Video; un: rtozier

[summertimeblues]

[The feed begins with a man in his late thirties, one hand welded to his forehead in consternation. Adjacent is a swanky looking turntable, and stacks of records can be seen on a table behind the sofa. The titles are indiscernible but it looks to be a ballpark of about fifty albums.

He stares into the camera, desolate.]

All right kids, I'll concede: my folks would have cracked my radio if they heard how much I let The Doors holler out of it. I know it's a pattern and every generation thinks the one after it is a tasteless pack of miscreants. And I've been keeping an open mind. I can't afford not to. Music was my job, and for the most part the stuff hitting the airwaves had been pretty solid. Whoever's been picking out tunes for me up above has been doing pretty damn swell so far, too. Soundgarden was great, Lauren Hill, the Alabama Shakes — there's a lot of good shit I've missed out on because my apocalypse hit so early.

[He takes a deep breath.]

But today, I need an explanation.

[He takes a record out of a sleeve. Sets it on the player and closes his eyes in bitter resignation as the thing gets rolling.

His jaw clenches tight as the music starts.

"Hiya Barbie!"
"Hi Ken!"
"Do you wanna go for a ride?"
"Sure Ken!"
"Jump in!"
"I'M A BARBIE GIRL! IN A BARBIE WO-O-ORLD! LIFE IN PLASTIC, IT'S FANTASTIC!!"

A comely but irate redheaded woman stomps into the background.]

If you don’t shut that off, there’s going to be cats clawing at our window to check out who’s dying!

[Richie rips the record off, vein pulsing in his forehead.]

Music is dying, Bev! It's over! We've lost the war!

[She scoffs, disappearing once more. Richie looks to the camera.

He snaps the record in two with a malicious crack and tosses the pieces behind him.]

I don't know who allowed this to happen, but you ought to be ashamed of yourselves.

[The video cuts out. Please deposit your apologies and condolences below.]

Comments

video; un: eproghuefgdzptrrw

[vorrutyer]

Hm.

[ Byerly scratches his chin, then declares - ]

Put it back on. I liked it.

[summertimeblues]

It must be the excess hair in your ears. Take a weed whacker to that bush and get back to me.

[vorrutyer]

Where I'm from, a hairy ear is the foremost mark of physical beauty, you know. Just as your style of dress has to be a fashion statement in yours.

[summertimeblues]

The more I hear about your home planet the more I'm sure you're just bears in people suits.

[vorrutyer]

Don't be ridiculous. Of course we're bears in people suits. I'm offended that you would think otherwise.

[summertimeblues]

Better bears than weasels I guess.

[vorrutyer]

Oh. Well. A few of us are that.

[ By smiles, like he's told some hilarious joke. ]

So how did you come by this music, dear fellow?

[summertimeblues]

Oh Jeepers, you've found me out. Just ten weasels stacked up in a man-suit, trying to make a living in the Nysan wilds.

[what a peerless wit, hardy har har]

How else? It's a gift from above.

[vorrutyer]

Don't be absurd. You haven't the character to make a proper weasel.

Funny gift, though, isn't it? Music you hate.

[summertimeblues]

Then what am I? Alpaca? Mongoose? Or is it Horny Toad?

Think I must have gotten someone torqued. This is appalling. Nothing else I've got comes close to sounding that shrill and banal.

[vorrutyer]

Heavens, yes. It sounds like - Well. It sounds like your voice when you've been startled, actually.

[summertimeblues]

I'd say it sounds more like your orgasm.

[vorrutyer]

[ A delighted grin. Dear heavens, did Richie just kind-of-sort-of-out himself? Color him shocked and pleased. ]

And which one am I, exactly? Burby or Ken?

[summertimeblues]

[Anything for the punchline.

He'll regret this probably

With a candy-coated smile.]

Definitely Burby.

[vorrutyer]

Ah hah. Based on what? My willingness go along for a ride?

[summertimeblues]

[That sounds like a trap...]

I was going more off the pitch, but if you're in it for the mileage both of them seemed amped for a joyride.

[vorrutyer]

And what about you? Are you more of a Burby or a Ken, dear Richie?

[summertimeblues]

Neither. I'm a Voodoo Child.

[vorrutyer]

What, not a voodoo adult? You sell yourself short.

[summertimeblues]

[Richie cuts him a grin.]

Are you sticking up for me now? That's so cute!

[He then slips away to nab a record from the stack on the table. It's deftly slotted into place and the needle dabs down to somewhere at the centre of the record.

A funky chord strums, then comes the electric blare. "Well I stand up next to a mountain and chop it down with the edge of my hand..." Richie lights a cigarette with a pleasant hum.]

If it's good enough for Jimi, it's good enough for me.

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly sighs heavily. ]

Can't you put Ken and Burby back on?

[ He doesn't actually prefer Aqua. But he does like being obnoxious. ]

[summertimeblues]

[If it weren't for J.J. he might be the actual worst.

In one of those phoney commercial voiceover tones:]

The KLAD request hour is now over. Up next: I play what I want until you hang up.

[vorrutyer]

[ A light groan - ]

Oh, heavens, not more pretentious nonsense. If you're going to give me poetry, give me a dirty limerick. None of this artistic nonsense. What about a mazurka?

[summertimeblues]

[In that same tone.]

Mazurka? We ain't got no stinking mazurkas!

[what the fuck is it]

[vorrutyer]

A polonaise?