Parade
Yesterday was the first day of the rodeo and necessary parade in the small town that is now my home away from home.
The parade was less than three hundred feet from my front door. It only lasted about an hour, so it really wasn’t too bad, just noisy.
This is an excuse for all the prepubescent girls in the area to put on their glittery clothes and dance the “Cotton-Eyed Joe” down the main street of town to the music blasting from the bed of a pickup truck.
The older girls got to ride horses and yell. I heard, “WOOO HOOOO!”, no less than thirty times in 12 minutes. Teenage girls delight in any excuse to yell. The glittery girls want to grow up to become the yelling girls. I harbor secret desires to pick them all off like a postal worker after a bad lunch.
There were the usual marching bands, showing what they have practiced for years, and fighting to keep in time because they can’t hear themselves above the other marching band right behind them.
I don’t believe there are many sounds more ear shattering than two out of tune marching bands trying to out-loud each other. The different songs and tempo create peaks and valleys of conflict. Choreographed car crashes on your front porch would have about the same impact.
I was particularly under-impressed by some marching band’s rendition of “La Cucaracha.” I am not at all thrilled by a song tribute to vermin, even if it doesn’t want to smoke, drink, or travel. Hearing the song performed by a marching band does nothing to improve it to my ear.
The rodeo could be heard quite clearly from the Doghouse, so I had a blow by blow commentary without paying a dime. Too bad I don’t like or even understand rodeo.
All in all it seemed a fun time for all, judging from the smiling faces I watched go by all day. Now I hope it’s all over so I can get some sleep.
The parade was less than three hundred feet from my front door. It only lasted about an hour, so it really wasn’t too bad, just noisy.
This is an excuse for all the prepubescent girls in the area to put on their glittery clothes and dance the “Cotton-Eyed Joe” down the main street of town to the music blasting from the bed of a pickup truck.
The older girls got to ride horses and yell. I heard, “WOOO HOOOO!”, no less than thirty times in 12 minutes. Teenage girls delight in any excuse to yell. The glittery girls want to grow up to become the yelling girls. I harbor secret desires to pick them all off like a postal worker after a bad lunch.
There were the usual marching bands, showing what they have practiced for years, and fighting to keep in time because they can’t hear themselves above the other marching band right behind them.
I don’t believe there are many sounds more ear shattering than two out of tune marching bands trying to out-loud each other. The different songs and tempo create peaks and valleys of conflict. Choreographed car crashes on your front porch would have about the same impact.
I was particularly under-impressed by some marching band’s rendition of “La Cucaracha.” I am not at all thrilled by a song tribute to vermin, even if it doesn’t want to smoke, drink, or travel. Hearing the song performed by a marching band does nothing to improve it to my ear.
The rodeo could be heard quite clearly from the Doghouse, so I had a blow by blow commentary without paying a dime. Too bad I don’t like or even understand rodeo.
All in all it seemed a fun time for all, judging from the smiling faces I watched go by all day. Now I hope it’s all over so I can get some sleep.
posted by MizfiTroll at 6:32 AM
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