Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2006-07-19 11:47 pm
ptahrrific) wrote2006-07-19 11:47 pm
Entry tags:
Fake News: The Robert Report, part 3: The Wørd
Title: The Robert Report, part 3: The Wørd
Fandom: TCR
Genre: Comedy
Rating: G
Words: ~1,000
Warnings: Nope.
Disclaimer: The Colbert Report and its characters are the creation of Stephen Colbert, Eric Drysdale, and the other writers. Characters used without permission - but with love (and, more importantly from a legal standpoint, without profit).
Notes: Bobby gets to appear on the show in a scripted, planned, prepared appearance. For a little while, life is good.
Refers to this scripted appearance of Bobby's, followed by this Wørd. Table of Contents.
The Robert Report, part 3: The Wørd
The Colbert Report's overworked and underpaid stage manager is walking on air tonight. He's been in a daze of happiness all afternoon. He did manage to get everyone in the right places for rehearsal, but he can't really remember how.
You see, Bobby doesn't like unscripted things happening during the show. It still sets his teeth on edge, even though it happens all the time: Stephen is always stumbling across new bits of information midafternoon, and then it's Bobby's job to interrupt the show and correct him. Or, worse, Stephen will pull Bobby onstage himself. Either way, the nice script that worked so well in rehearsal will be thrown to the wind.
Bobby likes scripts. He likes neatness, order, details, sticking to schedules. That's why he's a manager.
Stephen doesn't care whether the script is followed, so long as everything continues to revolve around him. That's why he's a pundit.
Not that Bobby minds being included. On most shows the stage manager is just another line in the credits, as far as the audience is concerned. It's nice that, on this show, they get to see him once in a while. He just wishes he could have some advance notice before the cameras are turned on him.
Well, today it's finally happened. Bobby's in the script.
No wonder he's distracted.
The whole Report crew likes Bobby, so they make an extra effort to keep things running smoothly today. The lighting crew members write their cues large and clear, and talk to each other to make sure everyone has a copy. Everyone is on time for rehearsal, especially after the roadie known only as Killer announces that he'll personally track down anyone who shows up late. The interns (all of whom have been comforted, or covered for, by Bobby at some point) are in top form: they dust, they carry messages, they change light bulbs. Bobby completely forgets about Stephen's coffee, and the whole team of interns rises to the occasion; Christina fills the pot, Jess keeps an eye on it, Sean has the milk and sugar ready.
Later, Bobby will wish he'd been paying more attention; but right now he's standing in his scripted position, holding a telephone.
He gets there five minutes before the show starts, and normally these five minutes are used to get five thousand last-minute things done, but today he needs it all to get his grin under control.
The credits seem to take forever, but finally they finish, and Stephen takes a minute to drink in the applause (and a shout of "YEAH COLBERT!" from a particularly enthusiastic viewer). He then launches right into his top story: the largest charitable donation in history, made by multibillionaire Warren Buffett to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.
"Of course, it's not all rosy," he adds. "I was hoping Mr. Buffett would consider giving a few billion dollars to my charity, the Stephen and Melinda Gates Foundation . . . It is my life's work—which I started last Monday—to help alleviate . . . the conditions of . . . We're still working it out. So many conditions to alleviate."
(On the books, Bobby is vice-director of the Stephen and Melinda Gates Foundation. His job so far has consisted of designing the logo.)
At last Stephen comes to the point: "Anyway, call me. Operators are standing by. Or rather, operator are standing by. Bobby? Hit it."
He's shaved, his hair's brushed, and the spotlight has been angled to draw him out from the background. "Warren Buffett," he says brightly, "I am waiting for your call."
Exactly as scripted.
"Good man," says Stephen.
He spins, Camera Four zooms in, and then he turns back. "Anything yet?"
"Um . . ." Bobby looks at the phone, then looks back at Stephen and shakes his head. "No." He looks back at the phone. Was this thing even on?
"Okay, nation," says Stephen, addressing Camera Four again; and he goes on into the next segment of the script—the one that culminates in the unveiling of Stephen Colbert's Medal of Audacity. He moves on to Senator John Edwards' newly declared war on poverty—"which brings us to tonight's Wørd: Class Warfare."
Bobby hasn't moved. He's only vaguely aware that he's still holding the phone.
They pulled it off.
The "anything yet?" had not been in the script, but it's just the sort of thing Stephen would do, so it wasn't exactly unexpected. And it doesn't bother Bobby, because Stephen actually put most of their interaction in the script this time rather than calling on him out of the blue, and maybe that means Stephen's changing.
Maybe this is the start of Stephen who is truly sensitive to the needs of others. Maybe this foreshadows a kinder, gentler Stephen; a Stephen who notices people besides himself; a Stephen who—
"In fact, I pay my interns nothing," Stephen continues. "By the way, Sean, English major from Boston University! If you put whole milk in my coffee again, you're fired from your nonpaying job!"
Or maybe not.
Bobby comes down from the clouds, sets down the phone, and picks up the clipboard that somebody helpfully made sure was nearby. He starts taking notes, beginning with a list of who to thank for doing what today.
"And that's the Wørd," says Stephen. "We'll be right back."
The applause starts, the cameras roll back, and Bobby slips offstage. He only has a few minutes to find Sean and make sure the English major won't have a nervous breakdown or jump out a window.
Fortunately, now that he's no longer distracted by silly fantasies, a few minutes is all Bobby needs.
Fandom: TCR
Genre: Comedy
Rating: G
Words: ~1,000
Warnings: Nope.
Disclaimer: The Colbert Report and its characters are the creation of Stephen Colbert, Eric Drysdale, and the other writers. Characters used without permission - but with love (and, more importantly from a legal standpoint, without profit).
Notes: Bobby gets to appear on the show in a scripted, planned, prepared appearance. For a little while, life is good.
Refers to this scripted appearance of Bobby's, followed by this Wørd. Table of Contents.
The Robert Report, part 3: The Wørd
The Colbert Report's overworked and underpaid stage manager is walking on air tonight. He's been in a daze of happiness all afternoon. He did manage to get everyone in the right places for rehearsal, but he can't really remember how.
You see, Bobby doesn't like unscripted things happening during the show. It still sets his teeth on edge, even though it happens all the time: Stephen is always stumbling across new bits of information midafternoon, and then it's Bobby's job to interrupt the show and correct him. Or, worse, Stephen will pull Bobby onstage himself. Either way, the nice script that worked so well in rehearsal will be thrown to the wind.
Bobby likes scripts. He likes neatness, order, details, sticking to schedules. That's why he's a manager.
Stephen doesn't care whether the script is followed, so long as everything continues to revolve around him. That's why he's a pundit.
Not that Bobby minds being included. On most shows the stage manager is just another line in the credits, as far as the audience is concerned. It's nice that, on this show, they get to see him once in a while. He just wishes he could have some advance notice before the cameras are turned on him.
Well, today it's finally happened. Bobby's in the script.
No wonder he's distracted.
The whole Report crew likes Bobby, so they make an extra effort to keep things running smoothly today. The lighting crew members write their cues large and clear, and talk to each other to make sure everyone has a copy. Everyone is on time for rehearsal, especially after the roadie known only as Killer announces that he'll personally track down anyone who shows up late. The interns (all of whom have been comforted, or covered for, by Bobby at some point) are in top form: they dust, they carry messages, they change light bulbs. Bobby completely forgets about Stephen's coffee, and the whole team of interns rises to the occasion; Christina fills the pot, Jess keeps an eye on it, Sean has the milk and sugar ready.
Later, Bobby will wish he'd been paying more attention; but right now he's standing in his scripted position, holding a telephone.
He gets there five minutes before the show starts, and normally these five minutes are used to get five thousand last-minute things done, but today he needs it all to get his grin under control.
The credits seem to take forever, but finally they finish, and Stephen takes a minute to drink in the applause (and a shout of "YEAH COLBERT!" from a particularly enthusiastic viewer). He then launches right into his top story: the largest charitable donation in history, made by multibillionaire Warren Buffett to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.
"Of course, it's not all rosy," he adds. "I was hoping Mr. Buffett would consider giving a few billion dollars to my charity, the Stephen and Melinda Gates Foundation . . . It is my life's work—which I started last Monday—to help alleviate . . . the conditions of . . . We're still working it out. So many conditions to alleviate."
(On the books, Bobby is vice-director of the Stephen and Melinda Gates Foundation. His job so far has consisted of designing the logo.)
At last Stephen comes to the point: "Anyway, call me. Operators are standing by. Or rather, operator are standing by. Bobby? Hit it."
He's shaved, his hair's brushed, and the spotlight has been angled to draw him out from the background. "Warren Buffett," he says brightly, "I am waiting for your call."
Exactly as scripted.
"Good man," says Stephen.
He spins, Camera Four zooms in, and then he turns back. "Anything yet?"
"Um . . ." Bobby looks at the phone, then looks back at Stephen and shakes his head. "No." He looks back at the phone. Was this thing even on?
"Okay, nation," says Stephen, addressing Camera Four again; and he goes on into the next segment of the script—the one that culminates in the unveiling of Stephen Colbert's Medal of Audacity. He moves on to Senator John Edwards' newly declared war on poverty—"which brings us to tonight's Wørd: Class Warfare."
Bobby hasn't moved. He's only vaguely aware that he's still holding the phone.
They pulled it off.
The "anything yet?" had not been in the script, but it's just the sort of thing Stephen would do, so it wasn't exactly unexpected. And it doesn't bother Bobby, because Stephen actually put most of their interaction in the script this time rather than calling on him out of the blue, and maybe that means Stephen's changing.
Maybe this is the start of Stephen who is truly sensitive to the needs of others. Maybe this foreshadows a kinder, gentler Stephen; a Stephen who notices people besides himself; a Stephen who—
"In fact, I pay my interns nothing," Stephen continues. "By the way, Sean, English major from Boston University! If you put whole milk in my coffee again, you're fired from your nonpaying job!"
Or maybe not.
Bobby comes down from the clouds, sets down the phone, and picks up the clipboard that somebody helpfully made sure was nearby. He starts taking notes, beginning with a list of who to thank for doing what today.
"And that's the Wørd," says Stephen. "We'll be right back."
The applause starts, the cameras roll back, and Bobby slips offstage. He only has a few minutes to find Sean and make sure the English major won't have a nervous breakdown or jump out a window.
Fortunately, now that he's no longer distracted by silly fantasies, a few minutes is all Bobby needs.