Saturday, September 19, 2009

Daily Story 157: Talking Heads

The red-faced news anchor threw his hands into the air in frustration. "Next topic!" he shouts, and a graphic flashes onto the screen: HEALTH CARE "REFORM"
"Oh, this one is a doozy. You know, the President is systematically destroying everything that is great about this country! Piece by piece! Let's go to the clip, look at what this disgrace to our founding fathers is saying." A clip from the previous day's press conference took over the screen, and William turned off the television. Sometimes he couldn't watch himself.

His phone rang, echoing through the marble greatroom, and he reluctantly answered. His agent. "Will, buddy, I know you value your privacy so I'll make this quick. How would you like to write a book about our current President?" It was true that he liked his privacy. He had even done what others would have thought to be impossible and built his career around it - invisibly. Some people sell their souls, but William had sold his body and name.

"I like the new guy, actually. I was surprised to see myself being so hard on him." He could remember filming those tirades what seemed like a hundred years ago. "Still, it's good to hear some of those sound-bites getting air. With the last administration bankrolling us I never got to see most of that." It had been his idea, his brain child. Film the reactions, the rants, the opinions - get them all done at once and then fill in the blanks as needed. It seemed so obvious after the first time the network flip-flopped on an issue as soon as the political party behind it changed.

"Anyway... yeah, write the book. Same deal as always, make sure my face and name are nice and big on the cover." In actuality, William wasn't great at writing. He had attempted to write his memoirs, but in the end that got outsourced as well. He spent some of the proceeds on a programmer who set up a digital reader with his voice, and sold that to the network too - it had made phone interviews possible, and he had heard rumors of a radio show. "Send me an advance copy, I'll try to read this one."

Turning the television back on, he saw a slightly-younger him shaking his head with disgust. "Did you see that clip? What a travesty! I'm too mad to even talk about it. Next topic!" He smiled as he pictured the money flowing in forever off of these endlessly recycled scenes. The only people who noticed or cared didn't watch the network anyway - he could go on forever. His agent was still squawking in his ear. "Sounds good buddy, sounds good. By the way, you're doing another interview today around five, I'll let you know how it goes." William shrugged and dropped back onto the couch. "Don't bother. I'm sure I can take care of myself."