Wall of Paul

That’s the Tatara clan, hanging out on the corner of Broadway and W. 52nd St., around 10 o’clock this morning. Jill’s holding Zsa Zsa…I mean Elsa…who’s in her pink leopard skin ensemble. I, of course, am on the right, wearing my possibly racist Chief Wahoo hat, and Jack, as always, is Jack.

Because it’s there, we went to see part of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Jack was able to ogle several cool balloons, and I was able to re-injure the elbow I broke several years ago, merely by holding him like that, non-stop, for about an hour. Jack said, “Now you know you’re thankful for me, because you held me up for that long,” which was cute, I suppose, but doesn’t stop my right arm from making a popping sound every time I extend it.

Oh— there was an entertaining new wrinkle to this year’s crowd. Many selfish idiots remembered to bring step ladders with them, so they could block the view of all the people - mainly children - standing behind them while the bands and floats passed by. Unfortunately, no one fell and cracked their head wide open on the pavement. But we did get to see Buzz Lightyear!

Alas, the Mr. Monopoly balloon…