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Horn O' Plenty
2009-07-04

It takes a village to float a goat -- and fill a horn of plenty. That we did, good people. That we did. Once again, the Alameda 4th of July parade was a celebration of liberty and libertines, where our humble collective did parade totems of Dionysos among the good people of this non-Aegean island. With our oversized Horn O' Plenty spilling forth fresh fruit, bestowed upon a fawning crowd by Wendy the Nymph and Andrew the Great Grape, we won accolades, quizzical looks, dumbfounded glances, and the cries of babes. The inhibited recoiled whilst the free rejoiced. Another success. Alas, fickle Fate and false hopes for fuel efficiency foiled our float's finish; no flourish at the finale was ours, the failure mine. Fudge. Nonetheless, we received a second place trophy in the vehicle category. (Those pesky Andrews Sister's singing sirens on the USS Hornet float took first.) Not sure whether the approbation of the judges is a credit or curse, but the wonderful horniness of the Horn O' Plenty and the USS Hornet were both duly recognized -- and for that we will credit the aesthetic evolution of Alameda. Floatastic. There are many people to thank for this collective effort. The Goatillac superstructure was a triumph of engineering orchestrated by The Great Shiraz. Sir Andrew was the picture of efficiency in leading the charge on cornucopia construction. Screwdriver Alan provided craftiness, reliability, the PA system, and drove us on. And to all 13 Riders of the Apocalypso, with their flagellating palm fronds and many works of art, we owe our gratitude: Honey Bee, Bonky Dog, Mr. Shiney Pants, El Chupacabre, Queen Circe, The Great Shiraz, Lord Herrick, Boy Boucheron, Mikey Mike, Sustainable Susan, The Satyrical One, Dynamo Dave, and Anna the Belle. All hail! And let us knot forget FeelGood Rick, mad conductor on skates, who punished the pavement with his flailing frond and fancy footwork, eliciting with his gyrations calls from the crowd for a bit of spanking. O, happy day! En fin, our crippled chariot found safe harbor on Bay Street, conveniently close to our post partum party place. As our charming nymph danced off into the Central Avenue Forest, the rest retired to langourously lounge on a local lawn, consuming fresh grilled dorado, fistfuls of fruit, and fine fermented refreshment. 'Twas a landscape marked by hot pants, warm sun, a cool breeze, cold beverages, and felicitous friends. Fresh and tasty, indeed. Truly, this enterprise stands for to all that is good in this world. Would that more of our brothers and sisters heed the call... .

Wine, Fertility, Creative Ecstasy

The Dionysian Club
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*Horn O' Plenty* 2009-07-04
		It takes a village to float a goat -- and fill a horn of plenty. That we did, good people. That we did. Once again, the Alameda 4th of July parade was a celebration of liberty and libertines, where our humble collective did parade totems of Dionysos among the good people of this non-Aegean island. With our oversized Horn O' Plenty spilling forth fresh fruit, bestowed upon a fawning crowd by Wendy the Nymph and Andrew the Great Grape, we won accolades, quizzical looks, dumbfounded glances, and the cries of babes. The inhibited recoiled whilst the free rejoiced. Another success. Alas, fickle Fate and false hopes for fuel efficiency foiled our float's finish; no flourish at the finale was ours, the failure mine. Fudge. Nonetheless, we received a second place trophy in the vehicle category. (Those pesky Andrews Sister's singing sirens on the USS Hornet float took first.) Not sure whether the approbation of the judges is a credit or curse, but the wonderful horniness of the Horn O' Plenty and the USS Hornet were both duly recognized -- and for that we will credit the aesthetic evolution of Alameda. Floatastic. There are many people to thank for this collective effort. The Goatillac superstructure was a triumph of engineering orchestrated by The Great Shiraz. Sir Andrew was the picture of efficiency in leading the charge on cornucopia construction. Screwdriver Alan provided craftiness, reliability, the PA system, and drove us on. And to all 13 Riders of the Apocalypso, with their flagellating palm fronds and many works of art, we owe our gratitude: Honey Bee, Bonky Dog, Mr. Shiney Pants, El Chupacabre, Queen Circe, The Great Shiraz, Lord Herrick, Boy Boucheron, Mikey Mike, Sustainable Susan, The Satyrical One, Dynamo Dave, and Anna the Belle. All hail! And let us knot forget FeelGood Rick, mad conductor on skates, who punished the pavement with his flailing frond and fancy footwork, eliciting with his gyrations calls from the crowd for a bit of spanking. O, happy day! En fin, our crippled chariot found safe harbor on Bay Street, conveniently close to our post partum party place. As our charming nymph danced off into the Central Avenue Forest, the rest retired to langourously lounge on a local lawn, consuming fresh grilled dorado, fistfuls of fruit, and fine fermented refreshment. 'Twas a landscape marked by hot pants, warm sun, a cool breeze, cold beverages, and felicitous friends. Fresh and tasty, indeed. Truly, this enterprise stands for to all that is good in this world. Would that more of our brothers and sisters heed the call... .
Wine, Fertility, Creative Ecstasy