Last night my dad and step-mother picked me up at my house on their way to Tallahassee to see my step-brother at his restaurant. He told us that a house in Tallahassee won an award for the best light display in the country. We had a tradition of taking in the tacky lights, so we decided we should go. We usually tour the modest neighborhoods featuring four various scale depictions of the manger scene on the lawn, one in jigsawed plywood, one inflatable, one in internally lit rotomolded plastic, and the last comprised entirely of Smurfs. But this was in the big planned golf course community of McMansions on the outskirts of town, where every house has a three car garage and a yard man with a zero turn lawn mower. It's still the Deep South, though, so the computerized light show was set to a radio transmitted sound track of patriotic country music -- Ain't no doubt I love this land, God bless the USA! This song has been the bane of my existence since Desert Storm. One of my best friends from college was over there as a Bradley commander and I was worried sick about him the whole time. I mailed him boxes of batteries and candy and electrical tape from Sam's Club once a week. The constant playing of that infernal song reduced a serious situation that required mature strategy to something embarrassing. Running shoe ads convey a better tone than that damn song. And it JUST WON'T GO AWAY.
I set my video of the light show to a different song and now it makes more sense. I shot this on my new iPhone with 1080p HD video so click the HD icon if you have high speed internet.