“The Wire” is considered the greatest show of all time, besides all those other shows that are also considered the greatest of all time. Despite many attempts to view and enjoy the allegedly groundbreaking show, like a TV-watching Sisyphus I have repeatedly failed to make it through even one episode. Here are the top four times I tried to watch “The Wire.”
When I Was in That Full Body Cast
Before you get too panicked, don’t worry! I was not injured, but instead had my entire body encased in hardened plaster as part of a kinky sex ritual (that, ironically, ended in a devastating injury). Everything was going great until my dom remembered he had mass that morning, so he left me immobile with my favorite show “Arliss” on the tube. Eventually “The Wire” came on, but at that point the heat from within the cast was so unbearable I passed out.
When I Decided to Try Crack
Like most young adults, there came a time in my life when I opted to give crack the old college try. Although I had never seen the show, I was aware that a number of different narcotics were featured on the program. And if I were to procure some “jelly beans” from a local pusher, the show might give me some clues on how to get started. But here’s the thing about crack: you don’t need to watch a TV show to smoke it. You can just ask a bunch of people, “One crack, please,” and eventually someone will sell it without ever quizzing you about whether Bubbles is a character or some kind of drug slang.
When My Mother Was Kidnapped
After years of my friends insisting that I see “The Wire,” and telling me about how I “just need to watch the first 20-30 episodes and then it gets amazing,” eventually they took matters into their own hands and kidnapped my mother. If I watched the show, she’d go free. And I totally was gonna do it. But then I couldn’t remember my HBO Go login and sort of forgot about the whole thing. This was particularly confusing, as they kept sending severed fingers in the mail and I had no idea what it was in relation to. They must have eventually gotten bored, because later my mom was returned with all ten digits intact. Never did figure out whose fingers they were.
When I Became the Baltimore Chief of Police
Not too long after my two-decade-long crack weekend, which I will henceforth refer to as “Crack Cocaineamania,” I was appointed the police chief of Baltimore County, Maryland. While typically police chiefs rise through the ranks and have some law enforcement experience, that year Baltimore chose their next top cop with a statewide hot dog eating contest. This would have been the perfect time to watch the show, as I knew absolutely nothing about Charm City’s illegal drug trade or even how to find Baltimore on a map. But, you know? I didn’t. Despite this, under my reign violent crime in the city decreased 45%, and I got access to all the crack my rapidly-beating heart desired.