I took my kids to the circus this weekend. There are few things in life I hate as much as the circus, that gaudy, shucksterrific slice of Americana whose sole purpose is not to entertain, but to give gainful employment to pederast drifters and people who like to burn things. I look at the ringmaster, who has now apparently had singing added to his list of super-annoying job duties, and I think to myself, “Good God, man. Your job is to go from town to town wearing that suit. That’s pretty much it. Have you no pride?” I guess I just don’t get the circus. Continue reading