Parade on Cleveland

Anyone who knows Stinky or anyone who takes a mere passing gander at my photo can tell I'm quite the physical specimen and sports-ball enthusiast, what with having the strength of a rhinoceros after a refreshing nap and the grace of a gazelle leaping on the savanna. Or in Savannah. Stinky gets those two confused. So naturally I was quite pleased to discover my hometown has what is called a basketball franchise. Basketball, as it turns out, is quite the exhilarating endeavor, especially the last twenty seconds or so. Gads of dribbling, mostly with a ball, break-fast action, and the forceful jamming of a ball in an open-ended basket, which I believe is called "spelunking".

And imagine Stinky's emotion, which very nearly approached something akin to pleasure, when I discovered that my local hometown basketball franchise (also known as a "team") won the annual post season challenge in a culminating seventh game (or "contest") victory, thereby being proclaimed Champions of the Basketball Universe. Huzzahs all around!

The transformation of my hometown was something to behold, not quite overwhelming, but fairly whelming. The indescribable bliss of everyone feeling like a winner, kinda like that time I got a word correct ("traipse") in a Spelling Bee, is bound to last minutes, if not hours. So congrats to everybody involved, especially Stinky myself, for accidentally turning on the television and watching several minutes of a game (or "contest"), which probably caused them to win.

But do we really need a self-congratulatory parade clogging up the vital arteries of Stinky's hometown? Think of the inconvenience. What if I suddenly had a craving for Peterson's roasted nutmeats? Stinky would have to go without, that's what. And Stinky does not like to go without.

And I think we all know how Stinky feels about parades. Nothing more boringer was ever invented outside of a Robert Altman film. Imagine standing amidst a crowd of 1.3 million (admittedly, in a city of 67 people, that's quite impressive), on a very hot day, crammed like smelts, this close to a bunch of people who forgot to put on their Mitchum. No thank you.

But far be it from Stinky to rain on anyone's parade. I leave that to The Man Upstairs, who frankly, let Stinky down today.

So congratulations are due the Cleveland Chandeliers, my new favorite basketball club, reigning Champions of the Basketball Universe. Yay.

Does not look like a good time to me.