I’ve been looking forward to St. Patrick’s Day for the entire year. I don’t care much for green beer, but I do dig a little music, little parades, and a little dirty work. Tomorrow the good folks of Hot Springs, Arkansas are putting together the perfect little storm of this mini-madness: “The First Ever Fifth Annual World’s Shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade” …
My friend, Mike Rowe, will be the emcee for this little shindig. Now, Mike doesn’t know he’s my friend, but since he comes over to my house all the time, and we share some laughs, i think that should count. (for the record, the same should apply to Steve Carell, Keith Olbermann and, of course, Stuart Scott)
Many attempts have been made to line Mike up with a dirty job while he’s in town, but many of the folks in H.S. seem to think that it might be “bad for business”. Seriously. Millions of dollars worth of PR is the opposite of “bad for business” in my book, but who am I to question the Hot Springians. I may get a chance to have lunch with Mike tomorrow, and if I do, I’ll tell him that you said hi. (“you” as in the singular reader that I have retained with my intermittent posting to wholebrevitything.com)
Sadly, do to a little soccer game, and the Dad and Lad Cake Bake (seriously, that’s the weakest masculine name ever) the Jones family will miss the parade. And this is the part that really breaks my little heart: after the parade has completed it’s romp down all 98′ feet of Bridge Street, MINI-KISS will rock and roll all night.
I’m out of words now.