Dazed con't.

Hey right on! This next float is a shared job. Three logos. Shell, Greenpeace and Philip Morris. Hey neat eh? Oh I get it. The Greenpeacers are toking on the Philip Morris Float while pumping gas. Way cool. Here comes a clown handing out recycled balloon condoms. Nice lips too. Thanks buddy! Luv ya! MeThinks I’m gonna wait for that blow up machine.

Now here’s a strange one. It’s a Swedish job with all these blond bombshell types standing, sort of prancing actually, behind these occupied wheelchairs. I can’t make out the banner. Hang on. Ah ha! You betcha! The Brain-Damaged EuthanAsian Syringe Manufacturers Society. Gotta love it, eh?! Hey! Here comes the boys in scarlet! What would a parade be without the RCMP?! Yup. On horses too! Winnie hee haw! Support Your Rural RCMPeezies. You got it brother! Hey, this RCMPeezie guy wearing a pink “Starlight Tours Forever” button, just handed me a popsicle with this injun face on it and a little wind-up horsey. Oh. What a riot! You wind it up and it poops out a parking ticket. Terrific! (I dumped the popsicle. It had this sweet grassy taste, ya’know?) And you should see these guys. They’re wearing bullet proof everythings and they’ve got gadgets up the yin yang and guns and looks like a little grenade action on his belt there. Neat! Yay Canada!

Breathe baby breathe. Man that ExTC is right up there with that blimp. Still can’t make that out.

Next! Here comes another one. This one’s super-garish! I luv it! Hang on. Gotta read the banner you know, eh? There it is… coming into view now. Hang on. The Military Machine Cog-Selling Lipstick Merchant Marines. OK. I’m down with that.

Uh oh. Here’s the first real bummer float. Veddy poor taste. Micks for Mutual Masturbation just doesn’t work for me. Polite applause is all. Really girls.
Oh wow. Here comes a hippy. “Spiked apple juice man?” I flashed him my best peace sign and winked an X and he got it. Cool dude.

Hey dig it! Another coalition float. Coming into view. Coming… coming… Ah! Good shit man! It’s the KKK Anti-Defamation League in cahoots with Grey Power with fancy dancers all a hub-bubblin. Does it get any better?

Oh that blimp? I can make out the name now. It’s the Hindenburg 2 and it’s just dropped its payload of fliers… Fags for Free Speech and Syphilis. The timing was perfect. These cheerleaders showed up just when the first fliers mapped the crowd… Give me an A! A! Give me an I! I! Give me a D! D!…Give me a Zed! Huh?

Holy hell’s bells. Another band. And they’re playing our song, Faisal! It’s the Evangelical Palestinians for Seven Virgins in Heaven singing YMCA! wearing kilts full of suspicious looking pipes. Neat.

At this point, I hadda take a leak and get some air. And the biffy was down the block a ways. So I turned off my mike. Things were getting a little testicular anyway. En route I spied the Serial Killers for the Abolishment of DNA Testing rear-end the Neverland float witnessed by the Lawspeek Dancing Band of Thieves (“We charge by the syllable!”). Works for them I guess.

The guy making a killing though was the dude selling toe grease to the goose stepping Pro-Life Dikes. Man, I should have thought of that.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. I woke up in Central Park with Santa’s toque, a sore ass and my train ticket glued to my ear. So here I yam at Broadway Station waiting on my choo-choo ride home. Oh shit. Here comes that same gang of rap-yappin a-holes that were on the train from East Van. My fucken luck, eh? Catch me later at Sailor’s. I’m gonna need a drink. Luv and kisses, Adolf.