Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

What a fine lunch!

I managed to leave in time to see the tail end of the St. Patrick's day parade that winds up at Linn Park, and even in the breaking-up stage, it's still quite a fascinating study in Celtic culture. As always, there are the Knights of Columbus, who represent the seafaring genius of famed Irishman Christopher Columbus by wearing small plastic swords, big plumed hats, and swishy capes, just like Columbus did. And drinking beer, but that comes later. Or not.

And there was a big group of guys in pretty dresses holding up golf bags full of crazed alley cats, and in doing so actually managed to pick out something that sounded like "Amazing Grace." Or it might have been "Amazing Gracie, Lassie of Limerick." Hard to tell with cats.

Since it was a parade, that meant cars, none of which were made in Ireland. There was an interesting arrangement of Volkswagens, however--a green Beetle followed by an orange-and-green Microbus followed by an orange Beetle. Get it? Nah. I didn't either.

One of the local public houses had a float, decorated with beer advertisements and full of people shouting and throwing things at the crowd, although in this instance none of the objects were bricks or tire irons.

I went on down the block and got myself some lunch, and had to punch someone because he wasn't wearing green. I tell you, little kids have NO sense of tradition. Then, on the way back noticed that there were still a few folks left over from the parade walkers and float riders, one of whom gave me a nice plastic bead necklace of the sort handed out on Mardi Gras. And she didn't even ask me to show her my chest! But, I did anyway, because it seemed to be the polite thing to do.

So, now, time for the rest of the afternoon, which will be spent in quiet contemplation, studying Celtic culture in the form of Maureen O'Sullivan.

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