Today, I was covering the annual Martin Luther King Jr. parade through Downtown Ft. Worth.

This year’s parade had added significance because of the officer who was suspended for arresting a woman who had originally called for help last month.

I started sidling up to people along the parade route. We’d talk about how that case shows the importance of King’s legacy and how they hope these parades can help their kids learn his significance. They’d also say they were glad to have a lighter day with their kids where they could just listen to the bands and have a good time.

But here’s the thing:

These bands really caused me and, I assume, everyone else in Ft. Worth to fret.

The first high school was Southwest. They kicked things off with “Funkytown.”

Then, I noticed, they played “Funkytown” again. As a journalist, I realized it was my responsibility to keep following them and see what else they played. Along Houston Street, I saw a photographer from the Star-Telegram.

“They keep playing ‘Funkytown,'” I explained. “That’s the fourth time I’ve heard it.”

He continued taking pictures. I assume so they wouldn’t realize we were wise to their scam.

What would happen next is completely true, and I can prove it:

I thought there may have been some sort of connection that linked Martin Luther King and “Funkytown,” so I googled it.

Martin Luther King does not have a connection to “Funkytown.”

I continued investigating, though. I was in the marching band in high school myself, after all, at least until I was kicked out for rabble-rousing, so I should be able to figure this thing out.

Again and again, they just kept playing “Funkytown.”

To distract me, other bands started playing that one song that goes, “buh-buh BAH-bah … HEY!”

They were successful. I would then start asking people, random people who were just there to watch a parade, if they knew what that song was called.

They would furrow their eyebrows and go back to enjoying the music.

So I tweeted about it.

I was also texting our midday anchor about this marching band situation.

We were almost to the end of the parade, though, so when I got to the Plaza, I went up to a flute player for the Everman High School band (I knew it was Everman because I had googled their colors) and asked what, specifically, that song is called, “You know, the one that goes ‘buh-buh BAH-bah … HEY!'”

She explained that it’s “Rock n Roll Part 2.”

I then started talking about “Rock n Roll Part 2” with the other reporters. One said, “by Gary Glitter.”

“Ah, that’s right!” I replied.

These are the biggest issues that face Downtown Ft. Worth.