I can now die a happy man.
You know how there are those things in your life–objects, songs, whatever–that are special and unique and nearly irreplaceable? They’re sorta like mementos, except mementos sit on a dusty shelf in your bedroom, and the kind of thing I’m talking about lives. It’s that unbelievable album you found in a bargain bin at some grungy, indie music store when you got lost in New York one summer afternoon. It’s that photo someone gave you back in high school, the one you thought you lost, the one that captured you and your best friend in poses that summed up your relationship to a T. It’s that video you recorded off the public access channel, the one that’s gotten grubby with age, but you can still see and hear that New Age burnout talking about the conversation she had with her vagina over dinner. Surely you must have something like that in your life.
Well, for me, that something is a videotape of a woman named Carol, subsequently dubbed “Carol Peril”.
The Carol Peril tape–allegedly found in a Wal-Mart parking lot in the wilds of North Carolina–was brought to my attention by my friend Zod. He and his friends used to watch it before, during, and after the consumption of large amounts of controlled substances. Now I understand why.
Basically, if Gray Gardens were shot in a trailer park, the Carol Peril tape is what you’d get–only Carol’s revolutionary costumes are much, much scarier. Carol is now deceased, but she inspired many in her time–including our lil’ ol’ theatre company, which penned Grenadine McGunkle’s Double-Wide Christmas after watching Carol at one too many holiday parties.
Anyway, long story short (I know: too late), someone recently posted the Carol vid on YouTube. I’ve borrowed it and reposted it to my own account, just in case he gets second thoughts about the ethical ramifications of sharing Carol with the entire world.
And now, my life is truly complete.
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