The Ruse Is Unveiled
This is the final chapter of our strung out for blog posts epic. We’d like to say this worked out well, doing impromptu fictional posts about real executives at NBC, but if anything, it proved we need to do an outline before attempting this again, and we need to get our name off of this website.
Silverman: Why? Do you need a loan after your losing run last night.
Ebersol: Not exactly….Uh, where’s Bob?
Silverman: Just sleeping it off in the other room. All the women left a couple hours ago.
Ebersol: Well, let me just get to the point then. The network began to see you not as a potential asset, but as a liability. And given your often decadent lifestyle, they wanted me to catch you in a compromising position so they would have enough leverage to force you out quietly.
Silverman: Wow. I did feel like something was afoot.
Ebersol: You’re kidding, how?
Silverman: Come on, Dick! You’re a smart guy, there’s no way you could have possibly thought that doing an ad campaign for NBC sports would boost our ratings.
Ebersol: (Collapses head in hands) I fucking knew that would seem like bullshit.
Silverman: Relax, at least you came clean about it.
Ebersol: Anyway, this is the recorder they gave me, it probably caught a bit of you last night though I haven’t confirmed that.
Silverman: This fucking thing. Were you wearing this the whole time?
Ebersol: Just from dinner on.
Silverman: Jesus!
Ebersol: I’m sorry, Ben.
Silverman: Is it sending a feed to a van out in the parking lot or something?
Ebersol: No, I think it’s just a digital recorder, not a transmitter. Is this going to be a problem?
Silverman steps on recording device, rips the wires for it in half.
Silverman: Not anymore.
Ebersol: Look, what do you want me to say to them. I’ll deliver any message you ask.
Silverman: Let me handle it. Can I ask, why did you come clean? You had all the incentive in the world to just play the middle man.
Ebersol: A series of things, I saw what you did for Bob, you actually kept your word and were willing to meet this morning, and you seem to have a decent case against the rest of the board, even though I think you’re handling it incorrectly.
Silverman: Was this all Jeff’s idea?
Ebersol: Not at all. I mean, he authorized it. But was reluctant to do so. It seemed to mostly be Rich and Marc Graboff’s doing. Everyone else kind of passively agreed with a little insistence from Mike.
Silverman: Wow, none of that surprises me.
Costas: (Yawn) It’s tired in here.
Silverman: Go back to bed Bob, You’ll need the sleep for what I have planned tonight.
Costas: I’m just getting some juice.
Costas returns to his bedroom.
Ebersol: Are you sure you want to take care of this on your own?
Cut to the following Monday morning, Zucker invites Silverman in for a one on one, still hasn’t heard from Ebersol.
Silverman: So what did you want to talk about?
Zucker: Your behavior as of late.
Silverman: Mine? Shit, you should have seen Costas this weekend.
Zucker: That was isolated. Your continuous disregard for our opinions, your crass, drunken malaise, we do not have the time or success for such insubordination.
Silverman: Dick couldn’t produce anything, huh?
Zucker: Excuse me? What would he produce, exactly?
Silverman: I found the recorder and destroyed it. Now since your ploy fell through, you are trying to reason with me. Well, I can tell you right now, I’m not going to be placated. At last not easily.
Zucker: I still have no idea what you’re talking about.
Silverman: Yes you do. And the only way you’re going to make this right is to one, fire Rich Cotton. And two, extend my contract through 2015.
Zucker: Not going to happen. Besides, what evidence do you have?
Silverman: Don’t need any, you just cannot have the media shitstorm that will ensue if it becomes public that you were trying to force me out. I might as well be making the whole thing up, but since you and I both know its true, you probably want to keep it from getting out.
Zucker: Well go ahead.
Silverman: Come on, Jeff. I know it wasn’t your idea, but when you are staring down everyone at these meetings, it’s hard to say no.
Zucker: 2012.
Silverman: 2014.
Zucker: 2013. (Holds out hand to shake)
Silverman: (reciprocates) We’ve got a deal. I want that motherfucker out of here by the end of the day though.
Zucker: (Into Intercom) Can you send Rich Cotton in here please?
Receptionist: Right away.
Zucker: Christ, what have I done?
Silverman: You know it’s the right move.
Silverman leaves, and passes Cotton on the way out.
Silverman: Enjoy the WB, dickhead.
Cotton: Huh?
And so ends our national nightmare. I hope at least someone enjoyed this nonsensical rambling. Still, don’t blame me….well blame me, but blame the state of television for giving us so little to work with that we’re forced to dredge up this tripe.
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