The neverending parade

2005-03-12 - 9:14 p.m.

Sometimes I feel like life is one long parade. Every day I get up and put on my uniform, all covered with brightly colored sequins, and run out and get in line. I march along with the throng, twirling my baton and putting on quite a show. I'm pretty good at it, even, my baton shoots flames out both ends and I can toss it way up high and catch it again without dropping it. When that's happening, I'm feeling good and I'm not minding the parade and the crowds. But where there are parades, there are horses, and every once in a while, if I'm not careful, I step in a pile of manure. And if I'm particularly unlucky, I may slip and fall right in it. And then my baton comes spinning afire from above and knocks me right on the head. Even after I've picked myself up and rejoined the march, my uniform is still stained and the crowd still remembers me sitting in a pile of flaming horse shit.