Superstar speech for the masses
[Management approaches a makeshift stage built near a campfire, around which thousands of supporters rally in an atmosphere of excited anticipation. Most of them are socks and feet.]
Management: “Dear camp electorate!”
Voice from the masses: ”... and socks! ”
Management: “Dear camp electorate and socks ...” (stomping becomes audible) ”... as well as feet. ”
The masses are cheering and stomping.
Management: “This is a great day for our establishment. For more than two years, we have tirelessly worked, endured great hardships …”
Voice from the masses: “blisters!”
Management: ”... endured great hardships and blisters. Yet, we have never lost our campfire spirit, even in the darkest hours, and this was because you always stood behind, er, under us. ”
The masses are cheering and stomping.
Management: “Today, finally, our efforts have become rewarded. The Blogwart called elections. The call was heard, alas, was heeded, and we are now officially weblog superstars.”
Voices from the masses: “The socks are the people!” – “The socks kill the people!” – “Who is this blogwart to call elections?” – “Feet first!” – “Hey, I also got some warts!” – “Does that blogwart guy actually know that there are women socks as well?”
Tiny voice from the masses: “Hey, what’s the big deal, you got just about 25% of all votes! And only 188 bots voted!”
Stomping noise drowns out cries of pain.
Management: “Well, erm. Let us not be distracted by those who like to count meshes, shall we …. as you all know, this was not an easy election. Thousands of grandmothers arrived at our campfire, obviously meant to pressure us into stepping back from our candidacy and selling our votes to other candidates. We welcomed them with open arms …”
Voices from the masses: “Their feet stink!” – ”...and so do their socks!” – ”... hey, these ones don’t even wear socks!” – “whaddayamean: us socks don’t wear them grannies, pal!”
Management: ”... we welcomed them with open arms, and are confident that remaining social, er, olfactory issues will soon be resolved to general satisfaction. But the important thing is: we did not sell out!”
The masses are cheering, stomping, and clicking with knitting needles.
Management: “And the most important thing is: our superior quality was finally recognised. Our unique combination of stuffed minds and open hearts has always had difficulties being recognised, in this utterly cold and cruel and dumb world of ours.”
Voice from the masses: “Hey, what about stuffing our bowels and opening your checkbooks for a change? This is exploitation!”
Management: ”... Anyway, in reality, our competitors never stood a chance. The masses have no esteem for gin-tonic-addicts steeped in the false consciousness of the designing classes …
Voices from the masses: ”... hang them by their icecubes!”
Management: ”... for bourgeois subjects endlessly fine-tuning their sensitivities …”
Voices from the masses: ”... what’s wrong with that?” – “only socks are sensitive!”
Management (louder): ”... nor do the masses care about maritime vessels whose interest in the masses’ true concerns is hardly greater than an oil tanker’s care for birds … ”
Voices from the masses: “Sink them! Down with them! ” – “Yeah! Birds are there for grilling!”
Management: ”... or, for that matter, for gigolo gentry. ”
No voice from the masses.
Management: ”... no, the masses know what is best for them: us!”
The masses are rejoicing.
Management: “Now kindly enjoy oceans of alcoholic beverages, but please be careful around the campfire.”
The masses are consuming alcohol, each being in their own way (bathing for feet, swimming for socks, gulping for grandmothers).
cheering, cheering ;-)
oh you superstar ... can i have an autograph? not for me of course ...
Oh, I'd rather offer you a glass of wine than an autograph - perhaps more valuable ...cheers!
katatonik (Dec 22, 12:05 am) #
It is very rare for socks to giggle, let alone together with feet. You can be proud of your socks (and feet), Mr. Imladhrim, these are very rare beings. Hicks.
katatonik (Dec 23, 02:11 am) #