Dear David Hasselhoff

Dear David Hasselhoff,

I do not like you. You know how everyone has that one celebrity they cannot stand, who grids their gears, who irks them to the core—I am sure you have one too. Well, that one is you for me. I have no real reason to dislike you. I have never met you. Although a friend of mine worked for a major retail store, and as the story goes, this friend’s manager was serving you and your daughter and you tried to bargain down a thousand dollar coat and made a whole scene when you were denied. I have not even really familiarized myself with your work to make this judgment against you, but I have encountered just enough. This is not to say that I do not find you funny, I do. I found that video you made of Knight Rider funny, and some other appearances of yours, sure. But to be honest, I just cannot shake the distaste. And just like how I image it will be when I meet my future mate, I can pinpoint the exact moment this aversion arose. 

Vocal 8: senior year of high school. That was the year we sang songs from musicals and operas—my favorite class. I sang, “Nothing” from A Chorus Line and “A New Life” from Jekyll and Hyde—you should be intimately familiar with the latter. It was mid-way through the semester. Our teacher had been showing us clips of different performances from Broadway shows. And somehow she had gotten a copy of you as the lead, the title character(s), from Jekyll and Hyde. It was during the transformation scene, the song “Alive,” which is incidentally one of my favorite songs from the show (but only now, not then). The blocking had you singing with your face turned towards the ground as you battled the transformation, then face turned towards the audience, back and forth as a red light framed your face. I must have had quite the distorted face on my façade because my guy friend next to me leaned over and asked, “Are you alright?” I said, “Yea, yea,” tilting my head. “I am just trying to figure out if this guy is attractive or not,” I said. Said classmate said then, “Who? David Hasselhoff?! Ew!” “Yea, you are right!” I said back. “He also sucks. He can’t sing!” And that was the moment. That was the time. The exact moment I knew I could never take you seriously as a serious thespian.

Here! Look! I found it. Caution: my memory made it slightly more dramatic. But the horror is still definitely there, and that is not because of Hyde, but because of Hasselhoff:



But be warned, this is how it is supposed to be sung:


So this is my confrontation, my confession. And who knows, maybe it will turn into an obsession—maybe someday you will change my mind—but that is a dangerous game to play, these maybes. For now I continue to dislike you. I continue to cry, YUCK! when your name is mentioned. I do not think that will fade so fast. So I am sorry for that.

Lovingly, 
Lulu

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