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.