Ya know, I should just say, right from the start: Insert Your Own Joke Here.
When I was in college taking a screenwriting class I once submitted a script that was a parody of the televison show, The Waltons, which had jumped the shark by then and was edging slowly toward its painful lingering death. Not that my script was any sort of Great Art; it was just to complete some assignment and move on with my life. I don't remember much about it except that as one might imagine I was cruel and snarky and somehow indicated that the John-Boy character (I forget what I called him or her) was basically commercializing his fond family memories for a quick buck (hmmmm...), and as the family sat around the table they started discussing the residuals they would get when the show went into syndication. There was also a tiresome snotty precocious little girl out of the gazillion kids who, like a little barefoot and overalled Mojo-slash-intellectual snot-slash-Greek chorus, questioned every plot point and every utterance by the other characters that did not make logical sense. Sort of like a precursor to Lisa Simpson on The Simpsons, only with a Waltons-esque twang.