Barring the plethora of annoying drunken eejits, the overwhelming stench of pot and ignorance coming from the morons mistaking Pride ’04 for a NASCAR, and the fact that neither my friend Harry nor I were imbibing anything stronger than Southern sweet tea, this year’s Pride parade was absolutely fantabulous. And here is why:

The fact that a grown man can walk down a Chicago street wearing something resembling a Divine Ms. M backup dancer’s costume without getting his ass royally kicked is truly awesome.
He posed. As well he should have. And it came with a back, too. See?

Viva la Pride!