Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Mine Eyes Have Seen The Glory
We have many sacred customs, many traditions when it comes to honoring the birth of our nation. Most of the good ones end in painful skin grafts and not a little vomiting. Whether they're caused by getting drunk and falling asleep in the summer sun or getting drunk and trying to operate a propane grill or getting drunk forgetting to let go of the lit home-made M-80 you (drunkenly) made yourself out of a tennis ball and a lot of kerosene, July 4th is all about loving America so much, we're willing to disfigure ourselves to show it. We're all like Van Gogh cutting off his ear, except instead of being crazy and Dutch, we're just American and not good at considering the long term consequences of our actions. Plus we likey the drinky.

In all seriousness, July 4th is a solemn occasion. Days like this should be spent considering what is important, what makes America great and what we can do to keep it so. For instance, in the United States Senate, they were recently debating a Constitutional amendment against flag-desecration. Because nothing says "America" like putting something in the Consitution for the sole purpose of circumventing both the letter and the spirit of the Constitution. First Amendment says "free speech?" Keep reading, hippie. Twenty-Eighth Amendment says "not so fast."

I say that in the spirit of this (sadly, failed) proposal, we honor America and her flag by wearing flag-pattern cloth to cover up our hoo-has. Show your love for your country by not showing us your nipples and/or vagina in the most patriotic way possible.

And guys, rest assured, we are not left out. There may be no Equal Rights Amendment, but that doesn't mean the marketplace can't dicatate our freedom to be every bit as tacky as the ladies. Go on, wrap a flag around your pole. Uncle Sam wants you to. It's what he'd wear if he weren't a genderless cartoon.

If you go to the beach or to the pool this July 4th, you know people are going to be looking at your junk anyways, guys and gals. Might as well give them something to think about while you're being ogled by your best friend's creepy uncle.

For my fat readers... well, I can't in good conscience recommend the same course of action for you. If there's anything Americans are more hypocritically terrified of than immigrants, it's the fatties. For you, how about an American flag poncho, like that famous Kid Rock fellow would sometimes wear? Or an Old Glory muu-muu? Or heck, a lapel pin or perhaps a jaunty star-spangled Dr. Seuss hat? You can be big, you can be proud, but we would prefer that you weren't so much both at the same time.

"Hey, what's the big deal? Americans are all fat." Well, that's just something a foreigner would say, isn't it? And the last thing we need to be reminded of our the USA's birthday are foreigners. So we stick to the arrangement: we'll pretend you're invisible while at the same time convincing ourselves that our 48-inch waistband is only slightly above average.

America is a great country. A great country. It is a country so great, it cannot survive if those among us dare to say anything not-great about it. Sticks and stones may break our bones, but saying things that might be construed as not blindly affirming every action taken by the American government both at home and abroad, well... that's a recipe for disaster. Go ahead and crticize if you want to, but know that when the Brown Man rises up out of the ashes of your fiery rhetorical wake and runs off with all our white women, there will be nobody left to read Michelle Maglalang Malkin. And that's not an America I'm prepared to live in.

This post on the Narcissus Scale: 1.776



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