She welcomed with a "How you guys doin!?"
followed with a "Who's excited about ballroom dancing!?"
and then more "Let me hear who's pumped!?"
The bleacher crowd sounded about like the rest of Main Street Festival. I tried to muster a sympathetic smile when her manic, desperate smile-plastered gaze swept in my direction. I couldn't muster the whoop! or the Yeah! that she wanted, but I felt bad for her. She seemed to speaking a language that everyone recognized but whose artifice felt too forced here on the bleachers at the North End of Main Street, the abandoned Hoover Plant looming behind our backs.
Game show hosts, Used Car Salesmen, Cheerleaders, Informercial Entrepeneurs, Youth Pastors, College Presidents.
The world feels just slightly overcrowded with a language desperate to Pump. Us. Up.
Is there already a name for this phenomenon? Hypespeak? An inflection of the voice so promotionally optimistic that it seems naive at best, delusional at worst?