Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2006-07-20 12:09 am
ptahrrific) wrote2006-07-20 12:09 am
Entry tags:
Fake News: The Robert Report, part 4
Title: The Robert Report, part 4: The Second Act
Fandom: TCR
Genre: Comedy
Rating: G
Words: ~1,900 (they're getting longer!)
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: I planned the details of this part between rapids. (Was whitewater rafting at the time; it's another long story).
Amora the chica's name comes from the old Spanish root that corresponds to the old French root of "Amy". The other chica is named Paolo.
Refers to Esteban's first appearance. When Colberto Reporto Gigante is referenced for the second time, it's described as something like "our Spanish-language sister program", so I wanted to reconcile that with the first time it appeared. Table of Contents.
The Robert Report, part 4: The Second Act
Jimmy, the director, has asked Bobby to help him run a last-minute check on the video connections. The rest of the crew is scattered around the studio, and Bobby's the only one on the main set at the moment. He's needed in a dozen other places, of course; but he's always ready to help Jimmy out.
Jimmy runs the control room, deciding which camera feeds go out to the public. If he's distracted, the screen turns into test patterns and stock bear footage; so he's usually safe from Stephen's irritation, and left to do as he pleases. He even has the authority to pull Bobby aside for a few minutes.
"What do you need me to do, Jim?" asks the stage manager, looking into one of the cameras at random. (The control room has a big bank of televisions that shows them all; Jimmy will be able to look him in the eye on at least one of them.)
"Stand under camera four," a voice from the upstage left ceiling speaker tells him. Bobby picks up his clipboard, tucks the pen behind his ear, and moves. "Good. Now, we're hooking up the Mexican feed; just relax for a minute."
"Do you actually need me?" asks Bobby, a little suspiciously.
Jimmy sighs. "We could've used an intern, if that's what you mean. But you looked like you could use a break."
"Thanks, but, ah, I really should get back . . ."
"Oh no you don't," replies the director with a sense of finality. "Besides, Colberto Reporto Gigante doesn't have interns. You'll be talking with Roberto."
Colberto Reporto Gigante is the Report's new sister program in Mexico, founded by Stephen to prove to Stephen that no, Stephen is not being unrealistic, Stephen's job is not safe from low-paid Mexican replacement, and Stephen is a fool to feel secure in it.
This is the kind of convoluted logic that usually goes on in preparation for a round of Formidable Opponent. Stephen loves to have rousing debates, but he doesn't respect anyone's opinion but his own. The result: a feature in which Stephen vigorously debates with himself, preceded by a lot of complex work by Stephen to arrange undeniable proof that Stephen is wrong.
It's a pity his boss doesn't believe in psychoanalysis, Bobby sometimes thinks, because one of Freud's descendants could start a whole new school of theory based on him. Formidable Opponent all by itself is worth at least a textbook.
Tonight's debate is immigration; at the critical point—when Stephen points out that his job, as a television pundit, is safe—Stephen will counter by having the feed switched to el Reporto. The host: Esteban Colberto, a veritable doppelgänger of Stephen (except for the moustache and garish pink suit). The unseen stage manager: Roberto.
Bobby has wanted to talk to Roberto ever since the Reporto was greenlighted. He wonders how Jimmy knew.
"Roberto, are you there?" asks Jimmy's voice, and a man with a thick stereotypical Mexican accent replies, "Hola, Jim. Your stage manager, he is there, si?"
"Yes, he is. Say hi, Bob."
"Hello."
"Hola, Bob."
"You two, have a conversation," Jimmy directs. "I have some tests to run. We'll watch the video up here; you two, listen to the speakers. If the sound cuts off at any point, tell me. Got it?"
"Yes."
"Si."
"Good. Get to it."
Jimmy switches off his own feed—it's just Roberto on all speakers now—and there's a moment of awkward silence. Then Bobby begins, "So . . . how are you?"
"I am well," says Roberto's voice in surround sound. "You are well also, I hope?"
"Sure. Can't complain." Bobby shrugs. "Are you new at this job?"
"We are all new at this job. Today is, how you say, number one episode for el Reporto."
"Oh." Pause. "First. The pilot episode, we say."
"Si. Your show, it is also new?"
"Sort of. Stephen likes to act as if it's older," Bobby adds.
He tries to think of another topic, then gives up. Even when he's nowhere around, Stephen will dominate the conversation.
"Is Esteban anything like Stephen?"
"Perhaps. How is Señor Stephen like?"
"Well . . . he supports the President. And he likes to talk. And . . . he's afraid of bears . . . ."
"Si! Señor Esteban, he also fears the bears. And he likes very much to talk. Only," and Roberto says this with a touch of guilt at revealing it, "he likes to talk only about his own self."
"Yeah, that sounds like Stephen," says Bobby, nodding. (Roberto can't see it, of course, but Bobby nods and shrugs and points by reflex, even when he's alone.) "Talks about himself . . . expects everyone else to talk about him . . . doesn't listen to much else . . . ."
"It would be harsh to say that about Esteban," Roberto puts in. "But," he adds tentatively, "perhaps accurate."
"You can tell already?" asks Bobby, somewhat startled. "I mean, er, it's only the pilot episode . . ."
"Si. Esteban is so very much himself, it is easy to say how he is like, after only the planing for el Reporto. Your Stephen, he is not like this?"
Bobby considers this. "Actually, you're right . . . Stephen, Stephen's like that."
Now that he thinks back, Bobby can remember those first few weeks clearly: Stephen looking him over at the job interview, Stephen giving detailed orders about how every element on the set was to point to him, Stephen checking each spotlight to make sure it flattered his features. "Yeah, even back then, I could see how he was."
"Very much himself."
"Egocentric."
"Strong in his thoughts."
"Stubborn."
"Loving of his country."
"Jingoistic . . ."
"A bit difficult, perhaps?" suggests Roberto.
Insufferable, thinks Bobby, then checks himself. (He's suffered it so far, hasn't he?) "A bit difficult, yeah." (But sufferable.)
"Your Stephen, he sounds very much like my Esteban," concludes the Mexican stage manager. "Only, he is in English, and without las chicas."
"I guess he is."
"And still, you continue to do your work."
It occurs to Bobby that Roberto might be just as nervous as he, Bobby, was early on. "Yeah. It's, it's not all bad," he reassures his counterpart. "It can be exciting. And, well, I can't quit, because I signed a contract, but I don't want to."
"Then there is hope for me," says Roberto, and Bobby would swear he can hear the man smiling. "I also have signed a contract. I could see how Señor Esteban was like; I did not have to sign it. But I did, and do you know why?"
His voice has a conspiratorial edge, and all of a sudden Bobby wonders if there's something more going on here, and whether it, like so much of the Reporto, is similar to his own situation.
Was Roberto just morbidly curious? Had he wanted the rush, because the most exciting thing in his life before this had been watching a tense game of soccer? Did he have the sneaking suspicion that, under all the bluster and bombast and bravado, his boss might, just might, have something deeper—something that he wants to see through?
"Because," replies Roberto, in a low voice, "Amora—she is the chica on the right—she has been, how do you say, giving me the eye."
"Oh," says Bobby.
His automatic "compliment" routine kicks in, and he adds, "Well, good luck with that."
Jimmy chooses this point to step in: "Okay, I'm done. Thanks, you two. You did great."
"Sure, no problem."
"De nada, Señor Jim."
The sound cuts out, and Bobby finds that his curiosity is completely satisfied.
Fandom: TCR
Genre: Comedy
Rating: G
Words: ~1,900 (they're getting longer!)
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: I planned the details of this part between rapids. (Was whitewater rafting at the time; it's another long story).
Amora the chica's name comes from the old Spanish root that corresponds to the old French root of "Amy". The other chica is named Paolo.
Refers to Esteban's first appearance. When Colberto Reporto Gigante is referenced for the second time, it's described as something like "our Spanish-language sister program", so I wanted to reconcile that with the first time it appeared. Table of Contents.
The Robert Report, part 4: The Second Act
Jimmy, the director, has asked Bobby to help him run a last-minute check on the video connections. The rest of the crew is scattered around the studio, and Bobby's the only one on the main set at the moment. He's needed in a dozen other places, of course; but he's always ready to help Jimmy out.
Jimmy runs the control room, deciding which camera feeds go out to the public. If he's distracted, the screen turns into test patterns and stock bear footage; so he's usually safe from Stephen's irritation, and left to do as he pleases. He even has the authority to pull Bobby aside for a few minutes.
"What do you need me to do, Jim?" asks the stage manager, looking into one of the cameras at random. (The control room has a big bank of televisions that shows them all; Jimmy will be able to look him in the eye on at least one of them.)
"Stand under camera four," a voice from the upstage left ceiling speaker tells him. Bobby picks up his clipboard, tucks the pen behind his ear, and moves. "Good. Now, we're hooking up the Mexican feed; just relax for a minute."
"Do you actually need me?" asks Bobby, a little suspiciously.
Jimmy sighs. "We could've used an intern, if that's what you mean. But you looked like you could use a break."
"Thanks, but, ah, I really should get back . . ."
"Oh no you don't," replies the director with a sense of finality. "Besides, Colberto Reporto Gigante doesn't have interns. You'll be talking with Roberto."
Colberto Reporto Gigante is the Report's new sister program in Mexico, founded by Stephen to prove to Stephen that no, Stephen is not being unrealistic, Stephen's job is not safe from low-paid Mexican replacement, and Stephen is a fool to feel secure in it.
This is the kind of convoluted logic that usually goes on in preparation for a round of Formidable Opponent. Stephen loves to have rousing debates, but he doesn't respect anyone's opinion but his own. The result: a feature in which Stephen vigorously debates with himself, preceded by a lot of complex work by Stephen to arrange undeniable proof that Stephen is wrong.
It's a pity his boss doesn't believe in psychoanalysis, Bobby sometimes thinks, because one of Freud's descendants could start a whole new school of theory based on him. Formidable Opponent all by itself is worth at least a textbook.
Tonight's debate is immigration; at the critical point—when Stephen points out that his job, as a television pundit, is safe—Stephen will counter by having the feed switched to el Reporto. The host: Esteban Colberto, a veritable doppelgänger of Stephen (except for the moustache and garish pink suit). The unseen stage manager: Roberto.
Bobby has wanted to talk to Roberto ever since the Reporto was greenlighted. He wonders how Jimmy knew.
"Roberto, are you there?" asks Jimmy's voice, and a man with a thick stereotypical Mexican accent replies, "Hola, Jim. Your stage manager, he is there, si?"
"Yes, he is. Say hi, Bob."
"Hello."
"Hola, Bob."
"You two, have a conversation," Jimmy directs. "I have some tests to run. We'll watch the video up here; you two, listen to the speakers. If the sound cuts off at any point, tell me. Got it?"
"Yes."
"Si."
"Good. Get to it."
Jimmy switches off his own feed—it's just Roberto on all speakers now—and there's a moment of awkward silence. Then Bobby begins, "So . . . how are you?"
"I am well," says Roberto's voice in surround sound. "You are well also, I hope?"
"Sure. Can't complain." Bobby shrugs. "Are you new at this job?"
"We are all new at this job. Today is, how you say, number one episode for el Reporto."
"Oh." Pause. "First. The pilot episode, we say."
"Si. Your show, it is also new?"
"Sort of. Stephen likes to act as if it's older," Bobby adds.
He tries to think of another topic, then gives up. Even when he's nowhere around, Stephen will dominate the conversation.
"Is Esteban anything like Stephen?"
"Perhaps. How is Señor Stephen like?"
"Well . . . he supports the President. And he likes to talk. And . . . he's afraid of bears . . . ."
"Si! Señor Esteban, he also fears the bears. And he likes very much to talk. Only," and Roberto says this with a touch of guilt at revealing it, "he likes to talk only about his own self."
"Yeah, that sounds like Stephen," says Bobby, nodding. (Roberto can't see it, of course, but Bobby nods and shrugs and points by reflex, even when he's alone.) "Talks about himself . . . expects everyone else to talk about him . . . doesn't listen to much else . . . ."
"It would be harsh to say that about Esteban," Roberto puts in. "But," he adds tentatively, "perhaps accurate."
"You can tell already?" asks Bobby, somewhat startled. "I mean, er, it's only the pilot episode . . ."
"Si. Esteban is so very much himself, it is easy to say how he is like, after only the planing for el Reporto. Your Stephen, he is not like this?"
Bobby considers this. "Actually, you're right . . . Stephen, Stephen's like that."
Now that he thinks back, Bobby can remember those first few weeks clearly: Stephen looking him over at the job interview, Stephen giving detailed orders about how every element on the set was to point to him, Stephen checking each spotlight to make sure it flattered his features. "Yeah, even back then, I could see how he was."
"Very much himself."
"Egocentric."
"Strong in his thoughts."
"Stubborn."
"Loving of his country."
"Jingoistic . . ."
"A bit difficult, perhaps?" suggests Roberto.
Insufferable, thinks Bobby, then checks himself. (He's suffered it so far, hasn't he?) "A bit difficult, yeah." (But sufferable.)
"Your Stephen, he sounds very much like my Esteban," concludes the Mexican stage manager. "Only, he is in English, and without las chicas."
"I guess he is."
"And still, you continue to do your work."
It occurs to Bobby that Roberto might be just as nervous as he, Bobby, was early on. "Yeah. It's, it's not all bad," he reassures his counterpart. "It can be exciting. And, well, I can't quit, because I signed a contract, but I don't want to."
"Then there is hope for me," says Roberto, and Bobby would swear he can hear the man smiling. "I also have signed a contract. I could see how Señor Esteban was like; I did not have to sign it. But I did, and do you know why?"
His voice has a conspiratorial edge, and all of a sudden Bobby wonders if there's something more going on here, and whether it, like so much of the Reporto, is similar to his own situation.
Was Roberto just morbidly curious? Had he wanted the rush, because the most exciting thing in his life before this had been watching a tense game of soccer? Did he have the sneaking suspicion that, under all the bluster and bombast and bravado, his boss might, just might, have something deeper—something that he wants to see through?
"Because," replies Roberto, in a low voice, "Amora—she is the chica on the right—she has been, how do you say, giving me the eye."
"Oh," says Bobby.
His automatic "compliment" routine kicks in, and he adds, "Well, good luck with that."
Jimmy chooses this point to step in: "Okay, I'm done. Thanks, you two. You did great."
"Sure, no problem."
"De nada, Señor Jim."
The sound cuts out, and Bobby finds that his curiosity is completely satisfied.