Some
days you wake up and it all seems like one giant comedy sketch. A replay of
previous shenanigans. A slightly different script but the same ol’ punch line.
It feels like there is a laugh-track following me around. The snickers and
cackles bellowing out as I read the news. Loud applause as I try to fall
asleep. It’s an endless ruckus.
The
Ready for Primetime players, a wacky cast of characters seems to be in charge
these days: making decisions, setting plans in motion no one wants. It’s the terrifying
merge of dark comedy and absurdity. Slapstick behavior, irrational speech, people
trying too hard to make the script work for them, anything for the laugh, acting
for the words- not the other way around.
Stage
directions keep the programming broadcasting, but the endless limerick of selfish
minds is barely bringing the audience to attention. Distraction,
disappointment, the sudden urge to dim the lights and empty the stage is
raging. Yet, the show must go on. Scripts are being written like an assembly
line of typewriters, click, click, clicking away into the void.
Every
now and then a famous face will appear, great music, familiar themes, and
actions. The audience refocuses, searching for the moment when something will
be funny. Something will make the cost of admission worth it. But, the same ol’
characters, the same ol’ story, the same ol’ props and lighting. What is the
purpose of a comedy sketch show if it isn’t funny?
Yet
our tickets, they were not voluntary seating- they were mandatory. We are stuck
on an instant replay setting and we must rewatch, relisten. Eyes trying so
desperately to avert to normalcy. But the laugh track keeps playing and the
lights keep rising, starting another sketch. We, always looking, hoping for a
change of scenery, a new stage, a new setting.
Then
we hear…. Live from ____________________ it’s _________________night. And the
cycle begins again.
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