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February 25, 2016 - Image 7

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The Michigan Daily

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“Lazy Sunday” was blasting

out of my dad’s office when
he called my sisters and me in
to watch Andy Samberg and
Chris Parnell rhythmically talk
about Narnia and Magnolia
cupcakes. At the time, I wasn’t
completely sure what was going
on in the small video box on
the screen, but I laughed along
because all the older, wiser
members of my family were.
Quickly, Samberg’s voice was
followed up by the blaring tune
of “Numa Numa” featuring an
overweight man gesticulating
wildly on screen — and my
introduction to YouTube was
officially
complete.
“Numa

Numa” played us out.

Born in the digital age,

I never had any difficulty
grasping
the
concept
of

YouTube. While it was foreign
in the face of adults who were
still wrapping their minds
around DVD, YouTube was
just another format on the
continuously growing list of
platforms that allowed me to

publicize my life to friends
and strangers alike. I would
obsessively watch MadTV’s
Stuart
squealing,
“Look

what I can do!” and track
down bootlegged episodes of
“The Suite Life of Zack and
Cody” while simultaneously
loading low-quality, pixelated
versions of PG-13 movies at
the scandalous age of 10. The
buffering symbol was the bane
of my existence as a child,
but little did I know that the
Internet was preparing me for
an acid wash that no chemical
compound could sustain.

So let’s take it back, to Natalie

Zak circa the seventh grade.
Privileged and spoiled, I was
blessed with the opportunity to
go to London at age 11, an age
where I could at least pretend
to appreciate world cultures
(while in reality I was slightly
confused about how geography
works). I remember boarding
the plane while still fuzzy
on the concept of countries
and land masses; even then, a

casual onlooker could tell my
future was bright.

A trip highlighted by art

galleries and carefully selected
Gap Kids outfits, it marked
a substantial shift in my
adolescence and personality.
Turning on the TV in the
hotel room to find YouTube an
available application, my sisters
and I immediately logged on
and were greeted by the fateful
words that will forever be
seared in my memory: “Alex
Reads Twilight: Chapter 1.”

I was doomed before we

even
finished
the
video.

Like any adolescent, I was
experiencing my middle school
excursion into Anglophilia that
involved Union Jack T-shirts
and a feigned passion for The
Beatles (whom I couldn’t have
known less about at the time).
Had it not been for the video of
a scrawny, overly opinionated
British teenager, I could have
escaped this phase unscathed.
Instead, I came out bruised
and bloody on the other side,

having lost years of my life to
an endless series of five-minute
rants and ramblings.

“Alex
Reads
Twilight”

served as my entrance into the
world of British YouTube, and
I was immediately hooked. I
took in everything Alex Day
said as the word of God even
though his godless existence
preached nothing of value.
His
outlandish
ideas
and

championed causes became
ones I ran around proclaiming.
Through a platform of easily
manipulated tween girls, Day
built his career.

From the snarkiness and

sass of “nerimon,” I moved
to the lighter, more cheerful
Charlie McDonnell, otherwise
known as “charlieissocoollike.”
While watching him dye his
hair red and adorn token
glasses, I learned of a little
button underneath the video
that urged me to make the
relationship
binding
¬—

“subscribe.”

B
The Michigan Daily | michigandaily.com | Thursday, February 25, 2016
the b-side

See YOUTUBE, Page 2B

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I think it’s better if you just stop making videos.

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Alex Day is a disaster, stop watching his videos and stop supporting
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Confessions of a Middle School Anglophile:
The Toxic YouTube Vlogger Community

By Natalie Zak,
Daily Community Culture Editor

DESIGN BY SCOTTY HARDIN & JACKLYN THOMAS

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