Back in the 1990s I was part of a group of friends that put spoof entries into the National Cherry Festival’s big parade.

One year, we had a fairly notorious celebrity join our entry, riding atop the back seat of a convertible with his wife in the front passenger seat and myself behind the wheel. As we motored down the parade route, the celebrity instructed me to let him know when we were approaching the radio and TV outlets. As instructed, I did just that, and at every opportunity he changed personas from mild mannered citizen wearing a dress in a small town parade, into his more famous alter ego.

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