Parade of delinquency and terror, the sequel

Posted on November 24th, 2010 No comments. The post is really that bad, huh?

I tried to warn my sis. I referred her to last year’s experience. I told her this was no place for impressionable young kids. Did she listen? Did she do the responsible thing and not accept my invitation to the Santa Claus Parade? Am I wallowing in rhetoric just to fill up a few sentences?

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If ever you’ve experienced an aversion to screaming midget hellions accompanied by double-wide-stroller-pushing “adults”, this is the one event that’s guaranteed to permanently damage your brain. Santa becomes Satan so very easily.

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Dante’s little excursion through his so-called “Inferno” was, in comparison, a pleasant bonfire. Which would’ve been nice as this particular circle of hell was damn close to freezing over.

On top of this, imagine thousands of screaming infants, cranky at the excessive gaps in the procession because there were no more clowns to keep them entertained (or because they’d just been entertained by clowns).

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Oh, it wasn’t all TSA-approved body cavity searches. Some of the floats were your standard Christmas parade fare and that’s okay. But even then I noticed a general propensity for using characters that had massive, Japanese Anime-like eyes. Except the Japs’ stylized characters are usually pleasant, if not mildly arousing. The things atop these trailers looked more like Smeagol (a.k.a. Gollum). Preciousssss.

And in bygone days we had corporate sponsors to blame for the declining mirth, now it’s a lineup of what looks like recycled floats with the soft drink logos ripped off. ‘cept they’re not fooling me, I know who these polar bears use to shill for.

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Both my nephews still believe in the fat guy. I blame that irresponsibility on their parents.

Maybe my sis is trying to do some vicarious holidaying; she maintains that I stripped the joy out of Christmas by forcing on her irrefutable evidence that Santa doesn’t exist. Sounds like something I’d do. But listen, the earlier they learn that reindeer don’t fly, rabbits don’t shit chocolate eggs, and that uncle Patrick is really the guy who ponied up for their awesome new PS3 game, the earlier we can all get to enjoying the true meaning of Christmas: alcohol and time off work.

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