ACT ONE: Two 9:30 forum denizens are discussing the impending news of Bloc Party tickets on sale:
Scenester: Man, I am totally stoked about the Bloc Party show!
Hipster: Word. And the best part is, right now, only we know about it!
Scenester: That's right. Only us. And that's the way it should be. I'm so sick of these people showing up at shows, who obviously only learned about it from some blog.
Hipster: Or the big advertisement the 9:30 club puts out in multiple newspapers each and every week.
Scenester: Yeah. What's that about? Who ever heard of a venue advertising?
Hipster: Or a publication of some sort actually printing information?
Scenester: Those guys are totally lame. The only people who buy tickets that way are totally lazy people. I hate those lazy people. They throw off our purity control methods. The 9:30 club, I'm sorry to say, is no place for lazy people who aren't prepared to painstakingly page through artist's websites or join the Forum.
Hipster: True dat. (imitating one of those people) But I have a job! Friends and family! Non-musical pursuits that demand my time!
Scenester: They're not real fans. Just lazy pretenders. God I hate those lazy lazy fucks.
Hipster: I hate lazy people, too. So, you gonna call tomorrow when tickets go on sale?
Scenester: What are you talking about?! We have ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD to do that! I'm going to roll around in my pajamas spreading orange marmalade on my coffee table for a few hours first.
Hipster: Yeah. I'm going to loll around, maybe yawn a few times, post about seven hundred times, and then maybe I'll call--that is, if I don't feel like joining you for that whole marmalade thing.
Scenester: Awesome. You're a true fan!
Hipster: So are you.
[Webster enters. He is actually Webster, from the TV show]
Webster: Guys! Terrible news! I just heard that DCist is going to post about the Bloc Party show!
Hipster: Heavens to hoopskirts! God, no! Why! Oh, Webster! You mirthless midget! Why must you always bring such woeful tidings up unto my grill? Now I am inexorably beweep!
Scenester: Get a hold of yourself, man! Webster, are you certain?
Webster: Golly, yes. I overheard them at Cafe Saint Ex talking about it. KG was rocking the Feist, too. Somehow, I was able to closely overhear them without being detected!
Hipster: Somehow? Good Lord, man. You're no taller than most cats!
Scenester: Silencio! They're at Cafe Saint Ex, eh? All right. I have a plan. [Blackout]
ACT TWO: The DCist crew is gathered at Cafe Saint Ex, having a staff meeting. Hipster and Scenester enter.
Scenester: I thought I'd find you here.
DCist Catherine: Oh, crap. It's you guys again. If you wait till tomorrow, I'll post something for you two to get your panties all abunched.
Hipster: There's not going to be a tomorrow!
Scenester: Can the melodrama, man. There's going to be a tomorrow, okay. God knows, you guys would probably run home and tell all of DC that tomorrow wasn't going to come, because of your crazy need to always be informing people of impending shit! What's that all about.
DCist Kyle: Um. It should be bovs, actually.
Scenester: Well, I'll tell you what you are not going to post about tomorrow. When it comes. As it certainly will! You aren't going to tell a soul about the Bloc Party show.
DCist Hemal: Uh. We so totally are.
Scenester: No you will not.
DCist Hemal: Yes. We totally are.
Scenester: You most certainly so totally are not! Not this time! And you want to know why?
Scenester: I said do you want to know--
DCist Becca: Christ, fine. Yes, we want to know why.
Scenester: He is the reason why! (He points to a shadowy figure, sweeping across the room toward the DCist table)
Deus Ex Machina: Um, hi. Are you the DCists? Yeah. Look, I'm the Deus Ex Machina. I don't know if you are familiar with my work, but basically it boils down to this. In a dramatic setting such as this, the Deus Ex Machina basically has ultimate willpower to dictate events. For the purposes of this dramatic piece, I have decided that you will not be posting anything about the Bloc Party show. And so, regardless of your own claims to self-will, this shall come to pass, because as far as the plot is concerned, I basically trump you.
DCist Hemal: You can't be serious.
DCist Rob: No. He's right. The Deus Ex Machina, or "god-machine" is a longstanding tradition in classic drama, often deployed by playwrights to resolve matters that are seemingly unresolvable. Since there can be no plausible reason in actuality why we wouldn't post, but the reality of this dramatic piece requires us to not post so that the third act can be realized, the Deus Ex Machina has been called upon to assert the playwright's will in this regard.
DCist Becca: Haven't you ever seen Law and Order? Whenever the two cops have exhausted their leads, S. Epatha Merkerson's phone rings, and who's on the other line with the critical info to get the story moving again?
DCist Rob: Deus Ex Machina.
Deus Ex Machina: Right, and for the record, it's not my fault that this playwright's vision hinges on this hack postmodern device.
DCist Kanishka: Wait. Hold on. This can't be right. Rob, you don't know what you are talking about.
[DCist Jason slaps DCist Kanishka hard across the face.]
DCist Kanishka: Dude! Why did you do that?
DCist Jason: Dude! Because Rob Goodspeed has never been wrong about anything! You know that! Don't tell me you don't!
DCist Kanishka: Oh, man. You're totally right. You're totally right! Rob, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
DCist Jason: It's okay, man. Hey. I love you dude! I didn't hit you out of meanness. I'm sorry.
DCist Kanishka: Let's never fight again, man.
[And they never did.]
DCist Kyle: Is it still okay for me to think this is bogus?
DCist Catherine: I swear. I am going to cockpunch this guy.
Deus Ex Machina: Now, now. Your cockpunch won't work on me.
DCist Jason: I'll let you cockpunch someone in the sequel. And I promise to give Scott, William, Martin, Zoe, Cyndi, Amadie and the rest of those cats some lines, too.
Scenester: Ha. In the meantime, no Bloc Party post!
DCist Catherine: Fine. Since this isn't really happening, I guess it's okay.
Deus Ex Machina. Great. I'l be on my way. And, by the way, it was me that stole the keg.
DCist Kyle: I KNEW IT!!
[Scenester, Hipster and the Deus Ex Machina exit]
[Two hours pass.]
DCist Mike: (entering) Wow. Sorry I'm late guys. Did I miss anything?
ACT THREE: The 9:30 Club the night of the Bloc Party Show. The venue is mostly empty, save for the twenty or so people who regularly post on the 9:30 forum.
Hipster: Dude! This is awesome.
Scenester: It's the dream realized. All those lazy people are nowhere to be found. Just the true fans.
Hipster: They whose blood flows not with the Hemoglobin of the Truly Deserving are rightly, and justly missing out on the Bloc Party show.
Scenester: It's all about purity control, my friend. It's a constant struggle to move the goalposts that determine who's in and who's not. It can be fun to be exclusionist, but I don't think any one of enjoys all the effort it takes.
Hipster: All I know is this: right now, the feeling of smugness that has come over me is so infinitely sublime that I believe I could lactate.
[From behind the stage, Bloc Party enters.]
Gordon Moakes, Bloc Party bassist: Bloody hell! Tong is right! There's no one here.
Matt Tong, Bloc Party drummer: I told you! The place is fucking empty. I thought DC was clamoring for us to return.
Kele Okereke, Bloc Party singer: I blame myself, guys. I must not have given my usual 125 percent at the Black Cat.
Russell Lissack, Bloc Party guitarist: Kele, you can't go around blaming yourself! Let's talk to those guys. Maybe they know if something is up.
[The band approaches Hipster and Scenester]
Matt: Excuse me, I was wondering if maybe you guys knew why there's only twenty people here tonight!
Hipster: It's awesome, isn't it! You guys are going to rock tonight!
Scenester: I bet it's a big relief for you guys, knowing that not a whole lot of people came tonight. I gotta think it's a luxury you guys don't enjoy that often.
Gordon: Actually, we sort of thought we'd draw a lot more. What happened? This place is desolate.
Scenester: Well, guys. This blog, DCist, were all set to actually post information about the ticket sales.
Hipster: Yeah, letting just about any old person in on the news.
Scenester: Well, we knew that tonight's show should be special for you guys, so we got the Deus Ex Machina to put the clampdown on DCist from getting the word out.
Russell: The Deus Ex Machina? Who's that?
Kele: The Deus Ex Machina, or "god-machine" is a longstanding tradition in classic drama, often deployed by playwrights to resolve matters that are seemingly--
Matt: Let's not go through all that again! I still don't get it! What about all the other avenues of finding out about the show?
Deus Ex Machina: (sweeping into the room) Perhaps I can explain! After shutting DCist down, I was still feeling rather spry.
Scenester: So he went around to the other blogs and newspapers and put them ALL on lockdown!
Deus Ex Machina: Yeah...I get a little drunk with the power now and again...
Hipster: It's all about getting you guys the opportunity to play the perfect show for the perfect fans!
Matt: Perfect fans, eh? Well, you lot didn't, by chance, each pay $250 for your tickets, did you?
Scenester: What? Hell no! It's all about cheap and easy, bro!
Russell: So we're playing for a few hundred bucks tonight? That doesn't even come close to covering our expenses! We don't live on a fucking commune, you know?
Kele: Right. That was Kasabian.
Matt: And even those guys are shilling for Pontiac now.
Gordon: Your actions have consequences that impact our intimate lives!
Scenester: Woah, woah, woah! What's with all this talk of consequences? What consequences? I know of no consequences! I just know that this is my perfect show! I know that if I was the center of universe, this is the way it would be!
Hipster: And we are the center of the universe.
Matt: So...this means we don't get paid tonight.
Russell: This can't be happening...
Gordon: Kele, I'm hungry.
Kele: Hey, Gordon. Hang in there. In few days we'll be playing the Trocadero.
Matt: Maybe they won't be such asshats in Philly.
Deus Ex Machina: Ha! Good luck with that!
Stay tuned for the exciting sequel, The Magnificent Seven Cockpunches! DCist Catherine, decked out Kill Bill stizz, settles the beef between Sam Endicott and Brandon Flowers the only way she can--by crushing their nuts until they cry, cry, CRY! like little bitches!
Thursday, April 14, 2005
ACT ONE: Two 9:30 forum denizens are discussing the impending news of Bloc Party tickets on sale: