SEASON OF THE BAND DORKS

Yes friends it is the season that we all look forward to, marching band competitions. Sit down and i will spin you the tale of dorky kids dressed in pseudo-military uniforms made completely of non fire retardant synthetic fibers. Family, friends and over zealous geeks lay down their pocket protectors, take out their retainers and headgear, don the school colors and scream wildly as the 3rd chair flute sticks the trill in the 4th measure of Aztec Fire. See the coming together, if you will, the work of hours of hard marching in the painful fields and sweaty sessions in the band room come together in an orgasmic frienzy of flag and drum, brass and woodwind and the tempetuous soiree that is competetive marching band. Thrill to the crowd in heated furvor scream for all they have as their band stiffly, deftly and sharply delivers the classic renditions of Styx, Fantasia, and the music of John Williams. Indeed my friends it is not unlike looking at the sun, for what else is there to see when you have been to heaven? It is my contention, worthy friends, that all matters, big and small could be settled on the marching field. No more wars, no more debates of celestial bodies and the meaning of existence. If Socrates could only have viewed the Bondurant Marching Bluejay Pride last saturday, his famous quote, "the unexamined life is not worth living." would be but whispers of nonsense (maybe it was Marcus Aurelius that said that). Anyway, if gangs could but "throw it down" on the competition field instead of out of a moving car, life would be beautiful. Terrorists could play to the sound of their own color guard blowing themselves up in beautiful cascades of crimson in time with with the magical sounds of finger symbols. Ah, but i dream. Guess we just have to go back to what we know, acting like assholes and watching the Apprentice, YOUR FIRED!