the Change I Wish to See

… and a miracle has happened, tonight.*

Sometimes, writing a post is like pulling hair: you tug and you tug and the best you can hope for is a handful of broken strands with no idea how to weave them together.  Other times, ideas fall like manna from heaven, or like a sourdough bacon cheeseburger from Roy Rogers.

Tonight – well, last night by the time you read this – a blogging miracle happened.  Just when I thought I had no idea what I’d tell you about the weekend, this pulled up in front of my house:

There is so much about this picture you can’t tell from the photo.  I’ll try to do the moment justice.

It starts with tambourines.  Had we not heard them, my roommate and I never would’ve looked out the window.  We heard the tambourines coming from down the street.  Now how could we have isolated the sound of tambourines on our hugely busy Busy Street?  Well…

1) How often do you hear tambourines anywhere outside of a parody of The Music Man? They stood out.
2) They are all over the vehicle.  As you can sort of see, there are about 20.  There are some around the antenna in the back, the passenger-side mirror, and even the windshield wipers.  They all had furry, brightly colored streamers affixed to them.  The driver also had one or six, but I couldn’t capture that in my haste.

The car also has all sorts of entertaining prose all over the door.  While most of it was oddly fine print we couldn’t really read, there were two lines in larger bold lettering:

1) “The almighty posse soldiers to stop Satan.”
2) “I’m too blessed to be stressed.”

Now as for #2, as a formerly churchified child, I recognized it immediately, though I always thought it counter-intuitive: the idea of being too wrapped up in god to be worried, that is… seeing as how being wrapped up in god requires constant worry re: whether you’ll make it to see god or be banished to flaming, eternal damnation.  That actually was a lot of stress for me.  But hey, who am I to tell people how to book their souls’ vacation?

As for #1 – the what?  The almighty what?  Posse soldiers?  This made no sense to me; until I realized that the car’s audio wasn’t blasting Yolanda Adams or Donnie McClurkin, but none other than the undocumented disciples of Christ, Dem Franchise Boyz; because if Jesus could walk on water, he sure as balls could lean wit it rock wit it.**

Before we could read more of what was on the door, the car backed up, blocking both sides of Busy Street to which my roommate quipped:

Must be too blessed to obey traffic laws, too.

Hip hip hooray for us though, the posse-mobile – I think it was a convertible Chrysler Sebring – pulled up behind our house, continuing the antics.

At this point, we didn’t know whether to cry from laughing or go ask for some of his materials and pamphlets (because you know he had pamphlets.. or a CD).  Here, we realized there were yet more tambourines on the driver-side mirror.  But the most important discovery was the identity of the driver.  I swear to you this: it was George Clinton

Ok, so obviously it wasn’t actually George.  And, obviously, that would’ve been amazing.  But this was apparently someone thinking dressing as the Parliament leader would add credibility to his posse-soldiering.  It most certainly did not.  And hence you reading about it all here.

What happened for the rest of the weekend?  Good question.  I remember us eating Baconators, watching four hours of Black to the Future, and then some movie called The International.  But who cares?  I saw the possie soldiers.  You?

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*And I’m not just talking about the snow.
**By the way, the best job security during a recession is having camera phone video footage of your boss trying to lean wit it. How I wish I could share it.  But I won’t.  Because I’m a nice guy.