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25 WAYS TO MAKE YOUR PARENTS LOVE THE MONKEES
By A Monkeemaniac
Are you a deprived child? An underprivileged urchin? An abused offspring? I can dig it because my parents used to complain when I tried to watch The Monkees too. Then I came up with an absolutely foolproof, sure-fire, trouble-free way for making my parents (and ANY parents) positively love the Monkees. Actually, it took 25 ways on my parents but if they can be turned on, then anyone’s parents can learn to live with, love and enjoy the Monkees!
Try not to sit on the edge of your chair, tearing the couch cushions apart for a half hour before the show. Act casual, non-chalant. That way your parents will just think you happened to turn on the set and there they were. They won’t realize you have waited in nervous anticipation for an entire week.
Do not carve ME + THE MONKEES on the television cabinet. Do it on your school locker door instead. If you already have carved it on the set, offer to pay for the refinishing.
Mention in casual conversation at the dinner table that Mike, Micky and Peter all attended college and you think they have been a good influence on you. When your parents ask why, say it’s because now you want to finish school rather than quit next week like you had been planning.
Chew on an old blanket, sweater or your arm instead of screaming loudly when your favorite Monkee comes on the screen.
Buy personalized ear plugs for your parents in case you can’t stifle those involuntary screams.
Keep the volume down low on the television set. Chain your hands to the couch so you can’t turn it up full blast when your favorite song comes on.
Do not pull out more than a handful of your own hair during any show. You can explain a handful by quoting that normal hair loss is between 50 and 100 hairs a day. But more than one handful, even though it was pulled out when Davy was whispering the lyrics to “I Want To Be Free” to a blonde starlet, could cause you serious parental trouble not to mention ruining your hairstyle.
Do not talk only about the Monkees to your girlfriends—at least around your parents. Devise a code. For instance, Davy could be Donald, Micky could be Martin, Mike could be Mack and Peter could be Pervical or someone you just might know. Keep the first letter the same and all your friends will really know who you are talking about. And this way, your parents will think you are developing a well-rounded set of friends.
Look up big words in the dictionary and drop them into conversation around home. When your parents ask what “insurbordination of the conglomerated verbiage” means, just say that the Monkees use it all the time. They won’t have the nerve to demand an explanation after that, which is lucky for you because I don’t really think it means anything intelligible.
Try to keep the sarcasm out of your voice when you remind your father that Davy, Mike, Micky and Peter probably earn more money than he does—and they’re still in their early twenties.
When you cut up your bedspread to make a poncho like Micky’s, explain that English designer Mary Quant got her start when she cut up an heirloom bedspread to make a mini dress. And Mary has been honored by the Queen.
Buy lots of terrible albums on sale. Play them loudly all the time (buy yourself earplugs first). Then when the Monkees come on, your parents will praise their music.
Remind your parents that they probably dug the Marx Brothers and Charlie Chaplin but they have refused to change with the times and watch the Monkees. That will probably make them mad and you’ll get grounded for a day or two, but it will give them something to think about.
Start watching every bad musical program on television—especially those aimed at people even older than your parents. Then they’ll really start worrying about you and probably be glad when you turn on the Monkees.
Expain [sic] that you are watching the Monkees as a homework assignment for your Speech and Drama class. If that works, try explaining that Tiger Beat is required reading in your English class. If that works, audition immediately for an acting role.
Read all you can about the Monkees—order back issues and everything—because somewhere in one of those four lives is something to which your parents can relate. Like, maybe your mother’s birthday is the same as Mike’s. Or maybe your father lived in Connecticut and so did Peter. Or your father is a mechanic and Micky studied auto mechanics at a trade school. But make it something positive. Do not say to your mother, who once fell off a horse and broke her leg, “Did you know Davy Jones was a jockey?” She won’t like it.
Remind your parents that the Hollywood Strings cut an album of Monkee songs.
Do not give your father a Monkee tie for Father’s Day. Give him the muted brown one instead. Give the Monkee tie to your boyfriend.
When your father sings one of his own compositions in the shower, tell him it is good enough to be a Monkee song and suggest he write it down and send it to them.
Do not, under any circumstances, suggest your parents write in the Monkees in the presidential election—even a primary.
Swiping your father’s small change to help you buy a ticket to the next Monkee concert is strictly forbidden. Earn the money, even if it requires work. Besides, your parents will like that.
Never threaten to run away, burn the house, kick in the TV set or do anything rash if you are not allowed to watch a Monkee program. Just say “Alright” very quietly and let them wonder.
Immediately after a Monkee program, furiously begin cleaning your room, doing the dishes or tackling your homework. Keep saying how the Monkees inspire you to really work.
If the house next door to you is for sale, don’t keep saying that you hope a rock and roll group just like the Monkees moves in.
Explain that you have grown out of the Monkee stage and are ready to try “older” things. That will REALLY scare them into letting you watch, by now, everybody’s favorite program!
Magazine: Monkee Spectacular
Editor: Ralph Benner
Publisher: Laufer Publishing Co.