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An entry in which I address day-old pop-political stories, start an intra-city civil war, and become an armchair parent. Say what you will about the Bush administration, but at least they have a sense of humor, and a hilarious one at that. They say Newsweek tarnished the United States's image abroad! Ha ha, they're hilarious! It's such understated humor, too, not like that over-the-top crap they're always putting into movies these days where it's all laid out for you. They are the masters of deadpan, it kills me! It's so clever, such delicate irony. But who cares about that, let's talk about Ballard! Today in Ballard we celebrated our Norwegian heritage by dressing up like vikings and valkyries and quaint Norwegian womenfolk and having a parade, a very long parade. We made all of our poor old people walk in the long parade carrying small Norwegian flags that we made them wave around, and everyone shouted "Hurrah!". Near the end of the parade, OR SO YOU'D THINK, ACTUALLY IT WAS VERY IN THE MIDDLE, a woman gave out a feeble "hip hip" but no one hurrahed in answer. Suddenly a girl in all black, clothes full of sexy-but-goth rips and slashes, ran up the street as fast as she could. I think she was the parade entry for Death, but she wasn't carrying a banner so I couldn't tell who she was representing. The parade was so long and there were so many Norwegians trying to poke my eyes out with their tiny flags that I walked up the parade route on my way towards my house. Suddenly a girl ran down the sidewalk as fast as she could, crying whinily. She wasn't in the parade, the parade was on the street, so I don't know what her deal was. Maybe she was chasing after Death, maybe Death just killed her doggy, so maybe Death wasn't part of the parade either. There were plenty of unicycles and drill teams, which we don't have in my hometown parades, and there were no horses or logging trucks, which we do have in my hometown parades. You know, if there's one thing we love in Ballard besides glass and walking our dogs on 40-foot retractible leashes that trip everyone between us and our very-distant canine companion whose shit we are carrying in a plastic grocery bag, it's Ballard. And if there's one thing we hate, besides homeless people and Scream masks, it's Seattle. Yeah Seattle, we hate you! Take that! "Ahem," you might say, "Ballard, it's been like almost an entire century since you were annexed into the city of Seattle. Maybe you should get over it." "Fuck you Seattle!" we'd say back. "Free Ballard!" "Ahem," you might say, "I believe you guys voted for annexation in 1906, you wanted it, now deal with it." "Fuck you Seattle!" we'd say back, "We only did it for the water, and guess what? We don't want your stinking water anymore, we'll make our own! Free Ballard! Hurrah!" Now here is a letter I wrote to the parents of 2 year olds: Dear parents of 2 year olds, Who is in charge, you or your 2 year old? Wait, before you answer that, answer this: who knows more about motorcycle safety, you or your 2 year old? Hopefully the answer you got for those questions is the same. So like, if there's a brigade of motorcycles coming down the street, even if it's for a fun parade!, hopefully you put your darling 2 year old in the sport utility stroller/lifeboat you brought along, rather than let your darling 2 year old totter around on its own in the street. Thank you for your time and consideration. Love, Regina Toowomba
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