14th Pesterlog // Auditions! [Video]
[Friday night prime time means another contestant for -- "Teenage Pop Idols!!" And boy does Frgynyak Gorrig is looking excited about this crop!]
Welcome back ladies and gentleman--live from the Epicdome--it's Teenage Pop Idols! We have an excellent crop of contestants for you!! From the refugee district, we have a newcomer to the program. She's only fourteen, but boy does she have some fire in her. Miss Rose Lalonde!
[The camera pans to Rose who is looking tepid as usual. Frgynyak comes up to her, with his microphone ready.] Pardon me, miss? But are you excited to be on the show?!!
[Rose's eyes look straight at the host then directly in the camera.] No.
That's great--!! Eh... what?
This performance is a mockery of performance arts and an absolute bedlam of ostentatious showmanship. With the exception of those of us that are actually working as part of our job, we aren't performers as we are circus show misfits parading whatever skills and abilities in a self-serving grab for fame, fortune and recognition. I find it disheartening that the people here are contented to waste what may be their last hours vying for a program-created position that has no real prestige outside of these televised sponsored programs and channel-syndicated performances. This is most especially true in light of the looming threat of station-wide catastrophe just outside our stations windows as we loom precariously close to the intergalactic spin cycle that is the black-hole. I also worry for the home audience, who are busying themselves watching this horse and pony show and not concerting their efforts into saving our collective asses.
...uh... huh... [Frgynyak visibly dabs sweat off what could only be guessed as his forehead, a low whisper of "Can we edit that out?" Returned with an equally swift and quiet, "No."] So, what are you going to do for us today?
I am going to play the violin.
Oh, well! Good luck!
Thank you.
[The camera pans out to the front of the stage where Rose comes out with her violin. Her lips curl a little as she begins to perform a mournful refrain... with the usual 9-digit number popping up on the bottom of the screen, reminding everybody to vote for her.]
Welcome back ladies and gentleman--live from the Epicdome--it's Teenage Pop Idols! We have an excellent crop of contestants for you!! From the refugee district, we have a newcomer to the program. She's only fourteen, but boy does she have some fire in her. Miss Rose Lalonde!
[The camera pans to Rose who is looking tepid as usual. Frgynyak comes up to her, with his microphone ready.] Pardon me, miss? But are you excited to be on the show?!!
[Rose's eyes look straight at the host then directly in the camera.] No.
That's great--!! Eh... what?
This performance is a mockery of performance arts and an absolute bedlam of ostentatious showmanship. With the exception of those of us that are actually working as part of our job, we aren't performers as we are circus show misfits parading whatever skills and abilities in a self-serving grab for fame, fortune and recognition. I find it disheartening that the people here are contented to waste what may be their last hours vying for a program-created position that has no real prestige outside of these televised sponsored programs and channel-syndicated performances. This is most especially true in light of the looming threat of station-wide catastrophe just outside our stations windows as we loom precariously close to the intergalactic spin cycle that is the black-hole. I also worry for the home audience, who are busying themselves watching this horse and pony show and not concerting their efforts into saving our collective asses.
...uh... huh... [Frgynyak visibly dabs sweat off what could only be guessed as his forehead, a low whisper of "Can we edit that out?" Returned with an equally swift and quiet, "No."] So, what are you going to do for us today?
I am going to play the violin.
Oh, well! Good luck!
Thank you.
[The camera pans out to the front of the stage where Rose comes out with her violin. Her lips curl a little as she begins to perform a mournful refrain... with the usual 9-digit number popping up on the bottom of the screen, reminding everybody to vote for her.]