Parodies for Charities!

Parodies for Charities proceeds are currently going to RAIIN. 

Parodies for Charities began in November 2016; its original mission statement is below. The world has changed in some ways since then [ETA 11/6/24: and in some big ways, it hasn't]. But the need to help each other is the same, and so is my own wish to do so by means of silliness.

When in the course of inhuman events it becomes necessary to remind the powerful that, for one thing, the word "consent" appears right in our nation's first founding document (look it up), it also becomes necessary to do something about it. For we held these truths to be self-evident, but apparently they bear repeating: that we (including but not limited to straight white dudes) are endowed by our creator (regardless of our belief or lack thereof in any particular creator) with certain in-freaking-alienable rights, among them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, which at this point pretty much requires that we laugh.

Okay, so here's the thing. I keep wanting to respond to the gigantic need for help right now, but most of what I come up with is words. So I finally asked myself, how can I turn words into more tangible contributions?

By selling them and donating the proceeds, of course.

And so, I invite you to commission a parody (of anything--a poem, a song, a children's book, a historical document...). Ridiculous requests encouraged. It can be something for your own entertainment or inspiration, or something to stick in a Christmas stocking or share over a plate of latkes. I'm happy to write about people I don't know and in-jokes I'm not in on; just feed me some details.

All proceeds will go to organizations that could use some proceeds. The first $50, which I'll match, will go to RAINN.

Starting rate is $10; rates negotiable for long or especially complicated works. To be clear, Parodies for Charities provides words only, as my attempts at visual arts or singing would not further the goal of making the world a better place. 

UPDATE JULY 2023: Song parody recordings now available from Sarah Goldberg!

Lead time: We'll talk. A week should usually be plenty; if I think it'll be more than that at the time of your request, I'll let you know that upfront.

Email shoshana dot flax at gmail dot com for all your parody needs.

Reality. On TV.

My first memory of something in the news is from an election when I was little. As far as I can tell, it was a million times less contentious than the current one (which is why I'm skipping the specifics--no one deserves the comparison). I was not exactly politically aware, but my parents explained to me what was happening in basic terms, and I knew which candidate they hoped would win.

The day after the election, they told me that the other candidate had won, and I remember being very surprised. To my young mind, this thing happening far away, involving two men I'd never met, was a story. And stories were supposed to have happy endings. (Which were defined by the adults around me.)

It's easy to feel like what's happening in the news is a story, even when we understand it a little better than I did way back when. Most of us don't know the candidates personally, but we've been told a lot about them, so they become characters to us. It's somewhat natural for them to occupy the same space in our brains as, say, Hermione and Voldemort, even natural for us to want to rubberneck when one of them does something shocking. I know I've been guilty of that sometimes. I've even caught myself assuming things will turn out okay, because that's how the story's supposed to go.

The thing is, we have no power over the (canonical) fate of Hogwarts. We--at least, probably the majority of people reading this--do have some power over the fate of a lot of other things.

 Like many others, I keep thinking lately of Mrs. Banks and her "Sister Suffragette" song in the Mary Poppins movie. Mrs. Banks wasn't real, but the people she sang about were, and so were their counterparts here in the U.S. They knew that the stories they read in the newspaper were real, and they wanted to do something about them.

Well done, sister suffragettes. Now it's our turn.