I've lived in New York for most of my life. Outside of work, the two times with my father's work, and the high school graduation cross country road trip I've had no desire to leave. With that being said, there's a few things I've never done because, well, they're not really "New York" things to do. Not only have I not done them, but anecdotally I don't know anyone that has either, and I know one or two natives. One of those things is the Macy's Day Parade. I've seen it on TV, and I've heard legend of it's existence spoken in hushed tones in the darkest of dive bars between the seediest of customers, but as far as going I've just never had any interest in doing so. Mostly because I don't like most of you. Well, not "you" personally ... well, not all of you personally, but tourists from all over the world who come to stand nut to butt on a cold street for six hours looking up and down really slowly as things roll down the street at a blistering less than one mile per hour. The only thing more annoying is if those things rolling down the street were going two hundred miles per hour repeatedly ... like five hundred times. Sounds like a mental condition to me. If the other things that I haven't done aren't obvious yet, those would be the lighting of the Rockefeller Center Tree and the Ball Drop on Military Island during New Years. Traveling time zones to see a tree in a place not exactly known for it's agriculture and a light bulb. Whatever, leave me alone I'm more than happy staying in my nice warm home seeing the same thing on a tv.
So that preamble leads me to my problem. My Achilles Heel. My daughter. She wanted to see the giant balloons live, and I seem to have no way to say no to her. I didn't want to go. My wife didn't want to go. My parents didn't want to go. Her parents didn't want to go. My brother and sister didn't want to go. Aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews? Nope. No one wanted to go either. They're all smart like that. So Thursday, instead of being home, in the nice warm room eating delicious food that I spent all Wednesday evening into early Thursday morning helping prepare. Noooo, I just can't say no so I take the little leech to stand on a street corner for most of the day. I'm literally a whore here, except I'm not getting paid. So I'm a dumb 'ho. And she's sitting on my shoulders to see over the crowd of "you" retards that some how are excited and happy to see this nonsense, so it's not like I can really see much of anything myself. I've never wanted to kill indiscriminately before in my life, and I've seen war.
And the payoff? After an hour of trying to get there because of traffic, six hours of standing in the cold with a bundle of energy threatening to snap my neck (praying that maybe she does), and another hour trying to get back home? The payoff for losing eight hours of my life to boredom, pain, anger, and cold? Did I ever mention that I hate the cold? Yeah, I hate the hell out of cold. I like snow, and snowy days when I can stay indoors next to the fireplace with a warm drink. I know I've mentioned that. But being out in the cold? There are few things I loathe more. At least I've got my nice warm Arctic weather jacket I got for going to Iraq. That thing is beautifully warm. The thing is designed to keep you warm in those horrible snowstorms in Iraq and Afghanistan, after all. The little spawn looks me in the eyes and says "That sucked."
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George Carlin wrote:
I think it’s the duty of the comedian to find out where the line is drawn and cross it deliberately.