The Passing Parade: Cheap Shots from a Drive By Mind

"...difficile est saturam non scribere. Nam quis iniquae tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus, ut teneat se..." " is hard not to write Satire. For who is so tolerant of the unjust City, so steeled, that he can restrain himself... Juvenal, The Satires (1.30-32)

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

AND NOW, A WORD FROM OUR PROPRIETOR: First of all, I would like to thank the American pharmaceutical industry for their production runs of various and sundry antiviral medications. Antivirals are a wonderful thing, especially when you are breeding viruses like the damn things are going out of style and you really want them to go out into the great big world and get real jobs, especially jobs that do not require anyone to be flat on their back for most of the day wondering why God doesn’t like them anymore. So yes, I am feeling much better now, thank you all very much.

Secondly, I would like to thank the American media for turning President Obama’s historic inauguration into the aural version of root canal work, minus that nice pina colada tasting anesthetic the dentist gives you nowadays. Most of the commentators and bloviating pundits did their best to sound like lousy sportscasters, pounding the significance of the day into my poor ill skull over and over again until I wanted to scream with agony. In my desperate search for relief, I finally alighted on C-Span, where the proceedings came to the commentary addled viewer both live and in living color, a cultural reference only the people over forty here will actually understand, and sans the constant blather of people in love with the sound of their own voices.

As I sat watching the steady stream of people march past our new President, I wondered just why it is that we the people need to subject our new presidents to a seemingly endless parade of cacophonous kitsch, and I also wish to report that the growing Hispanization of this our Great Republic will yield one great positive result…well, two, after lots of great looking babes in tight dresses and high heels—the music in inaugural parades will improve exponentially with the large scale addition of mariachi bands to the mix, although, the truth be told, adding a squadron of drunken cross-dressing malarial chimpanzees with shotguns, kazoos, and broken beer bottles to the mix would improve the musical quality of your average high school marching band just as well. The shotguns would also do wonders for removing the musically untalented from the gene pool, but I suspect that counts as an unintended consequence.

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