🎤 Mic’d Up, Striped Out, and Unapologetically Loud

You hear that?

That’s the sound of my mic picking up every ounce of disrespect you just muttered under your breath.

Yeah… we heard you.

And so did the cameras, the crowd, and your grandma watching from Section 214.

I’m not just officiating this game…
I’m narrating it.

With volume.

You thought I’d whisper my authority?

Nah.

I project.

I enunciate.

And when I make a call,
it echoes through your ego like a buzzer-beater in overtime.

Don’t like the call?
File a complaint.
I’ll staple it to my stat sheet…
and bury it under “W’s Earned.”

Because if you think I’m doing all this cardio just to keep quiet…
you’ve mistaken me for a mute in stripes.

This isn’t just a mic’d-up moment.
This is performance art.

And you’re lucky to be in the audience.