Mar 21, 2011
Fluke: Entire Lamont Marching Band Independently Opts To Play The "Dinner Bell” For 2011-2012 Marching Band Season
In yet another one of those mind-numbing things that can only happen in a place like Lamont, the entire membership of the obscure yet somewhat under-appreciated “Lamont Marching Band”, (known locally as “The Famished Farmers”) in an interesting attempt at country originality as well as an effort to match their natural, inherent, obviously limited musical talents with the appropriate instrument difficulty level (or lack there of!), anyway, somehow they all ended up choosing the ever-handy yet somewhat cumbersome and spine-straining/knee-buckling brass “dinner bell” from their respective farms/ranches to express their musical aspirations in a marching band context. “Well, let’s just say that this does drastically cut down on the number of potential songs that they will have to learn for next year!” said Gomer Bodine, 56, a farmer/rancher and the Lamont area 'so-called' band leader. “Heck, beggars can’t be no doggone choosers, so it ain’t like I can go making them pick some dadburned instrument that one would expect in any normal, sane, potentially enjoyable, remotely musically oriented marching band or whatever! Given the quite shocking prevailing laziness of this area in general, I was just tickled pink that we even got three volunteers (warm bodies!) to step away from castrating cows and watching the wheat grow in the first place. And who don't love the low, woeful sound of a clattering dinner bell after a full day spent fixing some piece a machinery 30 years past its life expectancy and/or running down the town of Lamont for all of them fancy ‘pro-toilet’, big city ways that seem to be all the rage now-a-days? (More than one clanging, tuneless dinner bell will be even that much more of a special treat to the listening audience!) Sure, we will sound like a marching train wreck and all, but this is America, doggone it, and if them local artsy-fartsy types want to give vent to their somewhat twisted/stunted musical muse via a 250-odd pound, solid brass dinner bell and march around the place with it, then who am I to throw a wet blanket on their dreams, anyway? Our dadburned Founding Fathers fought and died for our right to be socially, culturally and musically inappropriate, and I for one ain't going to soil that memory none! This is America! If you don't like it, move to California or Seattle or one of them places back East with all them sinister huddled masses of foreigners doing whatever sinister huddled masses of foreigners do or whatever! (With all them sinister foreign accents that no sane man can hardly understand in the first place! And what is with all that hand waving and double cheek kissing?)” concluded the righteously indignant Gomer, wiping away a patriotic tear while spitting an impressive stream of tobacco juice on an unfortunate passing sage bug.
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