It's your parade, and I'm just the guy to rain on it.
Geez, it's been a while, hasn't it? Okay, so by now you may have realized I'm not the most consistant blogger in the universe. I pretty much write in here when I think of something to say. Otherwise I spend my valuable time pursuing the more cerebral of pastimes: Reading comic books and masturbating.
But never at the same time, my friends.
Well... never again, anyway...
What was I saying? Oh yeah, irresponsible blogger here.
So what important topic has caused me on this very fine day to put fingers to keys and compose an entry? I just feel the buring need to tell you all that I hate parades. Hate 'em, hate 'em, hate 'em.
I understand that the majority of you may feel differently. I mean, if everyone hated parades, they would probably stop having the fucking things. I'm going to go right ahead and declare myself firmly in the minority when it comes to parade-hatred. Sorry.
I just don't see the point of these things. Stand in one place while a bunch of jackasses you've never met drive past you really slowly and wave. Sometimes they are in old cars, sometimes new cars. Sometimes the cars are cleverly disguised under mountains of paper mache and made to resemble giant horses, giant cakes or giant busts of Abraham Lincoln. But I can tell they're really cars. I'm insightful that way.
Don't give me that "But there's marching bands!!!" crap either... Marching bands (much like floats, "Grand Marshalls" and the ultimate in useless inventions, the baton) wouldn't exist if not for parades. And I'd be okay with that. I like music and all, but I could live without hearing Fleetwood Mac's greatest hits performed by 50 sweaty 8th graders while on the move.
Okay. I'm getting grumpy, aren't I? I should point out that I come down firmly in favor of fairs, carnivals, and most other forms of "Small town" entertainment. Maybe because there's other stuff to do at these events besides standing around watching traffic. You all can keep the parades though. Not for me.
So to sum up this entire blog in two words: Parades Suck.
Or if you prefer: Baker Stupid.
As a postscript for any of you that live in (or are familiar with) the Philladelphia area, I do not include the Mummers in my hatered of parades. The Mummers is not a parade. It is what would happen if American Idol and Starlight Express had a baby, and it is awesome.
Geez, it's been a while, hasn't it? Okay, so by now you may have realized I'm not the most consistant blogger in the universe. I pretty much write in here when I think of something to say. Otherwise I spend my valuable time pursuing the more cerebral of pastimes: Reading comic books and masturbating.
But never at the same time, my friends.
Well... never again, anyway...
What was I saying? Oh yeah, irresponsible blogger here.
So what important topic has caused me on this very fine day to put fingers to keys and compose an entry? I just feel the buring need to tell you all that I hate parades. Hate 'em, hate 'em, hate 'em.
I understand that the majority of you may feel differently. I mean, if everyone hated parades, they would probably stop having the fucking things. I'm going to go right ahead and declare myself firmly in the minority when it comes to parade-hatred. Sorry.
I just don't see the point of these things. Stand in one place while a bunch of jackasses you've never met drive past you really slowly and wave. Sometimes they are in old cars, sometimes new cars. Sometimes the cars are cleverly disguised under mountains of paper mache and made to resemble giant horses, giant cakes or giant busts of Abraham Lincoln. But I can tell they're really cars. I'm insightful that way.
Don't give me that "But there's marching bands!!!" crap either... Marching bands (much like floats, "Grand Marshalls" and the ultimate in useless inventions, the baton) wouldn't exist if not for parades. And I'd be okay with that. I like music and all, but I could live without hearing Fleetwood Mac's greatest hits performed by 50 sweaty 8th graders while on the move.
Okay. I'm getting grumpy, aren't I? I should point out that I come down firmly in favor of fairs, carnivals, and most other forms of "Small town" entertainment. Maybe because there's other stuff to do at these events besides standing around watching traffic. You all can keep the parades though. Not for me.
So to sum up this entire blog in two words: Parades Suck.
Or if you prefer: Baker Stupid.
As a postscript for any of you that live in (or are familiar with) the Philladelphia area, I do not include the Mummers in my hatered of parades. The Mummers is not a parade. It is what would happen if American Idol and Starlight Express had a baby, and it is awesome.
posted by CommonWombat at 2:54 PM
1 Comments:
Obviously, my friend, you have never been to a muster. Picture colonial garb, fifes and drums, cannons gettin' fired, ragged prisoners getting dragged along the road, muskets shot and bagpipers piping. It rocks! My family goes to one every year in the town my mom grew up in.
http://www.ctrivervalley.com/4/festivals_and_fairs/deep_river_ancient_muster/
Maybe it won't sway you, but I must say, I'm not a parade-goer either, unless it's a muster. I do like those little shriner cars that rip around in figure eights ... I just want one pair to crash when I'm there! Love -- yer devoted blog reader -- dog butt
Post a Comment
<< Home