And where in thunder did they go?
You’ll have to draw me a map. My sense of direction isn’t very good.
As the Chosen Ones begin their long journey preparations are for a great celebration. Musically: a band is playing a lively march, and a parade is in progress. One politician looking for votes courts the crowd. An orator sees him and yells, “Good for you, Mr. Nixon!” People dressed in their very best head for Bean Dinner Park. And it’s going be all of us old timers against the youngster facing off at the plate. Sack racing, as advertise. Hog calling, for something different and a greased pole for those who dare. Baseball, sack racing, hog calling and greasy pole climbing, all fun activities conducted in a religious atmosphere. Be moving along. So much to do. Can’t wait for the beauty contest.
Marx once said, “no one in Germany is politically emancipated. We ourselves are not free. How are we to free you? You Jews are egoists if you demand a special emancipation for yourselves as Jews.”
Isn’t it great! We’re having such a wonderful time.
Fly your balloons.
Where is the cotton candy?
All we wants is freedom as a possession.
Third strike, and she’s out!
Sure we haven’t got much. And sure anything we have is beside the point. But O, the All Mighty wouldn’t um be upset to see such heathenism?
To see the old buzzard whooping it up along side his old lady.
You’re the prettiest woman I ever did see. And that’s how that man is going to make his mark. He’ll go far with his compliments.
And the celebration goes into the night. We shout and cheer because some of us are impressed by the feats of others.