Happy Memorial Day

Imagine how mad you'd be if you gave your life for freedom and you where honored with a traffic jam coupled with carbon monoxide poisoning. Thirty minutes had passed before we realized the parade was over. It was a perfectly seamless transition from boorish emergency vehicles (as if anyone wants to be reminded of fire, disfigurement/death, and prison on their day off) to boorish civilian vehicles. No, I'm not at all embarrassed that we where cheering on '84 Chevy cavaliers and the like, but I was a little irritated, as were the shy owners of these lackluster vehicles. Actually, come to think of it, some looked pretty embarrassed. I guess that kinda makes sense given how self-conscious people are about their cars; as if that's the reason they're fat and dumb. I originally surmised that they must be legless vets who had to drive... Nope. Just boring everyday people that where mad at being stuck behind a parade. "How dare they have a parade on the day I get my hair done!"... You know- those kind of people. The best part of the parade, I feel I should add, was the octogenarians with rifles. That was quite thrilling, if not scary as hell. Anyway, I'm not even sure what I should write about, the 10 minute parade, or the unwilling participants in the parade who thought a 10 minute parade was more than enough to honor the victorious dead.

It has been 17 years since I had last seen the parade in my hometown. Not because I didn't want to, but because I had better things to do and didn't really feel like going... and it's the day I usually go to get my hair cut. The first two years I missed it was because I was in it. Nobody hired me to be in it; I was too young to put fires out with anything but my 'wee-wee', and too cute, on top of having way too much going for me to be in the boy scouts, - It was a freelance thing. It was also the period in which I thought I was the best thing in the parade. I would ride my bike in and out doing faux wheelies and pop-a-wheelies, bunny hops, and things I made up that looked like epileptic fits on two wheels--Incidentally referred to as the "Danger Shakes"! I thought I was the shit. It turns out I was more than just 'the shit', I was absolutely fucking awesome. As a matter of fact, judging by what I seen this past memorial day, I was the best damn thing to hold up traffic in my hometown since the naked, sock sniffing maniac who inhabited the woods near Main Street back in '95. If I had known how interesting my poorly choreographed seizure on a Huffy was, I really would have worked on my act.

After witnessing this mockery of a parade, I thought it a good idea to speak with the "event coordinator", who, I was informed, doubled as the night shift 7-11 clerk, about embellishing next years parade with--me. Not so surprisingly, he remembered me saying, "Those were the best years for the parade, I remember when you stole that old woman's sock right off her foot, taped it to your face, and then mooned the boy scouts- hahahahaha!" I told him he was mistaken, I was the other interesting guy in the parade on the bike. "Oh - I remember now, my wife always feel bad for you. She say you like bird with broken wing." Leave it to an indian to wax poetic while simultaneously mock you. Knowing full well that, unless you want a slurpy, or someone to build you a web page, you don't consult an indian. I continued trying to get on next years roster. I wanted my ten minutes of fame. Because my charm doesn't require a passport it wasn't at all suprising that he said I can ride in next years parade if I can locate the sock sniffer and get him to be in it, too. sonofabitch.

Time does funny things to...well, things. I located the sock sniffer in a federal prison not long after my meeting with the indian guy. Mr. Fanning, a.k.a. snock sniffer, a.k.a. sock sniffer (try saying sock sniffer 5-times-fast), is locked up for an undetermined length of time for unpaid parking tickets... Fuck it! Watching traffic is better than being stuck in it. Leave the parade the way it is. Besides, it deserves to suck if they're going to try and cut expense and have an indian plan a memorial day parade. Unless they're going to broadcast it over the internet.

The biggest tragedy of all this was not the parade, not the fact that I wouldn't ride again in the parade, but it was finding out that a naked guy who sniffs socks was infinitely more interesting than I was.

This blog would have never taken place if they simply would have spent the extra ten dollars on a float that said: THE END!