OK, fucking Safari having just fucking quit on me, restarting now in Firefox. Fucking programers cannot fucking figure out how to make a fucking blog work after fucking 10 years or whatever of the web revo. Jeez. It ain't rocket science, folks! Fucking retards. This is why we give you gourmet meals at lunch and amazing pay and a fucking boatload of stock options? The new media, yea, fucking right. What a crock of shit.
OK.
Sorry.
Let's return to our regularly scheduled (or not so regularly) blog:
Happy, fucking pride!
I forget what witty shit I wrote before about SF vs. Chicago pride parade, since it's like 11 p.m., which is really late for a middle-aged guy, and I've had most of the bottle of California barbera (why do californians think they can grow just any fucking grape they want, without regard for climate or soil? jeez. well, actually, this one was pretty good. of course, don't know if ya can even buy it around here since it was a taster from work. Preston of Dry Creek; look for it) since Chris doesn't drink that much. So instead ...
Here are a couple fotos; lame, yes, but I only had my camera fone, Chris having said I didn't need to go get the camera and having refused to tell me where it is. Harumph! Alan, you were right 15 years ago!!!!!
Anywho ...
Trannies on wheels ... and who is that spikey do with too much product?
Better. A street scene. People watching. But what is the random float with trannies? Who knows. It's random! (my niece's favorite word).
Pride is about watching a parade go by in the rain (insert "don't let it rain on" cliche; somehow the Trib metro copy editors held themselves back from that. I applaud them; don't know if I could have restrained myself) and realizing later how normal it all is.
When Pride is normal, this is good.
