Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Playwright Portrait, Eric Bogosian, Excerpt from Talk Radio


The Playwright Eric Bogosian 2008
copyright Peter Bellamy 2010

From Talk Radio

Barry: (Into in-studio mike): Kill it, Spike. (0n the air) I’m here. I’m here every night, I come up here every night. This is my job, this is what I do for a living. I come up here and I do the best I can. I give you the best I can. I can’t do better than this. I can’t. I’m only a human being up here. I’m not God. Ummm. A lot of you out there are not…I may not be the most popular guy in the world. That’s not the point. I really don’t care what you think of me. I mean who the hell are you anyways? (Beat)You—audience—you call me up and you try to tell me things about myself. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. You’ve never seen me. You don’t know what I look like, You know who I am. What I want. What I like, what I don’t like in this world. I’m just a voice. A voice crying in the wilderness. And you like a pack of baying wolves, descend on me, because you can’t stand facing what it is you are and what you’ve made. Yes the world is a terrible place. Yes cancer and garbage disposals will get you! Yes, war is coming. Yes the world is shot to hell and you’re all goners. Everything’s screwed up and you like it that way, don’t you? You’re fascinated by the gory details. You’re mesmerized by your own fear! You revel in the floods and car accidents and terrorist attacks and unstoppable diseases. You’re happiest when others are in pain. And that’s where I come in, isn’t it? I’m here to lead you though the dark forest of your own hatred and anger and humiliation. I’m providing a public service. You’re so scared. You’re like little children under the covers afraid of the bogeyman, but you can’t live with out him. Your fear, your own lives have become entertainment. (Beat) Monday night, millions of people are going to be listening to this show. AND YOU HAVE NOTHING TO SAY. NOTHING TO TALK ABOUT. Marvelous technology is at you disposal and instead of reaching up for new heights, we try to see how far down we can go. How deep in the muck we can immerse ourselves, What do we want to talk about? Baseball scores? Your pets? Orgasms? You’re pathetic. I despise each and every one of you. You’ve got nothing. Nothing, absolutely nothing. No brains. No power. No future. No hope. No God (Beat)The only thing you believe in is me, is me. What are you if you don’t’ have me?
Because I’m not afraid, see. I come up here every night. And I make my case. I make my point. I say what I believe in. I have to. I have no choice. You frighten me. So I come u p here and I try to tell you the truth. I tear into you. I abuse you, I Insult you. And you just keep calling. Why do you keep coming back? What’s wrong with you? I don’t want to hear anymore. Go away. Bunch of Yellow-bellied, spineless. Bigoted, quivering, drunken, isomniatic, paranoid, disgusting, perverted, voyeuristic, little obscene phone callers. That’s what you are. (beat) Well to hell with ya… I don’t need your fear and your stupidity. You don’t get it. It,s wasted on you. Pearls before swine! (Beat) If just one person out there had any idea what I’m talking about!… Fred you’re on.

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