At least I waste time in creative ways
I make bad parodies. I can't tell you why. Or maybe I can.
I just realized I can dump my parody videos here. I have a small library of them on my YouTube channel. It’s not entirely clear why I make them. I have not nor will I likely ever go viral, unless you count actual viruses of the body. And even if I did go viral, I’m not sure how that would benefit my real life in any way. Each of these parodies sucks away hours of my life (And probably suck generally, but you be the judge). They make absolutely no rational sense. But I find them entertaining so why not.
I have a long history of antics borne out of abject, crushing boredom. Growing up in 1980s Kenya—rural Kenya no less—I literally had no entertainment of any kind. No radio, no TV, obviously no internet. A limited stash of books. No public library. I used to make houses for my dolls out of sticks and mud balls. My sister started her own hand-drawn kid’s magazine (well, she made one issue). One time I wrote a “research paper” on Haiti using our set of encyclopedias. I chose Haiti because it started with an H, just like Holly. I learned that Haiti was even poorer than Kenya, got depressed, and moved on to talking to myself in the mirror in a British accent and singing along to the soundtrack of Annie.
In 1988, we did get a TV and VCR, which changed my life immensely, because it allowed my parents’ supporters to send us stuff taped off American TV. Or when we came back to the US, it allowed my parents to frantically tape TV themselves. We would hit American soil, and, after making a bee-line to the nearest Tex-Mex restaurant (because, obviously), they would immediately pop a VHS into the recorder of wherever we were staying and just ingest whatever. Usually old movies and wholesome shows. Even with such efforts, and with the robust mission field video tape exchange, the repertoire was quite limited, and the result is I know every single line of the Pink Panther movies. “The element of surprise. Of course I knew it was going to happen all the time but nevertheless.”
Incidentally, this sporadic but intense imbibing of American pop culture has left me with a bizarre collection of 1980's trivia. I have never seen an episode of Cheers (although that would have probably been true if we had never gone to Africa, as it is set in a bar and therefore is corrupting), but I can almost recite the six or so episodes of The Cosby Show we had on VHS, including the commercial breaks. My husband and I repeatedly have conversations that go something like this:
"She reminds me of Aly Sheedy in The Breakfast Club," Kevin will say.
"Who is that? Are we in a breakfast club? What do I need to cook?" I'll reply.
"No, the movie."
???
"YOU'VE NEVER SEEN THE BREAKFAST CLUB?"
"Does it come with breakfast? Because I could use some pancakes right about now."
"You're weird."
Then we have other conversations that go something like this:
"This is just like in Double Switch when he reveals he's actually a rock star," I say.
"What are you talking about?"
"You know, Double Switch! Great movie, I watched it like 35 times growing up."
"I don't think that is an actual movie."
"Yes, it is! It was on TV in 1988, starring George Newbern, who I had a massive crush on, and it had the best Walkman commercial in it too…Oh it was so good, I can't believe George Newbern isn’t a huge star right now.”
“You’re weird.”
If you watch any of my parodies, I’m sure you’ll agree on that point. Enjoy, if you can.
Incidentally, another reason I probably do these—I can pretend to be a singer in a context in which it’s understandable why someone who isn’t the best singer is singing publicly. I always wanted to be a singer. See, dreams do come true. You just have to be creative!
If I’ve saved one life from the somerset biker gang, i have fulfilled my purpose here. lol thanks so much!
Your parodies and stories always make me smile. And that may not seem like much but I think you’re awesome. Maybe you will go viral someday but even if you don’t, you’ll at least have the satisfaction of knowing that when my husband suggested stopping at a motel near where flight 93 went down on our way to pick up our eldest from college, I yelled “Hell no! We could all get killed by a biker gang!!!”