28 Jan

Parades are odd creatures. A thousand feet marching in unison, each person clearly assigned to their grouop. Uniforms. Movements. Soldiers marching and smiling. A parade queen with a big lipsticked grin. Toilet paper floats. Clowns who cannot change their expressions.

And the people watching. Standing, waiting for the next thing to come. Marching band songs come from the distance, raise to an ear ringing blare and fade back again. Drums. Salutes. Children weaving around the legs of adults. Balloons by the bushel. Waving. People getting excited at seeing someone they know.

A drum majorette kicks her heels up. Baton twirlers and pom pom girls. A big Clydesdale pulling a truck full of firemen. A dalmation.

And where are the book readers? The philosophers? The artists? Who chooses the members of this parade? Why does the audience cheer?

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