Parade-Shitters

All the time you hear people say, "Don't rain on my parade," but as my girlfriend, LSD, points out, who really likes parades, anyway? I think it's widely agreed upon that fireworks, whether done professionally or shot off very unprofessionally with no shirt or shoes and a beer in your hand, are way cooler than any stinking parade. So, don't rain on my fireworks? It doesn't quite work, does it?

LSD and I were saying how parade rainers, or as I call them, parade-shitters, can really bring you down. I'm sure you know the type: They're critical of everyone, they get annoyed when others have fun, they complain about everything, they're control freaks . . . any combination of these or any one of these to an excess would qualify as a bonafide parade shitter. Essentially, it's the person you envision when you listen to Bob Dylan sing "Positively Fourth Street," specifically the part about what a drag it is to see him/her (probably her).



So, here at The Gancer, to update this phrase, and to tie it in with the whole shit thing, here is what we shall use henceforth:

"Don't shit in my picnic basket."

You can just see it, right? Some jerk just opens up one end of your wicker basket packed with goodies and just craps all up in there, ruining everyone's afternoon with no regard for anyone but himself. That's just what the picnic-shitter does. He shit in picnic baskets.

What do you think, Seven Readers? Would you like to contribute a phrase of your own in the comments?