Diary of a Failing Sketch Group

So, Back to the Future, right?

I know what you’re thinking: “Great, now this asshole is gonna shit all over an 80s classic.” Or more likely you’re thinking, “Why do I keep reading these things,” or still more likely, “Who is this twat?”

But no, Back to the Future is a blast. It’s got time travel, incest, Christopher Lloyd… You’d think more movies would try and rip it off for success. I mean, Who Framed Roger Rabbit has got Christopher Lloyd and bestiality, but it’s just not the same without a time traveling DeLorean.



I’m not going to shit all over Back to the Future. I’m going to shit over selected parts of it. And this isn’t going to one of those rants where I complain about the minute problems that you can find in any movie if you’re looking for them. You know, those “I don’t like Jaws because Great Whites usually don’t grow to that size” kind of assholes.

In fact all of my complaints are going to fit into the very narrow subject of “Gripes With Time Travel.” I’ve never liked time travel in fiction. Not in books, not in movies, not in video games (unless it lets me rewind time to dodge a bullet or ripe a Nazis face off). And that’s because you can’t put time travel in a story without getting massive plot holes along with it.

Example: in The Terminator, Kyle Reese gets sent back in time by John Connor to protect his mother, Sarah Connor. Kyle fucks Sarah, she gets pregnant and gives birth to John. In the future, John sends Kyle back in time, Kyle gets Sarah pregnant, etc, etc, until time collapses in on itself. It doesn’t take a particle physicist to realize that this is totally fucking impossible. It begs the question: if Kyle is really John’s father, but Kyle is born in the future, how the fuck did he impregnate Sarah in the first place?



Basically if you’re going to make a movie about time travel that doesn’t involve parallel time lines, you’re going to have to contradict the timeline. Or the protagonist has to fail. And that just brings everybody down. Back to the Future isn’t an egregious offender. After all, Marty McFly’s actions end up changing all of history. But there are two things that seem weird and one that seems, well, racist. But in a fun way!

One of the central plots of the movie is that Marty has accidentally disrupted his parents’ first meeting and has stopped them from falling in love. Because of this, he’s currently disappearing from time. So unless Marty can get them back together, the space time continuum is going to bend him over the back of his DeLorean and power 1.21 gigawatts of semen up his asshole. Overcomplicated imagery aside, you’ll be relieved to know that Marty succeeds in getting his parents to fall in love, with the added bonus of making his father more aggressive, improving Marty’s future life.



The real question here is why does this stop Marty from disappearing? As far as Marty’s existence is concerned, when his parents fall in love isn’t nearly as important as when Marty is conceived. That is what is important to his existence. And the chances that his parents have sex on the exact same date at the exact same time and that the exact same sperm fertilizes the exact same egg from his mother are astronomical.

Think about it. Women have a finite number of eggs and they’re coming out each month in no particular order. Complicate that with the fact that the average man ejaculates between 50 to 500 million sperm whenever he blows his load. Take that and factor in masturbation, menstruation, and “honey I’m too tired” to throw the whole thing off. Not to mention that since Marty has made his father more aggressive and that his mother is a sexhound, they’re probably going to start fucking a whole lot sooner than in the previous timeline. Last but not least, Marty is the youngest of three children, so that’s assuming everything goes fine when trying to conceive the first two.

It adds up to something like a trillion to one. That’s how fucking lucky Marty has to get. It’s amazing that after his parents got reunited, Marty didn’t grow eight inches or have cystic fibrosis or turn Chinese or something.



Moving on. I suppose that’s the bigger gripe of the first two, but I saved this one for second because it’s so much more fun. Let’s assume that because Marty’s parents got together at the big dance like they did originally and that the whole “sex thing” lines up perfectly. Even then, there’s a big ole plot hole. The conversation would go a little something like this:

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George McFly: Say, Marty. Do you got a minute?

Marty McFly: Sure, Dad. What’s up?

George McFly: Well, son… your mother and I were talking and, well, there’s something we’d like to ask you.

Marty McFly: Shoot!

George McFly: Well, Marty, this might sound strange, but you look almost exactly like this good friend I had in high school. I only knew him for a few days, but he’s the one who gave me the courage to ask out your mother. She even had a crush on him for a little while.

Marty McFly: (Awkward Silence)

George McFly: Furthermore, she said she kissed him once and that it felt… well, familial. He also predicted that our youngest son would set the living room carpet on fire when he was eight. Which you did. Do you get what I’m saying, son?

Marty McFly: What exactly are you asking, Dad?

George McFly: Well, son… are you a time traveling robot? Or are you some kind of alien or witch or something?

Marty McFly: (More Awkward Silence)

George McFly: I just ask because you always hang out with Doc Brown and he’s got that flying car that disappears in a fantastic ray of light whenever he uses it.
-

Seems odd, doesn’t it? That you would meet some guy in high school who introduced you to your future wife and then thirty years later your youngest child looks exactly like him? I’m not a violent man, but if I saw that sort of crap I’d probably grab the shotgun off the wall and start killing until it all made sense.

But those two are peanuts compared to the last little problem I have with this otherwise great film, because not only does it make no sense but it’s fantastically racist. After Marty gets his mother and his father to fall in love, he decides to dick around onstage with the band, playing a cover of Johnny B. Goode.

Everyone seems to enjoy it, including one of the band members, Marvin Berry. He’s so excited that he gets on the phone and calls his cousin so he can listen to the song. Anyone wanna guess the name of Marvin’s cousin? That’s right, Chuck. Chuck Berry. Apparently after hearing Marty play Johnny B. Goode, Chuck Berry stole it.



So you’re telling me that one of the greatest pioneers of rock and roll, a black art form, was just stealing his ideas from a white guy?

Well, well, well, Back to the Future, how do you explain yourself? It’s a lot like your best friend accidentally using the N-word at a party. Sure he can back peddle and say he was just kidding, but even then, you’ve made a big fucking mistake. Maybe racism wasn’t such a hot button issue in 1985 (it certainly was in 1955), but still you have to wonder what the hell the writers were thinking? It’s not such a stretch to have Marty play a different song by a famous white musician. Although since most of the good ones were British, it would have made a lot less sense for Salbert Lennon to call John up in Liverpool.

Anyway, I’ve said my piece about Back to the Future, and now I can go back to doing important things, like making dick jokes or complaining about hippies or something. One can only dream.