#can't do any changes bc it's a guest account

[fiyaerrigan]

re: BuckTommy 8x06 and the Interviews

First point: I hesitate to say Oliver's response was biphobic

We don't know the man??? He could literally be bisexual (and guess what, it would be none of our damn business!) But within the context of "he has said he wanted change for his character and what he says in this recent interview directly contradicts that" I do have my gripes.

Second point: To me, the execution of this sucked.

Normally (as a resident Messy Bitch who likes seeing shit in her Complicated Fucked Up Life reflected in media) I live for drama and I live for narratives taking me wherever the wind takes them! but there was something so BLUNT and RAW about this that i cannot feel settled or satisfied with it (esp taking into account that, as noted before, this is a direct contradiction of what people IN the show have said they wanted for Buck) because it was SUCH a tonal shift from where they left off the previous episode.

I try to be gracious and remind myself that network TV has to deal with sudden changes that affect the way they go forward with planned storylines, but this was kinda ass, right down to the wire.

Assuming that it WASN'T a sudden change and that this *was* how they wanted everything to wrap up, I feel like it really could have been written with more consideration. It's one thing to pick up from where s7 left off and have their relationship in s8 be something along the lines of “we keep trying but it isnt working out” and then culminate in a breakup, but it's another entirely to break them up and...

Have Tommy's character interactions *still* be intertwined with Eddie (when it would have been more of a soft exit thing to treat Eddie's friendship in the same "implied presence" way they do with Hen and Chim rather than giving them scenes where Tommy and Eddie interact directly) as recently as the previous episode. Like at that point you've established an additional relationship for the guest character to have with the main cast, and given that relationship more recent screentime than any of his previous friendships, which THEN makes his departure have multiple fallouts to address

Have Buck be on the verge of a momentous confession when said breakup happens, because GOD that just hurts

From a writing perspective, you're leaving loose ends that are (imo) not going to really lead viewers to sit well with the story going forward?

On a personal level, even if (by some miracle) we still end up with Buck in a queer relationship despite the looming storm for LGBT media in the US, I'm probably not gonna be able to look at whatever relationship happens after this without feeling some sort of sting. I'm all for writers planning out stuff to happen in advance, but they could have spelled out the end for Buck and Tommy in SO MANY ways that would have been less bitter.

Like, fuck. Even if it WAS a sudden change, there are ways that this COULD have worked decently even *with* a single episode to wrap up the BT relationship.

You could have Put Tommy On A Bus for [insert serious reason that Buck can't argue with] here and that (at the very least) would soften the blow bc at least the loose ends are explained by "oh, *no one* who's close with this character is able to interact with them" and that would have hurt slightly less?

You could have killed Tommy off and that would have been INFINITELY better than this IMO because at least sudden death seems more realistic an ending (as far as the weewooverse is concerned) compared to "these two characters break up but somehow we're supposed to forget that he's also friends w his ex's bff and there are Ramifications (tm)."

Hell, I'm not big on Buddie but it could have brought Eddie and Buck closer via grief bonding, if that's what the writers wanted? idefk.

Overall, this Sucks.

I'm gonna try to stop looking at my weewoo tags for the time being and focus on stuff that brings me joy (like content from old fandoms where I Haven't Been Hurt Yet lol) and spend some time away from the show for a bit.

Honestly, for me, s8's main sticking points were the BT relationship and whatever the fuck those two had going on with Eddie. My personal sticking points for the entire series (found family vs. blood family juxtaposition, breaking the cycle, and group hijinks) don't seem to be the focus in s8 thus far so I'm not too keen on watching the show as intensely as I have been, going forward. Hit me up if they bring Chris back or if the 8x06 interviews are smoke and mirrors (though I don't think they are) but otherwise I'm gonna go back to weewoo-ing through dashboard osmosis.

I still have BT and weewoo plotbunnies in my drafts, and I don't see myself abandoning those completely! I think, after some time, I see myself coming back to that creative space, even if I'm not following canon super closely. Of course, my ass never finishes anything, so whether I finish and post those WIPS is another thing entirely.

Peace out, friends?

[nekofantasia]

Wonderful day at work today :D

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

ayyyy, not liking Plato doesn't say much about your skills at media literacy

Teens DO care about media though. They're already seeing it everywhere, incorporating it into their lives, getting into internet fights over it. That they don't find one specific author and his ideas or way of explaining stuff interesting is normal.

Can they explain WHY they don't like him though?

Can they outline changes they'd make to The Cave to make it more interesting for them to read?

Can they talk about HOW those changes would have a positive effect on their media experience- and why their classmate might suggest something completely different?

and if the answer to all that is no they can't because they honestly weren't listening to a single word of any of this

Well. Then it's time to try them on something other than Plato

(thank you for your service teaching. my mom was an over qualified aid for a million years, teaching the lower grades, and as much as she loved it she also had to do at least one long rant per day after coming home late from grading papers off the clock)

(im not trying to make you agree with me with this, legit i have no idea what you're dealing with, but this post keeps activating my trap card)

(i am Sorry)

The cave though. It's. Abstract? It's... not very....hmm... directly useful to someone who isn't already into philosophy as Plato liked telling it.

As someone who DOES like that stuff, and searched this out on their own later by accident, it's still not something I'd recommend to as any kind of starting point.

Kids aren't going online and watching Plato live blog about reality vs perception (tragically)

but maybe they've watched Avatar the Last Airbender. Or read Animorphs or Warrior Cats or... comic books! Anime! The Golden Girls! I'm 30 help I don't know what people are into these days!!!

Media literacy isn't people absorbing 'good' 'well-written' 'insightful' stuff- you can and should be able to see and use it EVERYWHERE

the question-

"what's a favorite movie / song / artist / book / comic of yours and how would you try convincing someone else to get into it too"

-is a good way to get someone INVESTED in talking about media critically

There are no stories so timeless they can always be used to teach people. (at least, not teach them and get the same results every time)

Shakespeare might be fantastic, but hating or 'not getting' his stuff isn't a sign you're stupid (you'll be missing out on some really fun one liners tho). It was written for a specific audience by a specific guy. Same with the Cave. It's normal for a lot people not to click with it.

What boils my goat is when people choose to watch something like... the animated Beauty and the Beast.

people get bent out of shape over no one in the town knowing about the Beast or the enchanted castle- they don't stop and go "oh wait, this is a fairytale, and there is magic going on here'" or "there is a forest full of killer wolves between the town and the castle, and the path through it is so unused the signposts are illegible"

They get riled up over the Beast being only 11 when he was cursed bc of the "it's been ten years" "on your 21st brithday which is NOW" thing... and skip past what the Beast looked like in the opening sequence, how he looks the same as in his ripped up portrait, and the same as when he de-transforms into a human again. Magic. Magic is happening here. Or someone who made the movie forgot to sync up the song lyrics of Be Our Guest with the opening narration- a thing that happens sometimes, when people make things

To be able to take into account what KIND of story is being told while examining it, and who made it, how and why, instead of treating a story like it's real life....

like reading something that says it's a romance novel, and being upset that the two leads fall in love unrealistically fast. That's just. Part of the story. Maybe I don't like, maybe it's not believable, but maybe that's a feature not a bug.

Maybe characters aren't being stupid for not doing something you know would be the better choice,

maybe they are characters in a story with limited information, specific goals, a time limit to think about all their options, and maybe the result of their actions matters more than why they do it sometimes, because what comes AFTER is the thing the story is actually focused on looking at

the whole idea of The Classics, be it in books, movies, music, art, whatever, is just.... it assumes everyone shares the same background and goals. That we'll all look at the same thing and agree on it. That we all take in information the same way

We don't. That's why we make so much amazing stuff

Media literacy is a toolkit, not an end point or a state of being. It's just us poking at stories and taking them apart like legos

which is why i love media so much. There's always some new way of looking at it that maybe you'd never even thought existed, there's a never ending number of ways to feel about it, or be impacted by it, or even to SEE it- two people can watch the same movie and end up with completely different ideas of what it was 'about' just by focusing on different parts of what they both saw

and we're all making new stories constantly- it's what our THOUGHTS are!

Plato.... might not be the best one to explain that, tho

(don't tell him i said that)

“we need to teach media literacy in schools” guys was i really the only person paying attention in english class bffr

[philtstone]

Sarah/Bucky, “hugging from behind”

part of this verse, and i apologize beforehand bc this got a bit longer than i intended but ive been thinking abt this concept for weeks. you can also find this on ao3!

Sarah makes her way downstairs later in the morning than usual but still sooner than most, her whole body humming with contentment. She can feel it in her breast and her cheeks and her shoulders and the bowl of her pelvis, warm and syrupy. The early-morning sounds of the house waking up echo muffled behind doors. Sam's loud footsteps sound across the landing, followed by AJ loudly asking a surely still-sleeping Cass where his Ninja Turtles t-shirt is. The start up of the running shower can be heard from Sarah's bedroom.

There are people in the space between the hallway and the kitchen when she gets down, so Sarah stops, wrapped in a house robe that is objectively too short, lilac, and frilly at the edges, and exerts the last little bit of effort needed to bring herself back to earth before adjusting her bonnet.

"Good morning, Miss Sarah," says Keith Richardson. He is doing a hovering sort of thing by the shoerack close to the front hall, dressed nicely in his brown khakis and brown plaid all set up against brown skin, and positioned such that he can't really see into the kitchen but Sarah can, when she passes him.

"Hey Keith," Sarah says, "Help you with somethin'?"

Sarah's used to this house being something of a watering hole. It's been that way since she and Sam were kids, and when Sarah and Cassius moved back to Delacroix after college, nothing really changed. There's always someone around to let people in through the door, anyway, so she's given up caring who sees her in her slippers.

Well -- maybe if it was a man other than Keith, she'd care. But Keith has always been harmless in that way some people are. Kids used to call him Keithy Smalls in high school because he refused to wear backpacks of the normal size. Sarah thinks he works in accounting now.

"No Ma'am, just waiting for your brother. Said he'd help with a business need of my cousin's, real good of him. Can you believe it? The real Captain America, straight from Delacroix."

Sam's been back in town for all of two days and is already being pulled in all sorts of directions. Sarah decides that he's grown, and she will bother him about it later in the evening. She says,

"That's great, Keith."

"Beautiful day out," Keith continues, radiating earnestness. "Don't you think?" It is; the house is filled with the eight-a.m. golden glow of late May sunshine, dappling on the scratched wood floor and filling Sarah with a different sort of energy than what she came downstairs with. "But I think you're looking more beautiful than the weather. Did you do somethin' new with your hair?"

"Uh," says Sarah, "thanks, Keith," and she slips fully into the kitchen.

Their other visitor is already at the table, sitting with that impeccable posture that Sarah thinks must just be a natural property of her spine and cradling a steaming cup of coffee. Good, Sarah thinks. She likes a guest who makes herself at home when invited to do so. Shows good character, even if Sarah doesn't really know anything else about the woman. This is not really a point of irritation, because somewhere along the way Sarah has ceded trust to more than one of the men in her life, but still --

Makes for an awkward edge to any potential small talk.

Sarah watches as the Captain of the Dora Milaje brings her cup of coffee to her lips and sips silently to the backdrop of Keith Richardson's oblivious tones.

"Y’all need help with anything in there?" he is asking, from the doorway. "I'm happy to lend a hand, maybe get to see the behind the scenes of one'a your famous breakfasts --"

"I'm all good in here, thank you Keith," Sarah says politely.

“Hello again,” Keith says, good-natured, to Ayo. “I was just tellin’ Sarah that the beautiful weather got nothin’ on her.” He grins at Sarah again, expectant. “Sam explained y’all had a second cousin visitin’ from overseas,” he adds.

“Third cousin once removed,” says Ayo, in an impeccable French accent.

Sarah resists the urge to dither; the afterglow of ten minutes ago has definitely started to fade -- her pre-coffee brain and some of the higher points of her thighs are still clinging to it, but losing steam with rapidity -- and she remembers that their Daddy always laughed when she dithered. Said it never got anything done.

“Thank you, Keith,” she says again. She sticks her head out of the kitchen and calls, "Sam! You gonna let poor Mr. Richardson wait all year?"

"Oh, just Keith --"

But Sarah disappears back into the kitchen before he can finish. In the following quiet, Ayo raises her eyebrows in the direction of the front hall and mutters something Sarah can't quite understand under her breath.

"What's that?" asks Sarah, pausing in getting her own coffee started, shuffling through the kitchen to get things going for the boys' packed lunches. Ayo looks intrigued at the direct address, then repeats in accented English, at a clear, but appropriately understated volume,

"I do not know what kind of man it is who cannot tell when a woman has just been well-loved."

Sarah feels herself flush all the way from the ends of her twists to her toes.

"Oh -- that's, well," she says, pulling her robe a little more closely around herself.

Ayo’s expression remains unimpressed, but now that Sarah’s looking there is an edge of amused approval hidden masterfully in the woman's angular features that she is almost certain will not actually be voiced aloud any time soon. "Sorry for all the informality," Sarah says, because she thinks it might be too mortifying for her, this early in the morning, to acknowledge that.

“Sukucela uxolo,” Ayo says immediately. “It is no bother.”

Unlike Sarah, Ayo is already dressed: crisp black turtleneck, leggings, and the kind of simple yet intricate makeup that Sarah has never gotten the hang of. At any rate, she looks immaculate. She also looks like a woman who is always entirely sure of her place in a room and has suddenly found herself unsure, and Sarah feels a small measure of her own uncertainty dissipate, into the easy light of the kitchen.

"This house, it's always got people moving through it," she explains kindly.

She’s sure Ayo must have known this before she arrived. Something about her cover being blown on a stateside mission involving a rogue Wardog – Sarah still has a bit of trouble wrapping her head around all the astonishing, intricate details that are Wakanda. Part of it feels like home (the buttered oil, slipped onto Sarah's bedroom vanity as a quiet, unannounced gift); part of it feels like a whole mystery (this woman, at her table). But she’s always happy to have another person in the house so long as they don’t get under anyone’s feet, and she can’t help but feel like Ayo’s never gotten under anyone’s feet once in her entire life.

Bucky would’ve told her – God, Bucky wouldn’t have suggested she lay low here if the risk of recognition was even slightly tangled with the chaotic, thrumming heart of the place.

He’d asked her, of course. After he and Sam had the idea but before they’d said anything to anyone else. He’d been real insistent that she think it through, too -- with that quiet intensity that made Sarah think about how there were still some things about his life entirely foreign to her, no matter how much they settled and grew and shared together. The keen viscerality of immediate physical danger, for example. The cold, mind-bendy stuff that involves another human person very immediately hurting to kill, for no other reason than they’re supposed to. Sarah’s seen shit, but she’s never seen that. She gets the feeling he’s real protective of this house, and its four walls, like he couldn’t bear any of that stuff get in and it’s his responsibility to keep it out.

Unclear, if that’s true. But it’s real to him, which makes it real to her, in a sense, also.

So Ayo – it had been a big deal, that he’d asked. A profound favour for a friend, the depth of which Sarah's still unsure is known by all parties.

She watches as Ayo absorbs her comment, then tilts her head in acknowledgement, then nods.

“An admirable quality,” she says finally.

Sarah’s coffee is getting cold. She shuffles across the kitchen to stick her mug in the microwave, listening as Sam finally runs downstairs with elephant feet to greet Keith loudly and reassure him that he’s got everything they need to get the truck started.

“Real good of you to do this, man,” they can hear Keith saying, as the two men make their way out the front door. “Hey, uh, hope you don’t take this a bad way –”

“You know I can’t take anything you say bad, Keith.”

“-- But you know if Sarah’d be interested in having dinner with me some night?”

Before the porch door swings shut, Sarah hears Sam’s loud, startled laugh, and the accompanying advice:

“Man, you are barkin’ up the wrong tree. Here, gimme the keys, I’ll drive.”

Sarah turns back to Ayo.

“Keith's harmless,” she adds, feeling compelled.

"So I can see," says Ayo.

It is terrible of her; Sarah lets out a whole snort, then begins laughing. It seems to carry them right through their silent appraisal of each other.

"Oh," she says. "Lord. The poor man.”

She sets about getting breakfast started in earnest, slipping her made sandwiches onto a plate that she trusts Bucky will bag sometime in the next fifteen minutes, then contemplating frying up an easy hash. Or maybe just grits …

Ayo watches her, a glint of curiosity in her eye. Something about her posture has softened in turn.

"You are a family of upright people," she observes, and Sarah blushes again.

"Oh -- thank you."

"I should not have been surprised. Amava andibonisile oku. And Captain Wilson is the type of man who earns the admiration he deserves."

Some deep-seated instinct in Sarah's core is triggered by the appreciation of her brother. "I'm glad you think so," she says, maybe more sincerely than she means, and Ayo seems amused by this.

"Ingcuka emhlophe speaks very highly of both of you as well," she says.

Sarah pauses, hand over wooden spoon in a bowl.

"You mean Bucky."

Ayo's expression does not flicker. "Yes," she says, followed by something muttered and clearly irreverent about American nicknames. “You are quite skilled at this,” she adds, more formally, while Sarah fights another unbecoming snort, and maybe a third blush.

“There is absolutely nothing in the world some good food can’t fix,” she says firmly, hoping that all the implied gets through. “And it does pay the bills.”

“It is more than that.”

“Well. I – I love doing it. I’ve always loved doing it.”

Ayo remains silent for another few moments while Sarah's capable movements scrape batter from the sides of the bowl.

"May I assist in any way, usisi ohlonitshwayo?"

"Oh, you're a guest --"

"Akunjalo," Ayo says, almost like she is displeased with the word. Then her expression tightens. "Apologies. I am here out of necessity. I was assured that my presence would not --"

"It's, it's not a problem. Um, here --" She hadn't really been lying to Keith, but then, Ayo has been sitting like a lamp post in the corner for probably all morning. The poor woman's likely going nuts at the lack of action. "Here," she repeats. "You can chop the onions. I always get Sam to do it 'cause it makes me half blind, so you're practically family now."

For a moment, Ayo blinks at the onions as though startled, then pulls them towards herself and begins chopping. She's sort of terrible at it. Sarah finds this tremendously funny but does not say anything.

"Captain Wilson can also cook?" Ayo asks carefully, in her throaty voice, after a moment of uneven onion-chopping.

"Oh, sure. Not as good as me though."

Sarah cracks some eggs into the pan.

"My wife is an excellent cook," Ayo says, as carefully as anything else she has said, into the sounds of the kitchen. It is a bit like an offering. "The art escapes me. But it brings life into a home."

"We need food to stay alive," Sarah says plainly.

"Yes," says Ayo. Her hands are wet from the onions. Sarah wonders what Ayo's wife cooks, and if it's anything similar to her own history of recipes, tucked into the corners of her kitchen and her family and her heart. Sarah thinks for the first time that Ayo must have used those hands to inflict injury more than once -- like her brother has, and like the man she loves. She knows Bucky has a complicated history with this woman, knows there is a degree of penitence that still underlies his tone when he speaks about her, like he's trying to make up for something. Sarah associates Ayo with the afternoon precluding one of the more painful moments in their lives, and the reserved, private parcels of personal history Bucky has offered her over the last two years. She doesn't much know exactly where Ayo stands. At first glance, she'd thought the Dora to be beautiful in an entirely intimidating way -- there is a curl to her mouth that makes it seem consistently on the verge of disdain, or at the very least ready to impress threat. She reevaluates this now. Ayo's expression remains intense, but radiating a subtle, warm approval that makes her immediately likeable.

Anyway -- Sarah gets the feeling that the mere act of her entering this old house speaks for itself.

The stairs thunder again, this time with teenaged boy footsteps. AJ and Cass get to squabbling about something in the foyer while Sarah accepts the chopped onions, shakes up the now-fragrant hash and sticks some old homemade biscuits into the toaster to heat up. She only startles slightly when a pair of hands close around the softer front parts of her waist, one warm, one cool, in shorthand for the backwards hug he always does when there are people around.

She stays focused on her stove while Bucky greets Ayo and starts bagging the boys' lunches.

"You got everything you need to drop them off?" she asks, comfortable with their routine. She scrapes some food into a plate for Ayo, then Bucky, then herself, while he reaches around her to pour his own cup of coffee. His hair is still damp from the shower and he's changed into a plain black t-shirt and jeans that Sarah appreciates as a steady hum somewhere in the back of her mind.

Bucky groans a bit around his first mouthful of food. "God, how d'you do this every time. See?" This is to Ayo. "'S best safe house in the world. Like a five star hotel."

"I am not openin’ up for business," Sarah informs him. His cheeks are a bit flushed, still -- from the shower? -- and she can't help but let her mouth twitch. "This was a favour to a friend."

Ayo's eyes are dancing.

"Not better than Aneka's," she apologizes.

“Mmm,” Bucky says knowingly – his mouth is still full, the man – “Aneka’s –”

"-- but quite impressive. I am not familiar with American food."

"Oh, this is my food," says Sarah. The corners of Ayo’s lips turn up in a rare, feline smile.

"Kuya kufuneka ndimxelele ukumkani ukuba intanda yomzalwana wethu iyoyikeka," she says, in a tone clearly meant for Bucky alone, and Sarah watches him freeze, the dark fingers of his left hand curled around his coffee mug. "They are grateful for your aid in this problem," Ayo adds quietly, a crease lining her forehead. Her hands remain flat against the kitchen table.

"It wasn't your fault, Ayo," Bucky says.

"Tcha. We shall not speak of it." She glances at Sarah, then back towards him. She says, "this afternoon?"

"I'll find him after I drop the boys off."

They're talking about something else entirely now. There was an edge to his voice, right there. Sarah catches Bucky's eye, and he holds it – steady, open, trusting. She knows as surely as she knows her recipes that he would never do anything to put her children in danger. She nods.

"My thanks," Ayo says.

"Nantoni na yomhlobo," he says quietly. For the first time, Sarah notices how uncoordinated the words are in his mouth; Ayo speaks the language with such effortless fluidity.

"You’re gonna be late,” Sarah warns, spooning another helping onto his plate. There’s a crash from the hallway.

“Mo-om, have you seen my gym shoes?”

“Laundry room!” Sarah and Bucky call back in unison.

“Ms. G’s at the front door!” continues AJ’s voice. “She’s askin’ ‘bout a calendar!”

Sarah, Bucky and Ayo listen as the gravelly tones of Ms. Gloria’s warm voice correct Sarah’s son through what must be the wide-open front door.

“Uh, sorry, colander!”

Like Sarah said; there’s always someone in this house. She moves to go greet their neighbor, but Bucky stops her with a fleeting vibranium hand against her hip.

“Are you …” He doesn’t seem to know what he really wants to say. Sarah wonders what it was that Ayo told him – whether it is clear to the world outside their home how much she loves him.

“We’re all good here, James,” Sarah says, voice low.

Ayo is respectfully examining the photographs on the refrigerator and feigning deafness, but Sarah doesn’t feel like this is all that private. She’s in the same home they’re in, after all – even if it’s just temporary. Sarah touches her palm to his cheek, just once.

“In fact,” she adds, “I am better than fine. Ten out of ten, sir. Keith Richardson thought I was glowin' more than the morning sunshine.”

Bucky’s expression flickers, confused, then sharpens with understanding, chest expanding, eyes dropping down to take in the shape of her frilled up robe in a sharp, tangible flick as his mouth lifts in a grin at once shameless and a bit shy.

“Hmm,” he says, somewhere in his chest; Sarah laughs.

“Take my babies to school,” she says, “and do – whatever you need to do. It’ll give me time to eat my breakfast, and then me and the Captain of the Royal Guard are gonna make sure Ms. Gloria gets her colander and calendar.”

Behind her, in the kitchen, Ayo is smiling again, a tiny, near-invisible thing. Sarah goes to the front to invite Ms. Gloria in, kisses the boys’ heads goodbye, then picks up her plate of breakfast, comfortable in her knowledge of how life is meant to be.

**

the translation of what Ayo tells Bucky is: "i will have to tell the king that our brother's beloved is formidable"

[it-begins-with-rain]

Today was the first day we were filming our business show in its new format.

Only zoom interviews, which helped because new formats (plus a substitute graphics guy) just tends to be a bit chaotic. So not dealing with in-person guests helps.

First interview goes a bit slow, the guys are too chummy and chatty, and we end up 30 min behind. Which sucks because I send out the emails with the links so I get the snippy emails from interviewees.

So we plow along and jump to the next and... ... ...

The zoom computer has no outgoing video (from us to them), so they can't see us.

Not ideal but I guess they don't have to see us, we can do it.

Then the earpiece for the host stops working. We rewire everything, redo the plugs, change the earpiece 3 times. No audio is going into the earpiece itself, but the clip that connects to the collar is vibrating so hard that if you set it down you can HEAR what is being said.

Which is not how we do the show bc the mic pics it up so we can't even pretend that's okay. All 3 earpieces do this. Out of nowhere.

I fix that with an old wireless system.

Then the incoming audio from the zoom call fails.

Then the outgoing audio from the zoom call fails.

The zoom computer has been entirely rewired 3 times at this point with all hardware swapped.

No audio, no usable video.

We are now 2 hours behind schedule.

I have been RUNNING nonstop back and forth trying to rewire systems to chase down fault points and check patches and figure out why everything went to fuck.

We can't do any interviews right now, and we are GROTESQUELY late.

I come up with a solution: Using my laptop, have the host do a zoom interview, recording it internally via zoom, and then offload the video into our system for it to be played back as a "I sat down with this person earlier this week and here is what he had to say" type deal.

30 minutes of explaining to the host "NO, JUST INTERVIEW THEM, WE WILL REWRITE THE SCRIPT LATER. YPU DONT NEED IT. LITERALLY JUST DO THE INTERVIEW. AGAIN NO, YOU WONT READ ANY INTRODUCTUONS, JUST DO THE INTERVIEW. NO YOU DONT NEED TO DAY ANYTHING JUST SHUT UP AND INTERVIEW THE MAN".

We get that done, and now the entire computer which controls the zoom calls has had a full meltdown and gone entirely offline, and yet in a way where zoom thinks it is still signed in and won't let me sign in to the station zoom account from my laptop to just swap the two out.

Eventually it is fixed and we regain control of video and audio we are now 3 hours behind and I am sitting on the floor of the audio room just completely disassociating.

Engineer calls down: he had to flush isopropyl alcohol through the electrical wires of the earpieces to get them to work. Fuck knows why or why they ALL needed it and out of NOWHERE.

Engineer calls down again: He figured out the system meltdown was either the cause or effect of two critical patches in the broadcast system control upstairs- an area no one van access but him- have melted down to the point where they are totally fried and visibly charred.

At this point we all take 10, because we just have promos left and everyone is fried.

I go out to the bathroom, and in a dark hall where they haven't restored power to the lights yet (they're remodeling our area- it is impossible for that to have caused any system errors, those lines are shielded in many ways), I notice something on the floor.

The droppings of what must be a truly huge rat. Right by my work area.

We don't know if there are rats in the station and that may have had something to do with the total catastrophic system failure, or if someone maybe tracked the droppings in from somewhere.

TL;DR:: Today was the absolute worst any show has ever gone.