You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
National Unicorn day.
In a world where every damn day has a special meaning, now I’ve seen it all.
Hug a vagrant day. Lick an icy street lamp day. Squat and pee in public day.
Yes, if there is a day on the calendar, then someone surely has commandeered that day and made it national this that or the other thing day.
To some hooligans, Sunday, April 9th was Palm Sunday. But to others with iphone calendars and pink whispy dreams and aspirations, it was NATIONAL UNICORN DAY.
Yes. I said it. UNICORNS?
The mythical creature is a fixture in fairy tales and love stories. The unicorn is stately beast that gallops and flies and prances through pastures of emerald green splendor. Unicorns often magically transport royalty.
Walk into an 8 year old girl’s bedroom and be prepared to see posters of Princesses with long flowing hair and pink ribbons racing through evil forests liberating wood nymphs and floral citizens of the glade.
That’s fine for a 2nd grade girl’s room, but a whole day devoted to it?
Gimme a break.
National Unicorn Day?
Twitter is trending, its newsfeed filled with images of white horses and magic horns and fanciful rainbows.
Type in the word; Unicorn, and this is the first thing that pops up.
“The unicorn,” Pliny wrote, “is the fiercest animal, and it is said that it is impossible to capture one alive. It has the body of a horse, the head of a stag, the feet of an elephant, the tail of a boar, and a single black horn three feet long in the middle of its forehead. Its cry is a deep bellow.”
I think about unicorn in my own beer soaked brain, and I see a horse with a phallic symbol strapped to its nose. Not only is a horn on a horse head not sexy, it’s hard to run fast. Why do you think you’ve never seen a unicorn win the Kentucky Derby?
I look out the window on Unicorn Day and I see the man across the street sweeping out his garage. He is covered with dirt and sweat. It’s only 7:30 am and he already looks like a farm laborer who has crossed the border in a packing crate.
I open the window and shout at the poor, sweaty bastard. “Hey It’s Unicorn Day. Knock it off!”
He stares at me with a “what did that moron just holler?”
“That’s right. go take a shower and make sure you clean your junk with something fruity and smelling of guava.”
I slam the window before he can respond.
Don’t ruin my National Unicorn day mutton chop, I say with satisfaction.
As I watch the morning news shows castrate the president about his decision to lob cruise missiles into Lybia, I think about donning a fairy princess costume and braiding my hair with rainbow colored sprinkles.
National Unicorn day?
What’s next? Thong Thursday?
Why the F not.
Life’s Crazy™