88.3 - we're just a million little gods
[Felix]
There were only two, but I got 'em both. I think that still means you have to pay up, but I'm willing to negotiate.
[/Felix]
[ten o'clock. anyone with their journals open ... are you getting sick of hearing "Everybody Knows" by Leonard Cohen once a week, yet? Harry's going to give you a break, cutting it off after only about twenty seconds ... and then he'll start talking while this plays on loop, quietly, in the background]
It's ten PM, ding dong, the walking furnace is dead, and now's a good time to hope it didn't land on anything important. That's right, it's Hard Harry, coming at you with what's new around the Heap of Sheep this week.
First off, new meat! Seeley Booth, Merlin, Guido, and Willard Wright. Welcome to hell, you guys. ... [ahem] Well, if any of you ever had childhood dreams of cleaning up beer puke and throwing drunken idiots out of bars, the Death Match is hiring. [he flips a few pages, humming along with the tinny little midi idly] Oh! Here's a good one. Whoever keeps writing with letters instead of numbers? Kudos for being original, but it's also annoying as shit. We're people, not calculators. Take your algebra elsewhere. And hey, apparently somebody can't swear anymore - sorry, you poor fucking miserable bitch, I'll try to amp it up in your honor. To the walking ice cube who fell through the ice? Gold star. Annnnnd last but not least, another star for Doc Everything, because, really, it takes a special kind to blow up a microwave. The last girl I knew that did that made it an act of motherfucking rebellion. Hopefully you were doing that, and not just makin' lunch.
Also, there are a couple of people who left and came back. Jesus fucking Christ, am I sorry for you guys. All these people going "WELCOME BACK" and you've got no fucking clue! You couldn't pay me to be you, right now.
In other, broader, more interesting news that actually - surprise, surprise! - put a rise in our collective shorts ... we've got a mysterious informer who tells us that shit is going down. Some people are on Day 1500 and counting of this shit ... and you know what, if I were them and I still hadn't found a way home, I'd be pissed off enough to send out a giant metal vaccuum monster to kick our collective asses in gear, too. I hope the people that went out into the Dead Zone to test those ... weird crystal thingies found at least SOMETHING to go on, because really. If a bunch of monkeys on typewriters can come up with Shakespeare, a castle full of sheep can come up with an escape plan after 1500 days. Wouldn't you think? As for where your collective priorities about freaking out lie, I'm not even gonna get started, because this guy said it all.
[and thus, there was applause. mass, canned, sitcom-style applause from the stereo.]
I think I'm in a music mood, tonight, folks. Write in, filter, do whatever you wanna do - I'm here 'til midnight. Just filter to Hard Harry, you all know the drill...
[and he'll start things off with this, then go on to play the entirety of "Funeral" by Arcade Fire. about three tracks in ... he talks over the music]
You know, I'm surprisingly mellow, tonight. I know, I know, I still let loose with more than enough "f-bombs" to get under some of your skins, but ... it's a good night to be in Paradisa. Why? Because I'm seeing a little of what, so far, I've only been able to read about. A few of the people out there who aren't so far gone that they'll just let the bullshit of this place roll over them in one great big Stanley Steamroller. There are a hell of a lot of you who went out there and faced down that thing, today, and whether it meant you got turned into New Wave Jonah or not - you all get my vote for being Honorary Un-Sheep. You pulled together, stood up, and said "Fuck this shit, we're not taking it". And that just warms the cockles of my twisted little teenage heart.
Rock on.
[and the music plays on...]
There were only two, but I got 'em both. I think that still means you have to pay up, but I'm willing to negotiate.
[/Felix]
[ten o'clock. anyone with their journals open ... are you getting sick of hearing "Everybody Knows" by Leonard Cohen once a week, yet? Harry's going to give you a break, cutting it off after only about twenty seconds ... and then he'll start talking while this plays on loop, quietly, in the background]
It's ten PM, ding dong, the walking furnace is dead, and now's a good time to hope it didn't land on anything important. That's right, it's Hard Harry, coming at you with what's new around the Heap of Sheep this week.
First off, new meat! Seeley Booth, Merlin, Guido, and Willard Wright. Welcome to hell, you guys. ... [ahem] Well, if any of you ever had childhood dreams of cleaning up beer puke and throwing drunken idiots out of bars, the Death Match is hiring. [he flips a few pages, humming along with the tinny little midi idly] Oh! Here's a good one. Whoever keeps writing with letters instead of numbers? Kudos for being original, but it's also annoying as shit. We're people, not calculators. Take your algebra elsewhere. And hey, apparently somebody can't swear anymore - sorry, you poor fucking miserable bitch, I'll try to amp it up in your honor. To the walking ice cube who fell through the ice? Gold star. Annnnnd last but not least, another star for Doc Everything, because, really, it takes a special kind to blow up a microwave. The last girl I knew that did that made it an act of motherfucking rebellion. Hopefully you were doing that, and not just makin' lunch.
Also, there are a couple of people who left and came back. Jesus fucking Christ, am I sorry for you guys. All these people going "WELCOME BACK" and you've got no fucking clue! You couldn't pay me to be you, right now.
In other, broader, more interesting news that actually - surprise, surprise! - put a rise in our collective shorts ... we've got a mysterious informer who tells us that shit is going down. Some people are on Day 1500 and counting of this shit ... and you know what, if I were them and I still hadn't found a way home, I'd be pissed off enough to send out a giant metal vaccuum monster to kick our collective asses in gear, too. I hope the people that went out into the Dead Zone to test those ... weird crystal thingies found at least SOMETHING to go on, because really. If a bunch of monkeys on typewriters can come up with Shakespeare, a castle full of sheep can come up with an escape plan after 1500 days. Wouldn't you think? As for where your collective priorities about freaking out lie, I'm not even gonna get started, because this guy said it all.
[and thus, there was applause. mass, canned, sitcom-style applause from the stereo.]
I think I'm in a music mood, tonight, folks. Write in, filter, do whatever you wanna do - I'm here 'til midnight. Just filter to Hard Harry, you all know the drill...
[and he'll start things off with this, then go on to play the entirety of "Funeral" by Arcade Fire. about three tracks in ... he talks over the music]
You know, I'm surprisingly mellow, tonight. I know, I know, I still let loose with more than enough "f-bombs" to get under some of your skins, but ... it's a good night to be in Paradisa. Why? Because I'm seeing a little of what, so far, I've only been able to read about. A few of the people out there who aren't so far gone that they'll just let the bullshit of this place roll over them in one great big Stanley Steamroller. There are a hell of a lot of you who went out there and faced down that thing, today, and whether it meant you got turned into New Wave Jonah or not - you all get my vote for being Honorary Un-Sheep. You pulled together, stood up, and said "Fuck this shit, we're not taking it". And that just warms the cockles of my twisted little teenage heart.
Rock on.
[and the music plays on...]