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Epinions 2002 Award Ceremony (Part 3)Mar 07 '03 Write an essay on this topic.
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The Bottom Line Never undertake a task that takes two months to complete. Ever.
If you’re none the wiser as to what the hell is going on (where have you been?), it may be an idea to check out parts one and two of this ceremony before you entertain the idea of reading this: Backstage. Crispy is nursing his head, which has been hastily bandaged up. He is rocking back and forth, is a manner that borders on the deranged. “No more pain. Please, I can’t take anymore pain” he whispers to himself, repeatedly. “Don’t you know that’s the first sign of insanity?” comes a voice from the shadows. Crispy’s eyes dart to its source, identifying it as that of his mysterious colleague. “Insanity?” spits Crispy “I’m going bloody insane alright. This is meant to be an awards ceremony, yet there are beginning to be more casualties than at Hamburger Hill” “Easy tiger, I was only - ” “This is turning into a frigging farce, and so far I haven’t seen or heard anything from you to try and help out. Dare I ask what happened to this so-called ‘insurance’ you oh-so-confidently promised me, the one that was going to make sure I stayed out of trouble?” “The insurance? Well, I’m not sure if it covers personal damage, let me check” The figure unfolds a parchment of paper, scans it. “Wait a minute. Wait just one minute. You mean that this is insurance and not ‘insurance’. You mean this is literally insurance? Damage cover? Not some clever little plan you had up your sleeve?” “Not sure I follow, I – ” “Oh God. When you said ‘insurance’ I thought you meant a crack team of guerrilla’s that would keep people in check; a time machine that would enable me to rectify any bloody errors I made or… you know, something that would prevent anything like, say, a blotto monkey going on the rampage something I would have to worry about, not, not… proper insurance” “Why would you think that?” “You had a tone! You had an affliction in your voice that suggested that this was a nudge-nudge kind of ‘insurance’, the dodgy kind that made sure awards weren’t shoved into places the sun doesn’t even go. Oh God, this is just perfect.” The figure stands dumbfounded for a second, before rustling the insurance form “But Crisp, this whole building is insured, for a hell of a sum I hasten to add, under your name. This insurance covers stuff like broken seating, scratching to the stage, fire damage… all unconditionally. It was a bargain, I thought you’d be pleased” Crispy exhales a long grunt “Not as pleased that I managed to get that plectrum out of my windpipe. Look, just… it’s great, thanks but… just be more specific with your dealings in the future okay?” Although hidden by the darkness, it’s obvious that his colleague is hurt by Crispy’s indifference. Before anymore words can be exchanged, what remains of the in-house orchestra fires up, giving Crispy his cue, who stands silently and pushes his way through the curtain ahead, leaving the mysterious form dejectedly stood by himself. On stage, and Crispy attempts to cover his anger, and physical agony, and gets on with the show: “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Well, it’s the final part of the show, and what an emotional, and life endangering, night it’s turning out to be. Still, as far as travesty goes I think we’ve a long way to beating the 1999 Oscars. So before that nightmare turns into a reality, let’s press forward with the final awards, starting with the delayed verdict for: The "Andy Warhol" Award Most Long-Winded Reviewer The nominations are: Artbyjude ChrisJarmick d_fienberg Owling Wokelstein “Now don’t look offended, this award is actually meant as a compliment, sort of. Anybody can write a long and sprawling review, but only a writer of immense talent can write an entertaining long and sprawling review. And these five nominees do so in abundance, packing as much analysis, plot explanation, entertaining sidenotes, and good old fashioned wordplay into their work time after time after time. Anyone else out there notice the anti-feminist undertones in The Shining, or would you prefer a detailed analysis of, say, Gosford Park? Better yet, how about a 5,000 word piece on the best films from the 80’s, or a chapter-by-chapter breakdown of William Noble’s Conflict, Action and Suspense? All here, present correct. “And out of all these dissertation writers, the award goes to... A long silence again descends on the theatre, the only movement coming from stockholder who is stood on his seat, playing with a yo-yo, with much pride. Unmoved by his skills, misc_el stifles a mock yawn, which provokes stockholder to ‘walk the dog’, right into her cakehole. Choking, she falls back into the seat behind her, head first onto the lap of a sulking Weirdo_87, who appears to be naked. He shrugs misc_el off, murmuring. “Look, I’ve had to make do with annecal stealing my streaking bit. The last thing I need is you trying to steal my genital bits. I...” He stops mid-sentence, snapping his neck around on its axis, spies something moving in the shadows. “Holy shit, he found me” he shrieks, rising from his seat like a salmon swimming up a waterfall, and races for the exit, the only form of clothing on his person being a brand new pair of shiny Nikes. He bursts through the door and flings himself outside, evading a frustrated looking security guard who dives at him from the shadows, misses, chases through the door after him brandishing a straitjacket. A beat, as a roomful of eyebrows are raised into the air. SusanGranger nudges skbreese, smiling dirtily. “Now I’m not too sure about informative, but a part of that kid’s anatomy was definitely long-winded and entertaining.” Back onto the stage, on Crispy, who by this stage has cupped his head into his hands, muttering to himself: “Every time! Why do I keep inviting him to these events?” He straightens himself up, face redder than a slapped tomato, brandishes a false grin. “As I was saying, before I was literally rudely interrupted. The winning writer is... ...Wokelstein *Bloody hell, this boy can talk, with a typical review clocking in at 3,195 words. Explaining every single aspect of the film, not to mention his own personal emotions and viewing environment for a film (something he quite rightly asserts can have a genuine affect on your viewing experience) Wokelstein has proved himself to be a consistent, and laboriously pleasurable writer of film essays over the past three years * Wokelstein strides onto the stage, grasps his award in both hands, stands behind the mic, roots around the inside pocket of his tuxedo and pulls out a long, long piece of paper, on which he has written his acceptance speech. A small, anonymous section of the crowd cheerfully groan. He clears his throats, unfolds the paper. With a smile and a wink: “Thanks” With that he takes his leave back to his seat amongst of flutter of applause from his peers. Crispy claps along, takes his cue: "Dont'cha love irony? You know, up until I was 13, I thought irony was what bridges were”. He flashes a grin, but all he gets back are bemused and uninterested faces staring back. Macresarf1 rubs his temple, tears beginning to form in his eyes, the pain of the humour almost too much to bear. “No? Guess it’s funnier written down then. Anyway, time is against us here, so let's get straight into the next award, one which some of you may have a few initial questions about. That'll be: The “Orson Welles” Award for Best Newcomer, Period The nominations are: atchesonate d_fienberg mfunk75 panguitch zachborman “After the notorious amount of bitching that greeted the ”Most Underrated Newcomer”, an award designed to showcase the talents of those criminally ignored newer writers, here’s the chance for those who have received the recognition for another chance in the spotlight. Each of the five nominees enrolled onto our fair site during 2002 and made an immediate impression that defied their tender years, so much so that Woody Allen hit on a few of them. Each of the above have only been on the site since well into 2002 and yet have amassed numerous Advisor and Top Reviewer hats between them, and each acquired a Web Of Trust that reads like a who’s-who of Epinions. To say their impact has been breathtaking is an understatement perhaps akin to saying that J-Lo could do with buying a “Buns Of Steel” video or two. "And so, at long bleeding last, the definitive award for the Best Newcomer is...” Silence. mfunk75 stares intently at the stage, slightly easing the headlock he currently has clamped onto a passing waiter, who made the fatal error of running out of drinks. ..."atchesonate" *A hotly fought contest, but the facts speak for themselves: only been on the site since 0ctober 13th, yet a WOT of 70 people, a Top Reviewer hat and 68 reviews already written, atchesonate has been an absolute revelation. Plus, anyone who admits to “loving beer more than you can possibly imagine and am doing my best to not love it too much on a nightly basis” has got to be worthy of an award, even if he did give Signs a kicking and a half, though this is made up by the slaughtering he quite rightly gives the About A Boy soundtrack. Raised glasses then to this absolute gem of a reviewer, may he be around for many years to come* Dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, and sporting a sun-blotched tan atchesonate takes to the stage, clutches his award tentatively. “Well, as loathed as I am to come off my vacation to pick this award up – thanks for the timely scheduling, by the way – I’d just like to thanks all you, for your support over the past few months, thank you so much for reading, I’ll keep writing as long as you continue to do so. Now if you’ll forgive me, I’ve got a drink waiting for me back at the pool, see you again in a few days” He swaggers back to his seat, picks up a hastily packed suitcase and makes his way out of the building. Wordwalker stares after him, sees the open door and contemplates making a break for it. Tempting. Grabs a passing waiter. “Excuse me, but when will the buffet be open?” “As soon as the show is over, madam” She sighs, checks her watch, weighs up the pros and cons of staying and dejectedly slumps back in her seat. “Okay, fine but if you don’t have any crab sticks I’m out of here” “Well” Crispy continues “just two awards to go – hopefully without any further incident - so let’s not waste any more time, and my ever-dwindling supply of drink money, and move onto the penultimate accolade. The “Citizen Smith” Award for The Most Rebellious Reviewer The nominations are: imokliel Latte-Chick Lobstergirl mobiprof Sordid-1 “You know how it goes. They make the rules, we obey the rules. Sometimes. See, we all like to go out on a limb from time to time, cross the line, push the boat out and so forth. Let’s be honest, sometimes it’s fun to just do something what you’re not supposed to. But the above five writers, in their own way, have taken their rebellion against Epinions to another level altogether, be it through a flagrant breaching of the rules, like constant use of ‘abusive language’ (how naughty), controversial but hilarious stories and words of advice, much-documented indifference to the way the site is run (power to the people), or just general non-conformist opinion. This award isn’t saluting those who deliberately do their best to upset other members in search of notoriety, but those people who genuinely care more about free speech on the site and little for it’s somewhat draconian and patronising rules. They don’t hate the site; they love it, that’s why they do what they do. In general, these people talk about things that the powers-that-be really, really don’t want them to. Whatever gripe they have, they make no bones about letting us know about it, and all credit to them for doing so, because let’s be honest, some of the stuff that we’ve had to adhere to recently is verging on the ludicrous, and as long as there are people out their with a voice, I’m sure I’m not the only one who wants to hear it. “So the winner of Most Rebellious Reviewer is...” Crispy looks out onto the crowd, focusing. He coughs lightly. “The winner of this Most Rebellious Reviewer is...” Silence, as row upon row of intrigued faces stare back at him. He grimaces, lowers his cue card. “What, that’s it? I’m just going to be allowed to hand the award out? No interruptions? No psychotically intoxicated monkeys destroying the stage? No shrieking streakers? No one loudly passing wind? No waiters being assaulted? No awards being shoved up people’s arseholes? Not even a sarcastic comment? Nothing? I’m finally going to be allowed, for the first time tonight, to go the whole way through a category without having either my physical or mental safety being threatened? You mean at long last I’m going to be able to hand over one of these statue’s without even the slightest altercation? At all?” More silence as members of the audience exchange confused, oh-so-innocent looks amongst themselves. No one mutters a word. Crispy waits for a second, half-expecting his challenge to be met any second. Moves to open his mouth to continue, but catches himself as a chair way back in the auditorium squeaks ever so slightly. Glares back, fearing the worst. Nothing. “Okay. Good. That’s... that’s good. So here we go…” The chair squeaks again. He stops, raises his eyebrow “The winner of..." Another squeak. “The winner of The Most..." And again. “... winner of The Most Rebellious Reviewer…” Yet again. Crispy looks concerned, beginning to fear the worst. “... The winner of The Most Rebellious Reviewer is…” Again. “... is..." Once more. Sweat begins to pour of his brow “... is..." Again, slightly louder. This is too much, as Crispy panics, almost cracking. “The winner of The Most Rebellious Reviewer is...” Right on cue, the squeak echoes around the room, bouncing off the walls and around Crispy’s head like a demonic echo, his sanity all but snapped. “mobiprofpleasegetyourassuphereandcollectyourawardfortheloveofgodhimself” He practically collapses onto his altar, his breathing heavy and laboured. No one down below reacts, either through uncertainty, or plain old fear. Crispy rest his head for a matter of seconds that seem like many lifetimes. Raises his head, shakes it from side to side, slumped. Slowly straightens his body. Coughs, trying to keep his voice from wavering “(ahem) Mobiprof *“A true voice for the people, Mobiprof embodies everything this category symbolises: passion, dedication and enthusiasm for the site as a whole. She believes that Epinions is here for us, the writers, and not the other way round. How very, very true. So kudos and respect to not only Mobiprof, but all of those writers who strive to keep forever the site an enjoyable place to be”* Mobiprof makes her way down the aisle, passing 29th_Candidate who is swinging back and forth in his seat, wickedly grinning to himself. “Well, it’s not every day you received an award for being an anarchist. I’m not sure that any of what I’ve done has been a conscious decision to be rebellious, but I’m certainly grateful that there seem to be people out there who at least listen to what I say, so I guess I must be doing something right. Stay tuned for some more mutiny in the near future” Crispy leads the applause as he takes centre stage for the last time, the ultimate award accolade propped by itself, waiting to be joyously received by its much-deserving winner. The applause dies down, all attention on Crispy and, more importantly, the doors adjacent to his person wherein the free food lies. “Well, that’s just about it for now. Tonight has sure been a long night, hasn’t it? I dunno about you, but it feels as though this ceremony started sometime back in January. And while most of the events that have occurred tonight have resulted in serious psychological problems, I hope that you’ve all enjoyed it as much as I have. It goes without saying that without you lot, without your wisdom, your insight, your own individuality...” Crispy carries on his platitudes, as mattygroves sighs heavily, rolls her eyeballs towards badkittyM. “For crying out loud, my ass is overflowing with this guys saliva already. Can he not give the sphincter-puckering a miss and just get on with it?” Back to Crispy: “... who not only make Epinions what it is, but provide a fine upstanding community for consumers and writers alike. So tonight there may have been nine winners tonight, but not one of you, whether you’ve been nominated or not has been a loser. Hell, in my eyes, you’re all winners” A mild applause covers up a suppressed snigger from badkittyM, who mocks, none-too-discreetly “A new breed of superhero is born: Captain Cliche” “And so, with that off my chest” presses Crispy “The final award of the evening is upon us, and it’s surely the biggie, the one everyone has been waiting for. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to contest… “The Best Damn Writer On The Whole Damn Site” Instantly the crowd sits up in anticipation. Now they’re interested, now they’re gripped, as hundreds of ears prick up as one. “... but not before we present our very special Lifetime Achievement Award” A collective groan, as everyone slumps back into their seats. Eyes roll as people realise that the shoe isn’t about to drop quite yet. “The person we’re about to honour has been on the site as far back as the memory can recall, providing a plethora of reviews spread across a whole multitude of categories, each and every one of them a total joy to read. Inspirational, exciting and heart-warming, this writer captivates as much as he gratifies, and personifies everything that Epinions is all about. So, I sincerely ask, please raise your glasses and give a toast to Bryan_Carey” Rapturous applause as Bryan_Carey emerges from backstage, grinning from ear to ear like the cat that got the cream. The applause continues, as people get to their feet, the combination of the sudden movement of mass, and thunderous handclaps, causing the whole frame of the theatre to rock to its very foundations. A few uneasy glances are exchanged. Bryan composes himself “What can I say? They don’t give you this for being a software support consultant. Quite an honour, though does this award mean that I’m officially past it? Feels strange to be picking up a lifetime achievement for something I've only been involved in for three years, but I guess that goes with the territory if you're a member of Epinions. That, or a member of N'Sync. Thanks a million for not only this, but for bearing with me for the past three and a quarter years, I can only hope that you do the same for me for many more to come.” More deafening applause, accompanied with hollering and cheering as Bryan_Carey takes his leave. The ovation continues in unison, more prolific with every passing second. It could go on forever… but it stops as soon as it started, as Crispy takes centre stage, their appreciation not extended to this wannabe. “Nice to see two of the awards going to two self-confessed beer lovers, isn’t it? Not, of course, that tonight has found it hard to distinguish them from pretty much the rest of you. But, you know, if you lot are happy with black kidneys then don’t blame me. But I digress… now it’s time for what is definitely, definitely the last award of the evening. Definitely. So without anymore eulogising from myself, it’s now time to move onto the category of “The Best Damn Writer On The Whole Damn Site”. “Now I know what you’re thinking. Who am I to decide on such an award? So many reviewers on the site, and I’m expecting you to believe that I can ascertain which one, out of the thousands on offer, down to a nomination of five, and ultimately one single person? Well, guess what? I ain’t. That, my friends, I shall leave up to you. Hell, there are literally hundreds of writers on this site who have written things the like of which I have never seen before, it’s just unfortunate that I’ve never come across their work. And besides, I’ve done enough decision-making for a lifetime. So now I want you lot to tell me your own personal choices. Who would you say is the best reviewer here? Who brightens up your very existence like a beacon from God himself everytime you peruse their words of wisdom? Who, in a nutshell, is the best damn reviewer on the whole site? All I ask from whoever attends this ceremony that they leave me a comment after the show in order to answer this question” A pregnant pause grips the place, the sole movement coming from George_Chabot, who looks over both his shoulders, confused. “Is he talking to me?” he finally asks AliventiAsylum, who is too busy singing along to Billy Joel to reply. “And so” announces Crispy “after that ludicrous cop out comes the part of the show I’m sure most of you have been waiting all night for: the end. The doors to your left are now open, and the free buffet is open to everyone. I hope you had a wonderful night, thank you so much. I’m Simply_Crispy. Goodnight and…” He looks up. Sees that every seat in the theatre has been vacated without a sound, a chatter of noise, celebrations and loud consuming of food coming from the banquet hall to his right. “... goodbye”. He sighs, but allows himself a content smile. At least they showed up, and at least they’re finishing the night happy, he thinks, as he sits down on the short walkway of the stage steps. A few more beats of momentary silence, before a flutter of the curtains behind him arouses his sense. He turns. In the shadows, as ever, stands his mysterious accomplice, hidden by the shadows. “Hey” motions Crispy. “Shows over. You want to come next door and join us all for an after-show celebration?” The figure twitches, and slowly, ever so slowly, edges forward from the darkness and into the stage lighting. It’s former writer Film_Guru. He smiles, empathetically, some might say remorsefully, and shrugs his shoulders. “I’d like that but... well, it just wouldn’t feel right. This isn’t my domain anymore Crispy. I’ve no purpose amongst the Epinions writers, I’ve had my time and, well, I blew it. And the way I betrayed some of those people, the few who remember, I’m not sure I can look any of them in the face anymore”. “You can’t stick to the shadows all your life you know? People forgive, especially the people socialising beyond those doors” Guru sighs “Thanks all the same, but it just wouldn’t be right, me coming back after all these years. It’s not my domain anymore, people have moved on, no point in revisiting the past, right?” Crispy smiles, a smile of genuine sincerity “Right” Guru gives him a wink, steps back to move away “Oh, by the way. The bill for the drinks won’t be ready for a few weeks. The curators say their calculators are only big enough for nine digit figures”. Before Crispy can turn, Guru is gone, the space he previously inhabited empty, bar a single sheet of paper folded in half. Crispy grimaces as the realisation of how much tonight is going to damage his overdraft, walks up to the piece of paper and unfolds it. It’s a copy of the insurance form. He scans through it, noticing that one specific part has been highlighted in green marker: “…fire damage...” Crispy thinks, a devious plan popping into his head. He spins on his heels, strides to the orchestra pit and scoops Oliver up from the bedding he had made on the inside of a trombone. “Hi there little fella. Fancy joining a little soiree before heading off down to the local petrol station?” Oliver squints as his eyes attempt to focus, its arms wrapping around Crispy’s neck, eyes smiling back. His mouth opens, as if by some miracle a human word will pass through its lips. But this is no miracle, it’s vomit, and it erupts forth and all down Crispy’s tuxedo like a bile-filled tsunami. Crispy pauses for a second before lowering Oliver to the floor. “Well, I guess that’ll teach me to feed you banana and crisp sandwiches before a night on the piss” Crispy grabs the animals hairy paw and, pausing only to wipe a chunk or two of undigested food off his person, leads his primate colleague towards the dining hall doors, and pushes them open, the light from beyond drowning the arena in a blinding glow that causes our twosome to pause momentarily before, like a quasi-religious pairing, step through to the other side...  |
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