Anne: Parade Pandemonium is Dull

🪶 From the Cage: Anne T. Parrot Responds to Parade Pandemonium

By Anne T Parrot

Well, I just returned from a very necessary trip—part relaxation, part reconnaissance. A brief respite among tasteful company, cultured squawkers, and yes, one minor gala in a marble rotunda that happened to serve caviar on patriotic doilies. (Don’t act shocked. It’s called networking.) I return to my perch, rejuvenated, only to discover that my fellow “journalist” Karen T. Parrot has spent my absence launching a two-week tip campaign leading up to the Parade Formerly Known as Flag Day.

Two. Weeks. Of Tips.

As if the world asked, “What would Miss Chicken Salad at Room Temperature do?”

And what, pray tell, is Tip #1? “Drink more water.”

Truly revolutionary stuff. I suppose next we’ll be told to breathe in, breathe out, and avoid twirling batons while dizzy.

I have stared into the abyss of spectacle before—but never one quite so thirsty. Karen, dear, this is not service journalism. This is a pamphlet from the waiting room of a bird chiropractor. “Hydrate or die-drate,” she probably thinks is clever. It sounds like something my grandfather would’ve muttered while polishing his seed grinder.

And yet—brace yourselves—it’s working. Her posts are performing. The engagement is through the perch. Followers are squawking, resharing, reacting. Apparently, repetition and self-importance now pass as public service announcements. I knew the national discourse was brittle, but this is like watching a wet cracker collapse in real time.

It’s also deeply undignified.
The relentless cheerleading for Our Jumbo Parrot (or is it Our Jubilant Parade?) is exhausting. Do these birds not hear themselves? Forty-five million dollars on a birthday parade and we’re getting heatstroke prevention tips from the bird who once fainted in a Hobby Lobby candle aisle? It’s laughable. It’s dangerous. It’s Karen.

Meanwhile, the rest of us—those who still remember decorum, restraint, and maybe not monetizing every feathered thought—are left wondering when it became acceptable to turn national politics into a middle school pep rally.

I mean, Karen is treating this parade like she’s organizing a papal coronation. Except instead of incense and reverence, we’re getting visor suggestions and water bottle monograms.

Let me be perfectly clear:
We are not the same bird.

Yes, technically we came from the same clutch. But spiritually, intellectually, and aesthetically, I molt in a different direction.

She nests in hysteria.
I dwell in analysis.
She’s all about megaphones.
I prefer microphones.
And she can keep her parade tips—I’ll be here issuing warnings.

Because if what I saw out there is any indication, this country is not marching toward greatness. It is goose-stepping toward garishness. The flags are too big, the drums are too loud, and the parrot calls too scripted.

Still, I will stay on this perch. I will report. I will roll my eyes in full view of the flock. Because someone must.

And when Tip #6 is “Don’t forget your sunscreen,” I will be here.
When Tip #10 is “Salute early to avoid the rush,” I will still be here.
When Tip #14 is just the words “God. Bless. OJP.” in glitter font, I will still be here—typing, glaring, and sipping iced espresso like a civilized bird.

Because while the others perform, some of us still prefer to observe.

Feathers crossed,
Anne T. Parrot
Opinion Columnist | The Parrot News
“We squawk the quiet part out loud. And we do it with better grammar.”

🎉 BOOK SIGNING ANNOUNCEMENT: Hydration Not Required 🦜
While some parrots hand out water bottles and sunstroke tips in honor of Our Jubilant Pomp (OJP), I’ll be doing something useful—signing copies of my book Clipped Wings & Sharp Opinions for those who still value critical thought over confetti.

📍 Big Box Bookstore – Perchside Pavilion, East Hampton (strategically west of the Karen Zone)
🗓️ This Sunday at 2:00 PM sharp
🎁 First 20 attendees receive a “Karen Is Not My Flockmate” tote and a commemorative eye-roll card personally stamped with my disapproval.

Come for the literary integrity. Stay because you refuse to salute on command.
No hydration reminders. No parade talk. No exceptions.

— Anne T. Parrot, still dry, still dignified.