Mrs. Malkin, giving in can be wrong.
By The other night I dreamt I was nine years old, on stage, singing “There’s No Easy Way Out” for assembled parents on the last day of summer camp. It was a horrifying dream made all the worse by the fact that it was a memory. My camp counselors forced me to belt out songs from the Rocky IV soundtrack because, I assume, they are terrible human specimens.
Just the worst.
But as humiliating as it is to admit to having been some failed lifeguard’s dancing monkey, I take comfort in knowing that I didn’t choose to sing that song or the Diet Coke jingle that preceded it: a seventeen-year-old man-child made me do it because of something he mistook for “reasons.”
All of which is only to say that Michelle Malkin’s parents need to sue whatever camp they sent her to for this:
I mean, her counselors even made her title it a “parody video,” like they knew how few mad props and scrip dividends her version of “Raise of the Roof” would’ve netted at the next PTA meeting sans the signposting. Or with it even. But when I watch that video — which I only did once, for the purpose of research — all I see is this:
SHE’S NOT CRYING. SHE’S NOT CRYING.
Except obviously on the inside, which is almost enough to make you feel sorry for her.
Almost.