The danger of parodying someone or something or some concept or whatever is that you tend to transform exactly into what annoys you, in the same way that FBI serial killer profilers become serial killers themselves. Back in college I’ve parodied the cono lifestyle and their way of speaking for around one semester, and we’ve had a couple of laughs in the beginning, until Groin slapped me one afternoon and admonished that “can you make tusok the fishball for me, Groin,” no longer sounded parodycial (don’t look it up, it’s invented conjugation). Or back in high school and college, when I absolutely reviled boy band/ girl band music and would always say with much disdain that I looooved it, until I realized that I could sing their songs in videoke without looking at the lyrics. And you all know what happened when I started parodying whininess—I’ve transformed into one infernal whiny whore.
I don’t even remember how it started, or who I was trying to parody, but in the quarters I’ve been ordering people around and telling them to do stuff in the most demanding, annoying, spoiled brat way. “Hey JD-Lu can you get a black plastic trash bag from ward 1 and place it on the floor beside my table so I can throw my trash?” for instance, which of course resulted in JD-Lu straightening a piece of wire clothes hanger and threatening to hook out my pituitary transnasally with it—I know, he’s probably seen the X-Files episode Teliko. Occasionally someone would indulge me, and it is to Cryola’s credit that she has sustained preparing breakfast sandwiches for me for quite some time. And I have sustained the demanding mode, which resulted in a rather puzzling exchange a few days ago.
Me: Ooooh, cake. Hey Cryola, can you slice some for me and place it on a paper plate so I wouldn’t have to wash anything afterwards?
Pyro: Ako rin.
HIV: But you can’t have some cake.
Me: Because you can’t have some cake and eat it too.
Pyro: But as Marie Antoinette said, “Let them eat cake”.
Indeed, let me eat cake. Lots of it.