I didn’t attend Hoopfest… here’s why
Good morning, Netizens...
Yet another year in the life of Hoopfest has come and gone, and all the numb sunburned bodies have finally laid their claims to fame and fortune or ill fame and misfortune as the case may be. But for me and mine, we did not attend Hoopfest; in fact, we didn't even watch the breathless news breaks featuring the winners on the evening news. Why?
First, there is no place for aging fat bodies in the mass mayhem of thousands of basketball players vying for first place. Granted, there are a few elder members of our society who have banded together and thus compete on the courts downtown, but there should be strict disclaimers for televised images. After all, the pictures of septuagenarians hitting the tarmac with an ugly splat should not be broadcast where innocent youngsters can see them unless accompanied by, “Before you laugh, remember someday you, too, could look like this.”
Of course, no Hoopfest would be complete without a whirlwind tour of the vendors on food row. The selection of food and drink is just like Pig Out in the Park but with muscle strains and those fancy T-shirts. In fact, if you look closely, you'll see that most of the vendors also appear at Pig Out in the Park as well. Once again, aging fatbodies, particularly those with Type-II diabetes should avoid the temptation. My, but what a wonderful selection of temptation we have in Spokane.
A great deal of noise has been made about how Hoopfest makes all this money for the City of Spokane and worthy charities, and thus justifies its existence. It does a lot of good for charities, in fact. However, I would much rather choose the charities I support, rather than have someone else choose them for me. Remember, this is day 70 of the Gulf Oil Spill.
The biggest reason we have studiously avoided Hoopfest all these years, however, is that I develop a severe rash of a most private nature when I am in a vast warbling mass of unwashed people, regardless of their intentions or why they came together. Yes, I admit it. I get a severe rash on the forefront of my brain just thinking about 30,000 plus strangers in close proximity to me and mine. Give me a quiet afternoon sitting out back in the Virtual Garden watching the Garden Gnomes and a few closely-held friends celebrating the ripening strawberry plants and the serenity of the rose bushes.
Dave