The villainous (and Communist) inventor of the calendar, the one who allowed the 4th of July to take place on a Thursday, should be put to death by anal detonation with a cartoon stick of dynamite. Wile E. Coyote will wear an executioner's mask and light the fuse. I can already see the black ashen silhouette of a man, slowly crumbling like an Oreo cookie, with a cinder cylinder in his ass resembling the cardboard of a depleted roll of toilet paper, peeled outward like a banana. That would be a 4th of July spectacle. I'd sell souvenir t-shirts that read "4th of July Blow-Out!" But really, why have a national holiday on a Thursday when most people will have to return to work the next day? It's cruel. It's unusual. It's un-American.
A quick google search reveals this man to be the author of the Gregorian Calendar. Go figure, the calendar was designed with the intention of making it easier for the Catholic Church to track important religious dates. It's also useful for priests, when trying to keep their court-dates for arraignment - those pesky child-molestation charges.
The fireworks are beginning to bang. Either that or bombs are bursting. I'm going to get really stoned and pretend a gang of dirty red-coats have my location surrounded. I'll need weapons. Fuck, I don't have any. I'll need a diversion. I think I'll take off all of my clothes and set a brillo-pad on fire, waving it around in the air, screaming. No, that sounds like it'll get me shot. I'll be dead with my dick hanging out all covered in blood, like a hotdog smothered in ketchup; the rocket's red glare.
What if I cooked up some hotdogs and dangled them out the open window as a warning; the dismembered members of the last gang of invading Brits; so gallantly streaming.
Queue the colorful explosions.
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