PattyPalooza Redux

Thorn Birds:

     In today's fantasy, I find myself in Texas, enjoying the big, vast, open vistas - driving down the long, solitary winding highways in my shiny convertible, with my flaxen haired cowgirl by my side. As we drive along, singing together in perfect harmony, I am at peace with all the world. This often happens when I'm under-stimulated. Unemployment has dulled my razor sharp senses to the point that original, creative thoughts occur less frequently than usual; this nadir resembles the state that's best described for the rest of society as normal.

     Sadly, the by-product of this fallow season is a disinclination to generate anything new. Happily however, I am feeling the initial stirrings of anticipation; PattyPalooza XIII is on the horizon! Many of my faithful readers are aware of this tribal festival's hold on my soul, but I recognize there are newer devotees for whom this event has no resonance. So, the coeval forces of lethargy devotion and sense of duty combine to produce this, a re-publication of an earlier post, that details the genesis and legend of this great event. Don't hate me 'cause I'm on auto-pilot!

 

THE LEGEND OF PATTYPALOOZA

 

     Long ago, in a land far, far away, there lived a beautiful Princess and her dashing husband, the Prince. They enjoyed a peaceful existence, blessed with 2 fine sturdy children, making their home in a bucolic setting, deep within an enchanted woodland. All was well. But then, inevitably, their children grew and developed interests outside their forest home.

 

       At first, this seemed a benign development; the empty nest had been a foregone conclusion to child-rearing, but somehow, the emptiness that enveloped the royal couple was palpable. This was especially true for the Princess - Patty. Whiling away the days with sundry employment and decorating tasks just didn't fill the void in her life that this natural progression had wrought.

     It was just after hosting the perfunctory family gathering, that the Princess had an idea; why not create an annual event for family and assorted townsfolk to enjoy? This would surely provide the missing spark and likely result in mirth and merriment for all involved. 

     

      She quickly set to the task, incorporating ideas and assistance from the farthest reaches of the kingdom. The resultant pagan festival that bears her name - PattyPalooza - was born. Over the years, the Princess and her Prince transformed their arboreal homeland into a theme park, of sorts. 

     Featured attractions, added throughout the years include: the slip & slide of doom, the duck regatta, fireworks (the real ones, not those dopey fake ones), karaoke, bean bag/washer toss tourneys, talent contests, awards ceremonies, and last years' crowning jewels, the pool and Tiki bar. Theme t-shirts were added over the years, some of which made their way to other lands, destined perhaps to inspire other fair-haired princesses. 
   

     So there you have it; as we prepare for this year's edition, the 13th, those fortunate souls holding the golden invitation tickets will surely rest their heads each night, their hearts full of wonder - anticipating what's to come. Of course, I'll provide a recap of the weekend's events, in nauseating detail. Of course, that'll be original thought. Sweet dreams meo daemonia.....     

First, Do No Harm

Gerunds:
     At this point, even I've become bored with the telling and re-telling of my pathetic unemployment saga. From this day forward, dear ones, I shall refrain from lambasting your sensitive retinal units with my unyielding whine sad, but fascinating story. Civilizations have risen and fallen with less angst than you've been force fed.

     In an effort to lighten the mood, I've
decided to utilize one of my lesser known, but incredible gifts - arm's-length medical advice. But first, a word of warning: I strongly suggest those readers with only double digit IQs, who've somehow stumbled blindly upon this eclectic tome, to stop here. Putting yourselves through the mental gymnastics necessary to follow my C. Everett-esque diagnostics will serve only to increase your frustrations and lower (as if that was possible) your Marianas Trench level of self-esteem.

     Simply, this exercise utilizes the basic rubrics that serve as the basis for all my logisms; that being, an arrogant assumption of my infallibility good, solid reasoning and sound situational assessments. In this vein, I've divined the dominant medical issues of some well known celebrities, to determine the most appropriate palliative response. <Dullard alert: stop here; I mean it. if you don't, I'm not responsible for your failings - you are!> By the way, as always, you're on your own to research those herein named, with whom you're not familiar. Some of these will take some thought; hence, the above admonitions. Here we go.
 
Patient: Oprah Winfrey
Malady: Caustic overreactions / acute sense of self worth

Prognosis: I've started with a tough one. Here's a woman who is responsible for incredible philanthropy, yet pitches a hissy fit because she believes she was wronged - in a store that sells $38,000 purses. She may have been mistreated, but she was in a store that sells $38,000 purses!  Take 2 chill pills and call me in the morning.
 
Patient: Wayne LaPierre
Malady: Tone deafness
Prognosis: Has anyone done more to threaten the 2nd Amendment than the very guy charged with being its preservation's most vocal spokesman? Think about it. This thick-headed spawn of Muhammed Saeed al-Sahhaf & Annie Oakley continues to be the worst enemy of the very organization he leads. I prescribe a transfusion - completely new blood.
 
Patient: Alex Rodriguez
Malady: Artificially inflamed muscle mass / Stratospheric ego (I know one when I see one)
Prognosis: When has a player ever accomplished so much, and had less to show for it? Our poster boy for all things disgusting about professional sports is prescribed the one medicine he's fighting so hard not to take: an asterisk!
 
 
Patient: Barbara Walters
Malady: Separation anxiety 
Prognosis: As Babs creaks and groans her way to the finish line she clearly doesn't want to reach, her horrified legion of fans sees only Willie Mays, as a New York Met. They shoot horses, don't they?
 
 
 
Patient: Dan Miller
Malady: Chronic indecisiveness / irony blindness
Prognosis: Harrisburg's City Controller is isn't is isn't is running for Mayor. He's decided that he will now stay in the race because our city needs a confident, forceful leader. Sadly, I fear there's no cure.
 
     Well, there you have it, my little terrapins. With my flaxen-haired cowgirl awaiting me, sweet dreams beckon. I trust you've found the foregoing useful; if you haven't, examine yourselves carefully, as perhaps you are in need of a personal session with Dr. Speed. My staff awaits your call. Medicus est.....