97.9 - radio free paradisa

[hard_talker]

[Sarge]
Something I've got to say tonight is probably gonna piss you off. A lot. ... But trust me, I've got my reasons for it. F'you still wanna talk after I'm done, I'll be around.
[/Sarge]


[Monday night. Ten PM. Leonard Cohen at near-maximum frequencies. You all knew it was coming ... and if you're new, and didn't know? You've learned. Mark doesn't wait long at all before cutting the music and launching into his weekly rant]

Soooooooooooo, hey, hope you enjoyed all those white blank pages, all pristine and clean and new and unsullied by the stench of castle BULLSHIT, because it ain't gonna last long! And to beat the place to the punch, here's Hard Harry comin' atcha with your weekly dose of dissent and a sheep-shearin' shitload of reality checks!

So the proverbial dog ate our goddamn homework, SO WHAT? It's just this place clearing out the backlog of bowel rot that we've all been accumulating for however fuckin' long we've all been here! I don't have to open the book and see proof without end of how so many of you just GO ALONG with whatever happens. We're literally turning a new page, here! Let's make THIS the book full of revolution! Our new MANIFESTO! THOU SHALT NOT STICK THY HEADS IN THE SAND AND BE FUCKING OSTRICHES! This year, we're gonna really fight back - we're gonna find out what makes this place tick and stick it to it!

And hey, speaking of New Year's shit - last week's little rampaging ball of hormones derailed me from something: a toast. Everyone, could I have your attention please? Glasses up! Get your beverage of choice, close your mouths, an' open your ears.

[ahem]

A TOAST. Here's to Nancy, for keeping it real. Sure, I know a whole lot of you hate her fuckin' guts, but she didn't back down from how she felt or what she thought, and she actually acted on it and got the fuck outta here. I mean, she's got no indoor plumbing and no roof over her head and she's probably sleepin' in a cave somewhere like a goddamn terrorist, but that's not my point here. My point is: she was honest. She was fucking REAL. And for that? Yeah, cheers, you crazy bitch.

[he cracks his own can of soda and downs about half, then lets out a monstrous belch] Well, that was deep. On to the more superficial stuff, for those of you who only tune in for the weekly world report. Our newbies of the moment: Simba*, Jade*, Peeta*, Jorge*, Mistress* - wait, seriously, are you fucking kidding me? Mistress of WHAT?! ... Ha. Boy, someone's about to get their lemonade pissed in, big time. [he laughs]

In other news, the clinic's got a staff list up, so now you know who to go and whine to if you get a papercut. Heh heh.

BUT! Here's the big news, drumroll please -

[and instead of drumroll you get -- a very badass bit of dubstep. hell yes.]

Open your doors, kids. Each and every one of you has your belated Christmas present from yours truly sittin' outside: a radio. There's a little book that'll tell you how to use it, especially if you've been living centuries before wireless communication was even an IDEA ... but here's the kicker. It's not just for receivin' signals and music. Paradisa's got its VERY OWN radio tower, now, up on the roof ... well, it always had one, but I've boosted the signal, made it a little stronger, a little more FUN to play with. And anyone with one of these radios can start up their very own broadcast! Share your voice, share your opinions, get your thoughts out there, play some fuckin' tunes, do whatever you want with 'em. This is all about expressing yourself, showing the castle the REAL you. The more avenues we have for that sorta thing, the better, I say! So come on, let's make it happen! Let's start ourselves a residential revolution!

I'll be spinning some songs at you all night, tonight, but in the meantime, this is your ole pal Harry, remindin' you to eat your cereal with a fork, and read your journal in the dark.

[and with that, he'll kick this off and start dancing around his room like the spaztastic teenage white boy he is]

((OOC: YES, the radios and radio station are mod approved! "Broadcast" is now a post option in addition to written, dictated, and action!))

Comments

[themistress]

So I've been told. And who might you be?

[hard_talker]

Hard Harry. At'cher service every Monday night at 10 PM, barring dysfunction.

[themistress]

Hard Harry, and yet you feel impetus to remark about the names of others? Mmmn.

[hard_talker]

Hey, mine's true. [he's being a snarkass, but his tone's still good-natured] The hell are you actually mistress of?

[themistress]

You barely sound old enough to be out of nappies, let alone known as hard.

I'm Mistress of my entire kingdom.

[hard_talker]

Ha, trust me, I'm old enough. Tie my own shoes, open my own condoms, and everything.

[themistress]

How cute. You fancy yourself mature.

[hard_talker]

[THAT earns her a burst of laughter] In the words of the great Bugs Bunny, "she don't know me very well, do she?"

Lady, if there's one thing you need to know about me, it's that I might be gettin' older but I am NEVER, ever growing up.

[themistress]

Ah, so you wish to remain a child? What does a child know about revolution?

[hard_talker]

Enough to know not to go carryin' pictures of Chairman Mao.

[yeah, full out smartass here]

[themistress]

[Uuuuuuuuuuunfortunately, he's talking to someone from too far back to understand that smartassery.]

I have no idea what that means.

[hard_talker]

Then you ain't gonna make it with anyone, anyhow.

[themistress]

Clearly the childish habit of speaking solely in idiocy was the first place you decided "not to grow up".

[hard_talker]

[loudly and only slightly off-key]

BUT YA KNOW IT'S GONNA BE! AAAAAALLLRIIIII-IIIIGHT!
YA KNOW IT'S GONNA BE! AAAAAAAAAALLLLL-RIIIIIIIIII-IIIIGHT!
DON'CHA KNOW IT'S GONNA, BEEEE! AAAAALL-RIIII-IIIGHT....

[mimicking guitar riff now. yep.]

[themistress]

[Mistress just closes her journal. What a moron.]

[hard_talker]

[a minute later a copy of the White Album in vinyl slides under her door. if she opens the door, there's no one there. Ghost Delivery FTW.]

[themistress]

[SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT A RECORD IS, and she certainly doesn't have a record player.

So she smashes it. THANKS, BUDDY!]

[hard_talker]

[somewhere, the Fab Four are crying.

and seriously, there are much better ways to destroy a record, like throwing it out the window onto the ground. come on, lady, get with it]

[themistress]

[In her world, it's always best to smash things if you don't know what they do. Throwing something out the window can lead to the death of a bunch of people and/or beloved/hated creatures!]

[hard_talker]

[okay okay. we can chalk this one up to Newbie Faux Pas and move on to bigger, better trolling in the future, yes?]

[themistress]

[I suppose we'll have to!]

[hard_talker]

[huzzah!]