For every Christmas in recent memory, TBS has broadcast Bob Clark’s Christmas classic, A Christmas Story. While other holiday films have become an annual tradition as well, A Christmas Story has the unique distinction of being run for 24 hours, starting at 8PM EST on Christmas Eve. I usually end up watching the entire film in bits and pieces throughout the holiday. And while I love seeing Ralphie and his family, I couldn’t help but wonder if my feelings would hold up upon actually watching the entire 24-hour marathon. So last Sunday, I decided to put myself to the test and watch the film for 24-straight hours.
Did my admiration for A Christmas Story grow even stronger, or did the compounding monotony of each subsequent viewing slowly strain my will to live? See for yourself by reading the detailed notes of my 24-hours of A Christmas Story social experiment.
Minute 5: The warm glow of nostalgia has washed over me. The film makes me think of my childhood, but the time-frame makes me think of what Christmas was probably like for my parents and grandparents.
1 Hour and 33 Minutes: What a great movie. No wonder people are able to watch it over and over again. Merry Christmas, indeed.
5 Hours and 23 Minutes: It’s “fragile,” you crotchety old imbecile! Say it right!
6 Hours and 37 Minutes: Gee, I wonder what Ralphie’s mom would look like topless?
6 Hours and 39 Minutes: Well, that answers that! Thank you, Google Image Search. Thank you, Mr. Skin. And thank you, Melinda Dillon, for those lovely “Banana Ups.”
7 Hours and 54 Minutes: God damn it, Ralphie! The decoded message is just going to be a god-damn advertisement. Don’t believe the hype!
9 Hours: Scut Farkus is such a piece of sh*t. What kind of name is that? I can’t stand that stupid hat. This movie should end with the Bumpuses’ dogs ripping him limb from limb.
9 Hours and 2 Minutes: Holy crap! Scut Farkus was in Transformers? And “Deadwood?” And a Uwe Boll movie?
11 Hours: I wonder if Asians hate the “Fa Ra Ra Ra Ra” scene? I bet they do, but they know better than to bitch about A Christmas Story. I wonder if Panda Express delivers?
13 Hours and 44 Minutes: Soap poisoning? That doesn’t even make sense! Screw you, you four-eyed little freak.
15 Hours and 7 Minutes: This is the worst god damn movie in the world. I hate it. I hate Christmas. What I wouldn’t give to watch Fiddler on the Roof right now.
16 Hours and 2 Minutes: The guy who directed this awful thing was killed by a drunk-driving illegal immigrant. Looks like I’m now in favor of amnesty and and against MADD!
18 Hours: Fun fact! Although it was filmed in Cleveland, A Christmas Story takes place in Hammond, Indiana, the boyhood home of author Jean Shepherd. However, the actual home where Shepherd grew up was demolished to make way for The Industrial Strip, Chicagoland’s ultimate adult entertainment venue.
20 Hours and 10 Minutes: God damn you, Randy. God damn you straight to hell, you little mother fudger.
21 Hours and 33 Minutes:I am the angel of death. The hour of purification is near.
22 Hours and 2 Minutes – Jesus Christ… Did my furnace just growl at me? Where’s my gun? MOM, DID YOU TOUCH MY GUN? Oh right, you died in 2004. Sorry.
23 Hours and 15 Minutes: I’m afraid. I’m afraid, Ralphie. Ralphie, my mind is going. I can feel it. I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it. I’m a… fraid.
23 Hours and 37 Minutes – Would you like more Slim Jims, Santa Claus? Fine, suit yourself. More for me. Idiot.
24 Hours: Santa, don’t turn that off! There’s only twenty minutes left! What’s with the straight jacket? Where are you taking me? Call off your elves, you fat son of a bitch! Mom, help! Help!