Yesterday was the Fourth of July. It was the Fourth of July everywhere around the world, but here in these United States of America, it was also Independence Day.
Now, traditionally, Independence Day is when good Wookie Suiters join with the loyalists of the party that's out of power and complain about how the current pack of fascist/commies are trashing everything good about this country and destroying the spirit of America: basically ruining baseball, taking a dump in the apple pie, and then wiping themselves on mom's apron. A day for long faces and mopery and essays ever-so-wittily titled "Dependence Day" and Jefferson knows I've been guilty of it myself before.
But, you know, yesterday I said "Screw all that."
Since I spend the other 364 days a year feeling doomed and teeing off on the sack of bastards that cling leech-like to the body politic and making 2012 American suburbia sound like 1972 Karl-Marx-Stadt in the DDR only with more cable channels, I took one day off to feel like an American: I rolled around in a pile of 30-round magazines like Scrooge McDuck and did some snapping-in with an AR-15; I mooned a picture of the queen of England; I read whatever the hell I wanted to, even a few pages in a book printed by the CPUSA wondering if they could beat the Army in a guerrilla war; I sang "Take Me Out to the Ball Game"; I ate a delicious beef filet about the size of my head, fresh off the grill, with a 'tater to match.
I went to bed feeling pretty darn 'Murrican, let me tell you.
Woke up and checked around the internets today and... holy cow... how did I miss this? So yesterday I did a bunch of stuff to make me feel American. Today I'm going to run to the post office... to make me feel human.