I participated on the 4th in a spectacle which took place in Washington Square Park at noon. It was called, "BUSH!" and was the brainchild of internationally-known and revered prankster, Joey Scaggs. I was a cheerleader, along with tons of other lovely, charming, local artist broads, including Reverend Jen, Diane O'Debra, Margaret Dodge, Tia, Ann Carr and others. The Trachtenburg's own little angel face Rachel Trachtenburg played the drums, and Touching You and others played Saudi vote buyers. Along with those already mentioned, there was also a full chorus, a few other musicians, Dick Cheney, Colin Powell, secret service men, and a ton of other miscellaneous characters. Joey himself played Uncle Sam. He rode a three-wheeled bicycle (I guess technically, they're called 'tri-cycles') into Washington Square Park behind all of us who were prancing through the park in a parade-like procession, yelling out cheers and singing American pride songs like "Grand Old Flag" and others. Attached to Joey's tri-cycle was an outhouse with Bush sitting on the shitter, wiping his ass with money. The Saudi vote buyers stood beside Uncle Sam and handed out fake money to those who were bold enough to walk up and accept it. The money said something along the lines of, Let's get this douche out of office.
It was a crazy good time, albeit it was a hundred degrees out and I was doing a lot of jumping and yelling, as cheerleaders are wont to do. (Did I spell wont right?) We got a lot of attention (How can a parade not get attention?) Tons of people were gathered around singing with us, asking questions, looking confused or bored or acceptant, or other. One guy came running into the parade as we were marching into the park and screamed, "No! Stop! What are you doing?" Joey had arranged it as a faux-pro rally, so it 'almost' seemed as if we were in support of the Bush campaign, except that if you looked and listened closely, you'd see we were absolutely NOT. For example, one of our cheers was, "Gimme A B! U! S! H! What's that spell? BULL!" Etc.
It was lots of fun and I think I got skin cancer. Read more about it here:
BUSH and the BUSHETTES bring down the house
Afterwards, the Collective Unconscious was holding their annual Monster Parade, where they basically dress up in strange costumes and waltz down the promenade instigating lookers-on.
I walked over and checked it out briefly, but not much was going on yet, they were still setting up. But Big Mike was there trying to take photos of my breasts and ass, 'cause that's his thing. As I was leaving, he begged, as he is not above doing that. He pleaded with me one last time. "Please???" I walked past him cooly and even maybe coldly, saying, "No, Big Mike." He let his camera fall to his side, his red, creepy face sagging into a frown. Once I thought I was safely past him and out of the reach of his itchy trigger finger, I flipped up the back of my skirt to tease him, (I was wearing a bathing suit underneath) and that fat asshole, that son of a whore, his chubby little trigger finger snapped up a polaroid of my bikini-bottomed butt so fast, I was in shock. I heard the familiar polaroid processing sounds as I lowered my skirt back down and wondered, did he get me? That quick bastard? I turned around and he was one huge smile. He showed me the photo, and I don't know how he did it, but he got a perfect photo of my ass, without even looking or aiming his camera, as it hung down by his side. The photo is even evenly framed. I tried to take it away, but he wouldn't let me. It's the pride of his scrapbook as I have never let him take any naked photos of me as long as I've known him. I think he's got the tits of almost every art star out there. Now he's got my ass. Career, look out. Here I come.
In the evening I went to some Greene Dragon party on the other side of the Williamsburg bridge. I drank two 40s of Budweiser and watched the fireworks. I fell asleep on the roof of the party at some point during the Hungry March Band's set. Beer always wins in a nap-off with my brain.
CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE
I'd like to take a moment to give some credit to the regular posters of my comments boards. The creativity of your comments, while not always educational or informative, is generally of a high, admirable level. Keep up the good work, friends!
Also, who the hell are you Ed Humperfinkel or whatever your name is? And why won't you come clean? I've asked who you are now about three times. Are you afraid of me?