A soggy May Day. Of all the years I decide that I’m going to get to the May Day Parade extra early, the rain says “ooh, me too.” I got soaked to the bone – and my stallion parade ponytail was dripping and sloppily slinging to the side. I wrung myself out as best I could and kept it moving until the parade got underway. Even though I never completely dried out, and I’m so glad I stayed. I got my whole life from the sights and sounds of the 109th Annual May Day Parade. Parade co-host Gary “Them Yo People” Boyd didn’t let a little thing like laryngitis stop him from announcing every single participant and giving his own side commentary. He was serving Weezy Jefferson vocal cord realness, but he was a joyful kee-kee as usual to watch. Everybody pretty much showed up and showed out this year – and I’m noticing that my favorites are consistently slaying the whole parade. Diva Sweat Dance Company brought that heat with their racecar-themed outfits. The fraternities and sororities did it big with baby step shows on top of flatbed trucks and whatnot. And for those wondering who that baby Que was setting it “owt” with his future bruhs, that was Michael Jones III, the two-year-old grandson of Friendly Temple Senior Pastor Michael Jones Sr. and son of Michael Jr. Wasn’t he the cutest?! And I will be keeping my eye out to see what the Royal Lancers Drum Corps does for May Day 2020, because they slayed 2019.
A tornado on my Twilight Tuesday parade. This space right here was to be dedicated to telling you how Love Jones The Band tore down the stage for their debut as a headliner for the Missouri History Twilight Tuesday Concert Series. I was a little birdie at the final rehearsal, and they were going to give us life more abundantly with their show that brought in more singers and a horn trio – Tank Hughes and his crew were gonna kill it! Instead, I was sitting in the bathroom with my head between my knees. Okay, I’m only flexible enough to get my chin to my chest, but you get my drift. I will be sure to hip y’all to the reschedule, because if it goes down even remotely how they were planning for it Love Jones The Band will blow y’all away worse than that twister that had the National Weather Service texting me with alerts every five seconds like a thirsty ex. Stay tuned for the make-up date.
Boosie about town. I’m surprised I didn’t see the artist formerly known as Lil Boosie bopping down Market to “Wipe Me Down” as part of the parade, because he was all over the city ahead of his show Sunday night at The Ambassador. He was perched at the Posh Shoe Bar for a meet and greet Sunday afternoon and had it bursting at the seams – and was mixing and mingling with the folks in the down to earth way that makes me have a special place in my heart for those type of celebs. It was quite the cute up close and personal celebrity event. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to give a recap of the concert. I got there kind of early and decided to double-back to the house for a quick cat nap before he showed up. Well, thanks to being worn down by the May Day festivities, that cat nap turned into a grizzly bear hibernation. I barely got up to get my nephew off to school Monday morning. I didn’t hear anything bad about the show, and when I drove off the lot for my ill-fated nap, the parking lot of the Ambassador was pretty full, so I’m going to assume he had a packed house and gave the people what they wanted while on stage.
A not so funny thing happened at the comedy show. So, Saturday night I made it my business to head to Westport to check out Jordan Rock weekend engagement at the Funny Bone. Before I get started on what happened at the show, let me say how wonderful it felt to be welcomed with opened arms by the Funny Bone staff and management after being suddenly treated any old kind of way for the past few months every time I try to stop by Helium to show love to the black comics when they come through. After I took my seat, a couple sat down next to me and everything was cool – until opening act Stephon Hightower mentioned the Ferguson protest to frame one of his jokes. He mentioned Michael Brown and the man booed. He mentioned getting tear-gassed and the man applauded. The joke ended up tickling my table neighbor’s racist bone instead of his funny bone. It was such a trigger for him to start being a bigot that he referred to comedian Michael D’Bey as “boy.” I said, “Wow, that’s offensive.” And he decided to keep it up. I said to myself I was going to let him know he was out-of-pocket after the show. He tried it with Jordan Rock, but he called him out about it – which I secretly think is what he was hoping for. The glorious thing was Jordan was so smooth with it that the good ole boy didn’t even get to make a scene. After he told dude he was being disrespectful and needed a black friend so he can know what to say – and what not to say – he just carried on with the rest of his set and the racist dude didn’t even get a chance to continue getting loud. He was so irritated that he didn’t get the racially motivated outburst of his dreams that he and his lady got up and left early. My soul wouldn’t allow him to leave without me telling him that calling a black man boy is offensive. He told me that his best friend is black – and that he calls his bff boy, and the “boy” calls him “cracker.” Then he told me to mind my business. I told him if he wouldn’t have been being a racist, he could have had all of his business to himself. His lady got between me and him and lovingly nudged him out the door. Jordan was hilarious again until all those shots of alcohol the audience kept sending him kicked in.