The gang at NBC and Macy’s visited us again this year with their latest iteration of a holiday tradition – the Thanksgiving Day Parade. The tradition of Thanksgiving is one celebrated in many places around the world.
Originally meant as a reminder to be thankful for the many blessings bestowed by the Almighty, it has, like some of the performers, mutated over the years on the streets of New York. Gone are the innocent floats, once simple animals draped in gilded capes hoping to attract holiday shoppers, now replaced by balloons inflated more than Americans and their economy. However, they made up for it with Big Pharma commercials hoping to attract the lame and afflicted, you know, just like Jesus did.
Thanksgiving morning just isn’t the same for Mrs. Bananas unless she can start it by watching the Macy’s parade. It serves as a pre-game for the long day ahead in the kitchen because what can get you more amped to feast than a bunch of fat-ass floats being anchored to the concrete by a bunch of fatties? Fat shaming, you say? Dear Lord of the Flies, no! Thanksgiving is a celebration of girth people, and I’m here for it.
Our hosts were the usual suspects from NBC, Homa Kotb, Al Roker 2.0 (petit et maigre), and Savanna Guthrie, who dressed appropriately for the opening number, a Demi Lovato song about BDSM. Savanna’s black leather mini-skirt and studded leather gloves were no doubt all the rage with the ladies on the Mayflower, and the crowd of parents and children went wild for it – slay girls!
Our next highly rehearsed moment of spontaneity had little Big Al standing perfectly aside the front of a cathedral with the Pride-Swastika flag hung with care in hopes that diversity soon would be there. By golly, as luck would have it, the former Vice President Joe Biden himself and his second wife Jill must have just gotten up from another long winter’s nap to join the festivities! Gropey Joe’s potentially pre-recorded comments were dern-near perfect for the holiday – let’s be thankful for all of our blessings. You know, like the fact we aren’t all unemployed and could get a short-term loan to pay for dinner, and for the military we just sent overseas to fight another foreign war, and let’s not forget the first responders we need to defund so the terrorists we let cross our southern border can get some equity man! God save the, you know, the thing.
(Banana’s Media is happy to report no children’s hair or bodily autonomy were molested during the course of his comments.)
Of course, a massive production like this doesn’t just happen without some advertiser money which is why Lady Gaga appeared on screen ready to hock some migraine meds for our friends at Pfizer. Loosely paraphrasing it went something like this:
“Being the queen of the freaks isn’t easy, and pounding away on a demonic piano in a skin-tight leather-o-tard night after night can take a toll, especially when the demons are real. Which is why I take Nurtec ODT for my debilitating migraines. Side effects may include nausea, diarrhea, eye bleeding, vomiting, ruptured ear drums, loss of identity, anti-semitism and Islamophobia. Ask your doctor or exorcist if Nurtec is right for you.
I dare you to find me one person who isn’t thankful for Lady Gaga and Pfizer. Just one.
After the break, we’re brought back to see the gigantic balloon floats being carried by Lilliputians when pangs of concern shot across my body seeing the Diary of a Wimpy Kid’s hand and the giraffe’s prodigious head and neck both dangerously deflated. However we were reassured there was nothing to worry about since both of them earlier that morning were given the parade vaccine. Whew!
Thankfully, someone had the good sense to invite the dancing band from Historical Black College Alabama A & M University to remind us what talent matched with thankfulness actually looks like. With moves and choreography slicker than Gavin Newsom’s hair, these youngsters brought the party to the people, including the white folks who looked to be still waiting for Santa to bring them some rhythm, but who cares because that’s why God gave us the Cher!
What is she still doing in the States, you ask? I wondered, too, because I thought she vowed to leave if Donald Trump became president. Looking at the most recent polls, I hope her tickets aren’t expired, but looking at her dance, something tells me her eighty-year-old hips and knees are. That didn’t stop her from belting out her new hit “DJ Play A Christmas Song (I Wanna Dance All Night).” Of course you do, honey.
It wouldn’t be a Macy’s Day parade without the Rockettes, and this year’s edition of leg swingers was unusually masculine. I noted to Mrs. Bananas, who couldn’t see the five o’clock shadow for the tree trunks swinging to a fro. I’d bet my ripe banana they were sporting more packages than Santa, but the cameraman cautiously pulled out to a wide-angle shot, making my claim seem as spurious as their femininity. Touché media masters.
The grand finale featured the famous gift-toting Ice Man on his sleigh who looks to have cometh down with a serious case of diversity fever as I don’t recall the lovely Mrs. Claus sporting an arctic tan quite so chocolaty. However, when your food groups are candy, candy cane, candy corn, and maple syrup, who’s to say what kind of skin tone you’ll end up with? Not this guy.
We can all be thankful our friends at Big Pharma have a drug for that, too.
