So, yeah. Went and did that whole parade thing. It was a little better than in recent years, but still managed to be just as long and tedious.

I have three specific thoughts, and an irresistible attraction to lists.

1. Whoever plans these things seems to think the community doesn't have enough interesting civic groups to fill out a proper parade, so Independence Day is always an orgy of advertising and "floats" promoting various local businesses. This year saw a new low, and from someone I consider a friend at that.

   Before the "real" parade, there's always a children's parade where little ones ride patriotically-decorated bicycles and what not down the parade route. It's cute, and it lets kids feel special and feel like they're part of some big event. Catch that? It's for the kids, dammit.

   Richie the broker doesn't seem to understand that. He was helping a child I can only assume was his son. The boy pedaled his way down the street on his little training wheeled two-wheeler under his father's watchful eye. That part was cute. What was not so cute was what they were towing behind that bike - a little wagon bearing signs reading "Ask my daddy about saving for college!" with the name of his brokerage.

   It's supposed to be about your kid, Richie, you whore.

2. Between the children's parade and the regular parade I saw something that began as horrifying, but quickly became hilarious.

   An older man, probably in his middle sixties, brought his lawn chair to within a few feet of me before opening it to take a seat. When he sat, the decrepit old chair fell apart beneath him. It didn't fall apart all at once, like you'd see in an old slapstick movie, but rather in stages. The chair went CRACK CRACK CRACK and in five or six jarring, but short, movements the fellow was flat on back with an expression of confusion and extreme embarrassment on his face.

   The horrifying part was my immediate reaction that "OMG an old guy was killed by his chair!" The hilarious part was my second reaction that "OMG that was fucking funny!"

   I'm glad to see the guy injured only his pride. If he'd howled about a broken hip or something, I would have felt bad about my schadenfreude. I still would have snickered, but I wouldn't have enjoyed it as much.

3. Between The Chicken and me and the broken chair guy were two high school girls. The way they laughed and joked made it obvious they were friends. They didn't stay a duo for long.

   Along came two boys of about the same age. The four of them started chatting away merrily. The conversation quickly dwindled to a threesome as the two boys made obvious their interest in the girl who looked vaguely like Scarlett Johansson.

   The other girl looked like she was feeling awkward, very left out and a little hurt. Her expression bore just a hint of the idea that this was not the first time this had happened.

   But here's the thing… the neglected girl was just as pretty as the ScarJo look-a-like. She just needs a few more years to grow into it. I've seen girls like her so many times. She's a pretty girl right now. In five years she's going to be a 21 year-old knockout who thinks she's ugly.

   I wanted to punch those boys right in the junk, mostly because I saw myself in them. Just like them, I could never see that a rose with petals that have not yet opened is still a beautiful rose. I saw those boys and hated them for how they ignored the invisible girl, and I hated myself for how I ignored all the girls with beauty I could never see.