For many, Independence Day is a fun occasion. People attend backyard barbecues, consume gallons of alcohol, and eventually manage to blow their faces off with illegal fireworks. And so the fun goes. Some weirdos, like myself, stay indoors and watch the biannual Twilight Zone marathon on Sci-Fi (something I've done every year since 2002).Thinking back 84,736 days ago, it's difficult to imagine a fledgling America trying to stand its ground against the all-powerful English rule. After all, now we're like some... super-badass motherfuckers. We could rule the whole world if we wanted, but—like Chuck Norris—we choose not to. With that in mind, it's hard to think about a loose, fearful group of rebels living under the constant threat of a redcoat invasion.
So, blah blah, Declaration of Independence, blah blah, Revolutionary War, blah blah; all that shit we learned in 8th grade history brings us to today. We now have the freedom to do more or less anything within the bounds of decency, including but limited to:
- being fat
- blowing off huge muthafuckin' fireworks
- owning huge muthafuckin' guns
- capturing insects and staging deathmatches between them
- talking loudly on cell phones to make everyone on the block aware that we do in fact have cell phones
- showering with Crisco while singing the Kinks' "You Really Got Me"
- et c.
Why is it that your masculine status is determined by the amount of car alarms you can set off within a three-hour span on the fourth of July? It seems the only way some men can compensate for a painfully small member is to detonate roughly a petagram of projectile explosives in their suburban yards. Formerly confined to the South (the Deep South), this tradition has now spread to most cities and rural areas in the North, as well.
In conclusion, don't get too drunk, don't shoot too many eyes out, and don't be too fuckin' annoying with those fireworks. And have a happy Independence Day.
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