I Love A Parade (But That Wasn't One)
It's appalling what some people will call a parade. What, two floats that looked like ass and didn't even throw anything? They could have had awesome long beads with flashing Bill of Rights medallions, Obama doubloons, plush Baracks, Michelles, Sashas and Malias ... big beautiful floats with Henri Schindler tropical-blossom fantasies or Blaine Kern glitz and glamour. Butterflies of winter. Such untapped potential, such fun the new First Family missed out on.
Desiree Glapion Rogers, native New Orleanian, two-time Zulu Queen, my adopted cousin Harry's cousin, and now White House Social Secretary was sighted in the royal box on MSNBC. She didn't look too thrilled with the parade either.
We don't have much here in the banana republic of New Orleans, so when we visit the mighty cities of Dallas or Florence and see the thin trickles of water that flow through them, we get a kick out of saying, "You call that a river?" We snicker at hardy northern peoples who think they are having a heat wave any time the mercury hits 80. We sneer at Pacific Northwestern "Mardi Gras" celebrations that destroy entire downtowns. And we turn up our noses, just a bit, at the bleak little inaugural parade. Don't get me wrong; a good military band is an important part of almost any parade, but you need variety and gorgeousness for a truly great one. We could have put on such a show for them. And not one of those bands was a patch on the St. Augustine Purple Knights.
Bumping up eBay auctions, because I think the two newly listed blank books got a little lost in the inaugural flurry. Even down here in the forgotten third-world protectorate, I have to admit it was pretty exciting.
Desiree Glapion Rogers, native New Orleanian, two-time Zulu Queen, my adopted cousin Harry's cousin, and now White House Social Secretary was sighted in the royal box on MSNBC. She didn't look too thrilled with the parade either.
We don't have much here in the banana republic of New Orleans, so when we visit the mighty cities of Dallas or Florence and see the thin trickles of water that flow through them, we get a kick out of saying, "You call that a river?" We snicker at hardy northern peoples who think they are having a heat wave any time the mercury hits 80. We sneer at Pacific Northwestern "Mardi Gras" celebrations that destroy entire downtowns. And we turn up our noses, just a bit, at the bleak little inaugural parade. Don't get me wrong; a good military band is an important part of almost any parade, but you need variety and gorgeousness for a truly great one. We could have put on such a show for them. And not one of those bands was a patch on the St. Augustine Purple Knights.
Bumping up eBay auctions, because I think the two newly listed blank books got a little lost in the inaugural flurry. Even down here in the forgotten third-world protectorate, I have to admit it was pretty exciting.