Pirates
As the jolly and well-adjusted person that I am, you can probably assume that I love a good parade. The large crowds of cheering people, the children running rampant through the streets, and the goddamned assholes on the fucking floats who think that they're somehow special. And they probably are. For all I know, the people who are actually in the parade all strip naked, slather themselves in mayonaise, get in a pile and screw when the whole thing is over with.
God, I hate these fucking things.
The reason I bring this up is not because I just wanted you all to know this - it's because there's an ass-fuck of a parade outside my house at this very moment. At 9:30 at night, a float filled with people dressed as pirates - who were firing faux cannons - went by. Cannons that they were firing. Cannons that are making a big fucking boom. Cannons that I hate.
God, I hate these fucking things.
I was hoping to think of another paragraph to write here so I could say "God, I hate these fucking things." again, but I hate these things too much to do that.
Update:
Q: How do you know when your parade is attended by bumbling morons?
A: When a tow-truck drives by and they cheer for that, too.