We have an LA public television institution, Huell Howser, who specializes in unearthing and publicizing the most boring places on earth. He's a ten-foot tall Tennessee transplant who gives tours through diaper laundries (no kidding) and egg nog dairies, ditches, compost piles, parking lots. Likely some stories there, but none HH will ever find, 'cause he ain't looking for anything beyond, "So you've parked your car in this same spot for how many years?"
I met Huell once, and as Vanda would say, he butters his bread on both sides. But he knows how to keep the sticky side up.
Can't get enough of him, though. "So how many dy-ah-pers do do you think you've warshed in twenty years?" or the hard-hitting, "Kin you tell me if thare's any eygs in eyg nog?" All the while, a look of mentally-challenged amazement on his face, often accompanied by a hushed "Gawrsh." And he ends the shows schilling for his dvd's, "A great gift for your local lahbrury..."
So how many years of the Salute to The Toenail Clipper float-sponsored by Rite-Aid do we have left in the Rose Bowl hopper? Lots, perhaps. The Rose Parade is way too disingenuous. Yet like Huell, curiously, it continues to sell.