## AUTOMATICALLY GENERATED TRANSCRIPT ##
## SOURCE: UNDOCUMENTED ANSIBLE, REYNOLDS GROUP ##
## RUNTIME: APPROX. 1 STANDARD HOUR ##

So it's on, da? ...Th' mic. ...Yes, this mic; the one y' just spent a flakkin' hour tryin' t' get workin'. ...It's just a quest-- Then why didn't y' flakkin' say so?!

...Flakkin' useless piece o' coroxdaka... Yes, you, y' flakk! Who else w--

<<distinct sound of a hatch being slammed shut, followed by a long, grumble-filled pause>>

Treplin'...

'Ello, sector! I'm 'bout a handle-an'-a-half of grishki in by this point; seems gettin' this zhudaka set up t' broadcast wide's a bit more "involved" than we was expectin'. So, if things get a bit... bushie, don't blame me. Blame th' hand-foot'd ESS-OH-TEE that set it up.

I'm sure most o' the Belters already know who this is: hi, lov'lies! F'r the rest of y': I'm Rhujj, like th' color. ...Assumin' any of the rest of y' can hear me at all, 'least.

...Listen: I'll tell 'em what this 'bout when I flakkin' well wanna! Don't go pointin' at daka; I kno' what I'm doin'...

Anyway... This 'ere little show, rigged as it is, 'bout givin' those roughnecks who spend their days haulin' rocks, scoopin' gas, salvagin', clippin' Songbird wings, an' doin' good at bein' up to no good a bit of a respite from th' sound of micro'rites on their hull an' mercs tryin' t' dog 'em down.

'Fore my Krona cohort over there gets 'is knuckles twisted: no, we ain't takin' requests. Y' get what I give; iffn that ain't good 'nough, turn y' damn receiver off, voidheads. Get y' jollies elsewhere f'r all I care.

But! Since this handle is 'bout to be empty anyway, le's get this show rollin', shall we?

<<an amateurish, quick segue leads immediately to a lengthy music segment; most songs featured derive from the starcore and nanorock genres, as well as their myriad sub-genres; the returning segue lacks fading and is sudden>>

Well I don't give two dakas iffn they get up t' it. It's all th' other flakks I care 'bout. Ev'ry littl' daka that got hold one of them things, thinkin' they eithe' going to make the next breakthrou' or be able t' sell th' daka for a pretty mark...

What y' flakkin' mean I'm som' hypocrite?! ...Listen, that was jus' one-- a few times. Can y' blame me? Not my fault they willin' t' pay for 'em; not m' fault neithe' they get stuck suckin' down gumbo th' rest o' their lives. Don't mean I got t' like when they go bein' stupid with 'em someplace that act'ally matters, now is it?

...What y'? ...Oh! Yea'! 'Ey, folks, welcome back t'... Well what'd we decide t' call this 'gain? ...Always with th' allit'ration? ...Really? Y' ain't got nothin' better...?

<<an audible, heavy sigh>>

Welcome back t' "A Ruckus wit' Rhujj," I guess. ...Anyway, 'bout them last bits; I pick'd them out m'self, jus' like the rest. S', once 'gain, got any problems with m' musical tastes, take it up wit' th' Void. ...No, not lit'rally; last thing we need is more of them far-off-lookin' flakkers givin' me the creeps.

Let's get back t' the actual music, shall we?

<<less sudden, a quick fade transitions into yet another music segment; most songs are from the cantina-thrash genre, with occasional interludes into Belter folk; the announcer returns following a more polished fade>>

So m' friend in th' other room is tellin' me we're supposed to be takin' in demo-tracks an' other such daka from folks 'round the sector. I guess... Or somethin'. Whateve'.

Anyway, iffn y' want to have your tracks get play'd, then drop me a line an' I'll play it. Maybe. If it ain't daka. If it's daka, then I won't. So don't send me daka. Rock-haulers an' salvagers don't want t' listen to y' aetherscape zhudaka; they got hard 'nough time stayin' awake tuggin' 'round rocks as it is.

Y' can also pay me an' I'd be mor-- Us! Pay us, I mean. Yes. Us. Pay us an' I prob'ly play it. Prob'ly. ...It'd at least boost y' chances. ...Listen, we're in a rock wit' a dish; they want somethin' on the up'n'up they can go sign with LUCENT. They want t' get their daka play'd by someone with personal'ty, they can a'least pay off m' tab.

...Assumin' we can get this heap workin' a second time, anyway...

Rega'dless, this is Rhujj signin'-off. I'll leave y'all with some more of m' favorites. Y'all roughnecks stay safe out there; don't go shootin' n'body that ain't deservin' it. An' 'member: booze makes th' Belt bett'r!

<<a properly cut segue fades into a final music segment featuring songs primarily of the Belter folk and starcore genres; several minutes of dead air follow the final song before the broadcast terminates with a harsh, static-filled "zap">>

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