LONGWALKABOUT

I am a vegetarian.  Wait.  Don’t stop reading. I’m not going to try to convince you to be one too.  I couldn’t care less what you eat.  And while it’s true that I’ll probably outlive you, it’s not because of my diet.  It’s because I’m really good at remembering to look both ways when I cross the street.  That,,, and the fact that I have vowed to stay away from methamphetamines.  I just point out that I’m a vegetarian because it is one of the things that make me the odd man out in my own house. The other reason I wanted to point it out is so I could answer one question that I get ALL THE TIME.  I meet someone.  Somehow conversation gets to the fact that I’m vegetarian.  Then, the inevitable question.  “But you eat fish right?”  Well,,,,,, NO.  Last time I checked, they weren’t growing on trees.  And I just checked yesterday, so my information is pretty current.  The term “fish farming” has nothing to do with plants.  Ok.  Got that out of my system.

Yes, my existence at home is a solitary one.

• My youngest son is left-handed, and his diet consists of four things.  Strawberries, scrambled eggs, Eggo waffles, and chicken in various forms.  Wings, tenders, barbecue, and most importantly, Trader Joes chicken chile verde burritos.  I would just like to point out that he is aware that fish is meat.
• My oldest son has a widely varied diet.  It is so widely varied that sometimes I think he watches Animal Planet to get new menu ideas.  We went to a restaurant while on vacation last year and he ordered a whole fish.  (Yes, he was aware that it was meat) When they brought it out from the kitchen, his face was the happiest I’d seen it in two months.  He is also left-handed.
• My left-handed wife is also not vegetarian.  She loves fish and chips.  One of her favorite meals actually.  I always tell her that she was forty years old when she was born, so I’m pretty sure she has always known that fish is meat.  Just to clarify. When I say that she was born forty, I mean that as a four year old she was probably bothering her father about what his five year plan was.  He was probably like, “Will you chill out?  I just asked if you wanted to go to McDonalds.”
• The dog is obviously not a vegetarian.  Not sure if he’s left-pawed or not.  He can be kind of a jerk sometimes.  I’m going to go ahead and assume that he has no idea that fish is meat.  I mean, he eats napkins, bugs, grass, carrots, nectarines……. We got him at an adoption event so I’m not totally sure of his breed.  Sometimes I think he’s half golden retriever half goat.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat a grilled cheese, while I watch family pull apart a barbecued chicken.  Barbarians.

I love live music.  Pretty much any live music.

When attended correctly, concerts can be a drink from the fountain of youth.  Look at that picture of me.  I’m actually 118 years old.  My secret?  Good live music, coffee, and following sports teams that actually win.  Today, I’m going to break down how to stay young by going to concerts. There is a method to the madness.

1. Go To High Energy Shows.  It’s like a recharging a battery.  One show can energize you for up to six months.  Personally I prefer rock shows.  The louder the better.  You should be able to feel the drums and bass in your chest.  It is a psuedo-scientifically proven fact that this sonic energy transfers into your cells and, “shakes off the rust.”
2. Don’t Go See Aging Artists.  I told my wife this and she said, “Wow, that’s kind of ageist of you.”  It’s not.  Remember, we’re talking about how live music can keep you young.  There is nothing wrong with going to see, I don’t know, let’s say, The Rolling Stones (except that they are vastly overrated). That show won’t keep you young though. That show will remind you that you are getting older.  Those guys look mummified.  Keep up with new artists.  They didn’t stop making good music when you got out of high school.  Going to see new artists enables you to absorb the energy that only youth can produce.  So, let’s review, Aerosmith= great for nostalgia.  Arctic Monkeys= will keep you young.
3. Most Important Rule.  Go See Artists Where The Crowd Will Be Young. Sounds a little creepy when I read it back.  I’m not talking Justin Bieber young.  I’m thinking more college age.  Younger show crowds are more into the music.  They are also less likely to break a hip when stage diving and much less likely to start telling you about their medical ailments in between sets.  The crowd is approximately 47.233% of your concert going experience.  For it to be considered a legendary show, the crowd itself must be legendary. A good concert crowd contains more energy than two, possibly three, of those ridiculous California solar farms.  You know, the ones that incinerate all the birds that fly by.  When attending a show with a younger crowd, you should absorb their energy.  Kind of like a vampire, except you get to go out in the daylight.  (Unless you have red hair.  For you gingers, I would still recommend at least an SPF 30 before going out in full sun).  Absorb all of that energy being provided by young adults that don’t have the emotional inhibitions that full on adulthood saddles so many people with.  Sing along.  Maybe do some crowd surfing.  Get down in the pit.  Don’t let it bother you when someone turns to their friend and says, “Who’s the creepy old guy?”

By applying these three simple criteria when attending concerts (and drinking lots of coffee, and not being a Cleveland Browns fan) you can stay young pretty much indefinitely.  One other thing.  DON’T GO SEE PHISH.  Word on the street is that it will quite literally take ten years off of your life.

 

 

The kids are back in school.  With that, you should see my literary output increase.

Before we unleashed them on their 2nd and 6th grade teachers respectively, we all sat down as a family and watched Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.  Why? Because you should always send your kids back to school with fresh kung fu moves to try out on the rest of the student body.

That’s where the title of this post came from.  It has nothing to do with kung fu, (I kind of wish it did) but I’ve still got that movie on my mind, so there you go.

As you know, if you read my last post, my wife and I just returned from a trip to Italy.  I’d like to share one more story from the trip before I move on to other things like, “Why Live Music Will Keep You Young”, and, “The Top Five James Bond Movies”, and, “Why Does My Seven Year Old Take Longer Getting Out Of The Car Than His Great Grandmother?”

As part of our trip, we took a break from driving on Italian highways, also known as the chariot race scene from Ben Hur, and visited the Basilica of St. Francis in Assisi.  Upon arrival, I used the time honored tourist technique of “when you’re not sure where you are, follow the crowd.”  We ended up in a line to see the tomb of St. Francis himself.  The line wound in through the lower basilica and down into the crypt.  The basilica was full of signs reminding all of us to be quiet.  To enforce all of this quietude, there was a friar in a booth that would come on the PA system every once in a while and say “Silencio, SSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”  I know, it was as amusing as it sounds.

Eventually we made it down the stairs and into the crypt.  Because I am an Adventist not Catholic, my interest in being there was really more in the historical area.  But it was a surprisingly moving experience for me.  Mixed in with the tourists, were people for whom this was a pilgrimage.  People who brought with them hopes, dreams, and troubles to lay at the tomb of St. Francis.  Their emotion was palpable and it lent a reverence to a place that already had a special feeling.

Just like in the rooms above, there were signs everywhere reminding us to be quiet.  EVERYWHERE.  Behind us in line was a woman who would Just, Not, Shut, UP.  On and on she went.  Ironically she was yapping to her traveling companions about how people have no respect.  However, she wasn’t the only one ignoring the signage.  This continued talking finally angered one of the friars.  I’m not real familiar with friars, but I assume it takes a lot to anger one.  He proceeded to stand next to the tomb and give the most angry hushed lecture on respect that I have ever seen.  In my house lectures on respect are rarely hushed.  If I was a totally indecent person, this would have made me giggle uncontrollably.  Almost directly afterwards, the lady in line behind us (yes, the same one who was very concerned about respect) said, “Wait, whose tomb is this?”  Ugh.

After our time in the crypt, we exited the building into a courtyard and the bright Italian sunshine.  When we first arrived at the basilica and I learned that entrance was free, I turned to my wife and said, “Betcha there is a gift shop.”  She said no.  I said, “You watch, the Catholics are much better at this making money for God stuff than us Adventists.”  Guess what was right near the exit of both the upper and lower basilicas.  Well played Catholics, well played.  This got me thinking that we Seventh-Day-Adventists could use some saints.  We’re missing some great marketing opportunities.  Saint Desmond Doss?  Saint Ben Carson?  Saint Brian McKnight?  Saint Busta Rhymes?  (Ok, so he’s a former Adventist)  I see it now.  A gift shop at every church where we sell Adventist saint gear.  Books, Christmas ornaments, magnets, decorative prints, shot errrrrrr communion glasses, oh, and gluten based meat substitutes.

 

I know.  It’s been a while.  I’m sorry to have let my 15 readers hang for so long.  Everyone must have been like.

“What happened?”

“Is he dead?”

“Is he on the run from the law?”

“Is he trapped in a public restroom stall because he doesn’t want to touch the door handle?”

Truth is, I was on vacation.  And before that I was feeling less than inspired.  Now everybody’s like.

“Wait, this nonsense requires inspiration?’

Well, not really.  Okay, maybe a little.

ON TO THE STORY

My wife has always wanted to visit Italy.  So this spring we finally decided that we were going to do it.  Three days in Tuscany, Five days in Umbria.  Art, sunshine, food, medieval towns, and food.  I could go on and on about lots of things from this trip, but I have chosen to tell one story.  A story that will live in infamy.  A story that I will remind my wife of when we are old.

The city pictured at the top of this post is Todi, which is located in Umbria.  It is really old, picturesque, and, obviously, located on the top of a hill.  There are several ways to get to the top of this hill. 1-Park near the left side of the photo, and take a gazillion stairs to the 7th century church that looks over the city.  2-Park near the right side of the photo and walk up the gradual slope all the way to the top.  3-Park around the back side of the hill on the left side of the photo and take a small mechanized incline directly to the top.

We had taken the stairs on our first visit to the city, but because I wasn’t sure about the parking situation on the weekend, and I was curious about the incline, I decided to give it a go.  I parked the car and we walked to the small station where the incline would stop to pick us up.  The incline car turned out to be basically an 8×8 glass box that as many people as humanly possible would crowd into before it ascended into the town.  I wasn’t discouraged.  When we got into the line of about twenty people the the doors of the car were just closing.  We watched as it rose away from us.  Then we watched as more people showed up and started to move into line ahead of us.  Turns out Europeans aren’t big on waiting in lines.  They cut more lines than Dwight Gooden, if you know what I mean.  As an American, this offends my sensibilities.  I mean, that kind of thing can get you kicked out of Great Adventure.  Anyway, five minutes later the car car returned.  It filled up again, without us, and left.  I started to jockey for a position to ensure us a spot on the next ride up.  Then,,,,,,,, my wife threw me a curveball.

“I’m not riding on that thing.”

“But.”

“I don’t want to wait another fifteen minutes, and then have to cram myself in there with 20+ people.”

“But, it’s only like five minutes.”

“Yeah right, isn’t there another way up?”

“But,,,,, we’re right here.”

“I AM NOT RIDING THAT THING.”

And,,,,,,,,,, she took off.  And we walked.  And we walked.  She was so determined.  She was so angry.  She had wanted to take the stairs anyway, and I guess this was my fault.  Medieval cities were built with walls surrounding them so that they would be easy to defend.  If we wanted to get into the city we’d have to find one of the old gates.  Like the Israelites at Jericho, we marched around the city walls of Todi.  Me- confused and annoyed.  My wife- apparently just annoyed.  All the way around we went.  From the left side of that photo, to the right.  I know, you may say, “That’s all.  That’s not so bad.”  Well,,,,, then we entered the gates in the city wall and walked back all the way from the right side of the photo to the left.  Did I mention that my wife was determined?  She did not slow down until we reached an old Roman fountain that was more of a trickle than a fountain, and was more full of pigeon poop than water.  Because there were signs guiding people to this “attraction”, we both found this sufficiently amusing to break the tension.  Then we had lunch.  Pizza.  And,,,,,,,,,, wait for it,,,,,,,,,,we rode the incline back to our car (though she was still reluctant).

Now this is the situation that I will use as a benchmark for all other ridiculous situations. Example.

“Isn’t this election season ridiculous?”

“Well, it’s not walking around Todi ridiculous.”

 

PS: Prayers for those affected by the recent earthquakes in Italy.

 

 

Sometimes I like to think about really important things.  For instance, the other day I was wondering why people keep poisonous snakes as pets.  It’s not like snake charmer is a reasonable career choice anymore.  I came to the conclusion that they always want to have a good way to murder their significant other.

Cops:  Your partner was bitten by that black mamba you keep in the family room.  Didn’t you just take out a large insurance       policy?

Person:  What a horrible coincidence.  When they make out the check, remember to tell them that my name is spelled with two R’s.

Enough about snakes.  What I really want to talk about today is my most recent deep thought. Is breakfast really the most important meal of the day?  For years you’ve heard the propaganda.  Gotta get a good start.  Remember your breakfast.  Have an egg, they’re incredible and edible.  Don’t forget to have some milk in that bowl of cereal.  I have to be honest, I just had coffee for breakfast today and I felt pretty good.  Added to that, I enjoy other meals much more than breakfast.  Lunch and dinner are a smorgasbord of diverse tastes.

Where does this propaganda come from?  I think that it all goes back to some kind of shady Milk and Egg Mafia.  Back in the day, the milk and eggs got together in a smoky room at an out of the way dairy farm and had a meeting.  This is how it went.

Eggs:  I call this meeting to order.  We are here to discuss how we are being left out of two of the three meals each day.

Milk:  I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and I see no clear path for us to weasel our way into lunch and dinner.  That is, unless you see quiche as a viable option.

Eggs:  Look, we’re in quiche and we don’t see it as a viable option.

Milk:  It’s settled then.  We’re going to focus on our wheelhouse.  BREAKFAST.  I propose a complete hostile takeover of that one meal.

Eggs:  Genious!

Milk:  If we’re going to focus on one meal, we’ll need an aggressive propagaaaa,,, I mean, advertising campaign.

Eggs:  No problem.  I know a guy who convinced a bunch of people to buy pet rocks.

Milk:  Sounds perfect.  Maybe he could sell breakfast as the “most important meal of the day” and tell people that they can’t afford to go without it.

Eggs:  Other groups are going to want to get in on this.  I know sausage and bacon are also feeling a little left out.

Milk:  For a small fee, I think we can work something out.  But they’ll never be allowed to be served by themselves.  They always must be accompanied by you guys.

Eggs:  Agreed.  The same goes for the cereal.  Absolutely NO cereal without MILK.

Milk:  Our lawyers are also going to have to deal with orange juice, fruit, and syrup.

Eggs:  Yeah, but that should be easy.  I mean really, what other meal are they going to go to.  MWAH HAHAHA.

Milk:  The one thing I’m gonna have to watch out for is milk impostors.  Almond, rice, coconut, anything will call itself milk these days.  If they become too much of a problem I’ll have to send butter after them.  Butter is ruthless.

Eggs:  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Milk:  BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

It’s not that I don’t like breakfast, I do, but I love the options the other two meals give me.  That makes them the Most Important Meals of the day.  Like Oscar Wilde said, “Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast.”  Let’s go get some burritos.

PS:  Ironically at the time of this writing, bacon has weaseled its way into every meal, including dessert.

 

I live near Philadelphia. A few weeks from now the city will be graced with the presence of the Democratic Convention. Of course, I am using the word grace loosely. Politics is an awful business. If I asked my kids what they wanted to do when they grew up, and one of them said they wanted to be a congressman, I’d immediately put them in timeout. Since it appears to be too late to move the convention to a different city, I think I will use it as a teaching experience. We are going to learn some hands on lessons about politics.

I think that we’ll start out with a good old-fashioned protest. Grievance culture has kept the protest alive and well. There are so many straw man protests that we could choose from, but we’re going to think outside the box. We’re going to protest for laws that already exist. Example. Women’s right to vote. Picture two boys, ages six and eleven, and their father (we’ll just say he’s in his late thirties) on a street corner outside the convention hall with signs proclaiming that women should be allowed to vote. Then, (and this is the payoff) whenever someone stops to inform us that women have been able to vote since 1920, we’ll act surprised. I’ll turn to my boys and loudly say that things have definitely gotten worse since 1920, so maybe the whole women voting thing wasn’t such a great idea.  (Before someone decides to protest me, I would like to point out that this is obviously a joke.  And if you didn’t realize that, we will consider removing your right to vote.)

After our protest, we will move on to a lobbying lesson. All of us will dress in three-piece suits and track down a member of congress. Shouldn’t be hard. We hope to find one that is slightly inebriated. Again, shouldn’t be hard. Since this is the democratic convention, we’ll claim to be lobbyists from some green energy battery maker. In our meeting we will explain that our batteries are better than anyone else’s, and that we need taxpayer money to build a plant in the congressman’s state. When they appear noncommittal to our venture, we will explain how some of that taxpayer money could end up in a numbered account in the Caymans. Voila, lobbying lesson complete.

There is so much to learn from politicians.

How to make promises you never intend on keeping.

How to answer questions.  Could be very useful at school.

Teacher:  “Why haven’t you finished your project?”

Student:  “That is a fantastic question Debbie.  Can I call you Debbie?   I think we can trace this particular problem back to the definition of the word ‘project’.  The issue seems to arise from the fact that we each have different understandings of this word.  I’m sure we can work this out, and in the end you will understand that you are more at fault.  I suppose that I will have to check with a member of my staff and get back to you.  I hope I can count on your support in November.”  (Big empty smile)

How to start unnecessary wars.

How to install an email server in your extra bathroom.

How to be the third member of your family to run for president and then blow a 100 million dollars without winning a single primary.

How to take multiple large donations from Wall Street firms, and then campaign against them.

How to vote for the lesser of two evils.

By the time I am done with my lesson plan, my kids will never want to be involved in politics.  Which, of course, is the whole lesson.

 

 

 

 

Many things will be written about freedom and independence today.  I decided that one more piece would be too many.  Instead, I have decided to bring you highlights in the list of inventions that resulted from said freedom and independence.  Without further adieu,

THE FRUITS OF FREEDOM

• The coffee percolator-  This invention is significant to me personally.  My mornings would not be the same without a percolator.  Now that I mention it, neither would my afternoons and evenings, and sometimes mid-mornings, once in a while my right after lunches, and from time to time my late nights.
• The Dustpan-  I am shocked that everyone waited for us to come up with this one.  It does kind of explain why it took so long for Europe to get rid of the plague though.  I mean, what were they doing, sweeping all of the dirt into the room of their least favorite child?  They weren’t vacuuming, because we invented that in 1860.
• The Vibrator-  You know, for relieving tight, sore muscles.
• Ice Cream Soda-  When I am elected president, root beer floats will be handed out at the end of every naturalization ceremony.
• The Popcorn Machine-  In a happy coincidence, this came along right about the time that motion pictures were invented.  Still no word on whose idea it was to charge eight dollars for a bucket of popcorn at the theater.
• The Mousetrap-  Another thing that would have been helpful around the time of the plague.  Dustpans and mousetraps and we could have nipped that thing in the bud.
• Candy Corn-  We’re sorry.  So sorry.  They can’t all be winners.
• The Airplane-  As far as inventions go, it’s kind of a biggie.
• The Traffic Cone-  Down the street from me live some people that have two traffic cones blocking the end of their driveway so that no one can turn around there.  When those cones are allegedly stolen at roughly the same time I move to the Caribbean, it will be entirely coincidental.
• Deodorant-  Believe it or not, there are some people that still refuse to take advantage of this life changing invention.  Also, believe it or not, some of those people have significant others.
• American Football-  Because no sport should be tied at zero after ninety minutes.
• The Electric Guitar-  A crucial invention that along with Ozzy, helped elevate music as an art form.
• Tupperware-  An ingenious place to keep food.  Never mind that most of this food will eventually go bad and two months later we will remove it from the fridge and spend five minutes trying to figure out what it is before we reluctantly open the container.
• The Zamboni-  I know, you thought it was from Canada.  Nope.  California baby.
• Weather Satellite-  This invention has been crucial to occupying the time of our older generations.  Now they can watch the five o clock news and immediately afterward call all of their sons and daughters to warn them that there is a fifty percent chance of rain next Tuesday.
• The Child Safety Seat-  Because apparently no country cared about children until,,,,,, Merica.
• Buffalo Wings-  Something to eat while we watch American football teams score points.
• ME-  

My favorite thing about summer is swimming.  I love the water, always have.  The local Y has an indoor pool, so we can swim year round, but going from the door of the building to the car after swimming during winter (also known as the devil’s season) is a completely horrible experience.  Summer swimming is the best.

This summer, the boys and I plan to swim in every type of body of water.  Creek, river, lake, ocean, and pool.   Last summer we never made it to a river or lake.  This year we will aggressively seek to rectify that violation.

Creek-  Thanks to swimmingholes.org, I’ve found a nearby creek with a great place to swim.  As an added bonus, it has a rope swing.  And it’s all perfectly safe, as long as you don’t hit a rock, or as long as the rope doesn’t break, or as long as the limb that the rope is tied to doesn’t break.  Perfectly safe.  We went to this spot last year and some hippie guy showed up, sat on a rock, and played the flute.  Not only was it kind of weird, he refused to play Free Bird on request.

River-  River swimming can be dicy with little guys.  I am planning on combining the river experience with kayaking and life jackets.  A float trip will do the family good.

Lake-  We have a local state park that includes a 1400 acre lake.  A lot of people boat and fish there, but strangely, swimming is “not allowed”.  This is strange to me.  What do you mean by no swimming?  The only time swimming is not allowed in a lake is when it’s too cold.  That brings me to an observation. What is the point of all of those beautiful Canadian lakes.  Seems like a waste of water if the only thing willing to get in is a grizzly bear. When I get to heaven I plan on walking right up to God and saying, “I have a few questions. First, why would you put perfectly swimmable bodies of water in cold climates? Second, what’s up with mosquitoes?  Third, how many times did my guardian angel save my life. I’ve got the line set at 150, and I’m taking the over.”  Anyway, we plan on getting around the no swimming rule by using the old, “I fell out of the kayak” trick.

Ocean-  It looks like we’ll be swimming at the Jersey shore this year.  When we aren’t in the water trying to guess what we just stepped on, we’ll be enjoying local activities like playing homemade Syringe Lawn Darts, and trying to find the most offensive t-shirt on the boardwalk.

Pool-  Summer provides many pool swimming opportunities.  My kids are always quick to jump at these.  Unless it’s at the Y.  My six year old is down with it, but his eleven year old brother is convinced that the pool there is dirty.  “C’mon dad, the water’s not totally clear and I got someone else’s hair on me last time.”  To which I reply, “I’ll grant you that it’s a little strange to get other peoples hair stuck on you, but I did find you biting your toenails the other night, so in the cleanliness department, you have bigger problems.”

Yes, we will complete the quintfecta of swimming this summer.  And then when the leaves start to turn and everything in the supermarket is suddenly flavored with pumpkin spice, we will get sad, very sad.

 

 

I am a Pittsburgh sports fan.  This is a birthright that has been handed down to my kids.  I have pictures of both of them when they were newborns and still in the hospital, wrapped in Terrible Towels.  Once in a while I remind them, “Remember kids, you are American by birth, and Pittsburgh sports fans by the grace of God.”  Since 2005 we have been lucky enough to witness four major sports championships.  Each championship is followed by the obligatory parade.  I’ve attended two.  The Steelers 2009 parade, and the one for the Penguins this past week.  I dragged my two bestest buddies along with me to the Penguins parade. (My 6 and 11 year old boys.)  Now that I have some experience with these events, I’ve decided to put together a helpful list of some things you can expect when going to a victory parade.

Police-  There will be a heavy police presence.  Some of them you’ll see.  Some of them you won’t.  That’s right, there’ll be undercover cops, just like 21 Jump Street,,,,,,, except it’s not a high school, their headquarters most likely won’t be an abandoned church, and Johnny Depp will be too busy smacking Amber Heard around to show up.  (ALLEGEDLY)  I appreciate the heightened presence.  At this most recent parade I was a first hand witness to lots of police activity.

1.  I saw an officer pick up litter in the street.

2.  I saw an officer drop litter in the street.  He was trying to be slick, but I saw it.  After a quick contemplation of hopping the barrier and performing a citizen’s arrest, I decided to let it slide.

3.  An officer helped a woman cross the street.

4.  Two officers put the stop to a grimy looking guy with an open container of alcohol.

5.  The aforementioned undercover officers busted an unlicensed guy selling pennants.  Thank goodness we didn’t have to be exposed to the horror of unlicensed pennants.

An overall good job by Pittsburgh’s finest.

Drunk People-  Most of the drunk people will be watching the parade.  Some of the drunk people will be in the parade.  If you are taking your kids, I recommend not standing too close to the end of the route.  Some of the people at the end of the route will have been there since early in the morning, maybe the night before.  They will most likely have been drinking since sometime before that.  Lets follow a simple logic train.  1- A person drinks a lot.  2- That person stands in one place for hours.  3-  Eventually a crowd forms behind that person, and they can’t leave their spot.  4-  That person must relieve him or herself desperately.  5-  Oh no, I think the person behind me is peeing into a beer can (True Story).  Glad my kids weren’t there for that one.  Just pick a place somewhere in the middle of the parade route.  The drunks will be better behaved there.

The Mayor-  Yes, the mayor of the city will definitely show up.  Why?  Who knows.  I just assume it’s because politicians are miserable attention hogs.

Players With Cameras-  This is one of the rare events in sports where the players are taking pictures of fans who are taking pictures of them.  It’s a little weird if we’re gonna be honest.  I totally get it though.  For both the players and the fans, this is something that doesn’t happen very often.  It’s something everyone wants to remember.  I kind of get a kick out of the fact that my kids and I are on Phil Kessel’s parade video.  Someday he’ll power up his computer at home and watch his footage to relive the experience, while at the same time, many miles away, I will be saying to my wife for the 75th time, “Hey honey look at this great shot of Kessel taking a video.”

The Trophy-  Some player, usually the team captain, will be in the last parade car holding the championship trophy.  It’s cool.  It’s really cool.  I have to say that of all the trophies in sports, the Stanley Cup is the coolest.  If you’re lucky, one of the players will bring it close enough for you to touch.

Impromptu Speeches-  At the end of the parade route many of the players will go up to the microphone on the stage and say a few words of appreciation for the fans and their teammates.  I can promise you that none of these speeches will be eloquent.  Some of them may be downright indecipherable.

In summary.  Sports victory parades are unique experiences.  They are slightly disorganized, exciting, and unpredictable (your favorite player may just jump into the crowd right next to you).  If your team ever wins a championship, I recommend taking the day off and celebrating it with three or four hundred thousand of your closest friends.  Years later when you watch the commemorative video of that championship, you can tell your kids, “I was at the parade.  Troy Polamalu jumped into the crowd right next to me.  I grabbed his leg.  Oh yeah.  And there were two guys standing right behind me peeing in beer cans.”  Then you can drag them to the next one.

If you read this with any regularity, you’ll know that my wife and I recently visited New Orleans.  (My new favorite American city) On our last night in town, we went to a jazz club to hear the Rebirth Brass Band play.  The place had been recommended to me by a talkative visitor’s center employee who informed me that it would be “hot, sweaty, packed, and loud.”  I took that exact quote and repeated it to my wife.  She didn’t hear that.  She heard, “candle-lit tables, spaced an appropriate distance apart, with waiters and a nice jazz band.”  We ended up standing behind two drunk college guys for the first set of the show, and then we called it a night.  It’s too bad, the band was great.

One of the things that sticks with me most about that night was a girl who was standing in front of us in the line to get into the club.  It’s not really the girl that I remember, it’s her tattoo.  On one of her shoulders she had a large portrait tattoo that was really quite well done.  People do this from time to time to commemorate a lost loved one.  I’ve seen the faces of parents, children, maybe significant others, all memorialized in ink.  This is the first time I’ve seen Charles Darwin’s face staring back at me from someone’s shoulder.  I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that not even any of Darwin’s descendants actually have a Charles Darwin tattoo.  I’m gonna climb even further out on that limb and say that this may be the only Darwin tattoo in the entire world. Look, you can do whatever you want with your body, but as Isaac Newton famously figured out, “for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”  Yes, it’s the Third Law of Physics, but it applies to social situations as well.  I can imagine her parents equal and opposite reaction.  It goes like this.

Girl:  I got this tattoo as an expression of my love for science and also to make a social statement about how I reject religion, but embrace evolutionary theory with religious fervor.

Dad:  That’s great honey, good to know that money we sent you went to important things like feeding and clothing you,,,,,,, and tattoos.

Girl leaves room.

Mom:  Why couldn’t she just get dolphins on her ankle, or a pixie, or a butterfly, or a tramp stamp?

Dad:  Why couldn’t she have gone to a bad tattoo artist, then we could have told everyone that it was actually Benjamin Franklin, and that she was just really patriotic.

Mom:  What are we going to tell her grandmother?

Dad:  I’m sorry, what did you say?  I was just over here setting up this savings account online and naming it
“Tattoo Removal.”

Mom:  I guess she’s not wearing a sleeveless dress to the Easter Service this year.

Dad:  Can you imagine what kind of boyfriend she’ll bring home for Thanksgiving?  You don’t attract normal guys with stuff like that.  It’s going to be some nightmare like this.

Dad:  Hi, welcome to our house, Happy Thanksgiving.

Boyfriend:  Thank you for having me,  I’d like you to know right off the bat that I’m extremely allergic to nuts, I am against all forms of violence, and I don’t believe that people have the right to own pets.

Dad:  Great.

Dad:  So, where are you from?

Boyfriend:  I was born and raised in Michigan.

Dad:  You must be looking forward to the Lions game today.

Boyfriend:  I only watch Association Football.

Dad:  You mean soccer?

Boyfriend:  Yes, the true football.

Dad:  Great.

Dad:  Well, anyway, we’ll be serving Thanksgiving Dinner soon.

Boyfriend:  It’s a shame that what I’m sure will be a delicious meal, is going to be served on a day that celebrates the beginning of the theft of this land from indigenous peoples.

Dad:  Would you like some peanut brittle?

So their you have it.  An imagined conversation in which the imagined people have another imagined conversation.  All because of a girl with a Darwin tattoo.  I’m just glad that the other shoulder is free so she can get a tattoo of Harambe the gorilla, 1999-2016, Gone Too Soon. Her poor parents.