Pluckin' Mummers

A new year rapidly approaches. One of the joys in my Philly past has been grabbing plumes from strolling minstrels on New Years Day as they paraded by in a drunken stupor playing banjos and saxophones together in disturbing, ear-piercing harmony. The costumes and make-up were enough to scare anyone away from Bowie in the Ziggy Stardust years, Lucille Ball and now Broad Street where the Mummers continue to perform one day, the first day of the year, each and every year, (weather permitting).



No wonder my sleeping troubles persist and New Year's Day is like a day of visiting clowns with shrill screaming Patti La Belles jumping and stumbling about. Maybe I can get some porcupines to jam in my pants to make the day complete.