The Forth of July

Tomorrow rushes forth, a day devolved, dedicated to consumption.  The 4th of July, a bombastic and bastard holiday, now relegated to cheap beer, cheeseburgers, and a few minutes of colorful explosions.  Not unlike a date with me on a Friday night.  Our independence-day has been stripped of its mettle and awarded a purple heart.  It is simply a sick-day, collectively taken as a nation.  Our feigned maladies metastasized at the hand of our patriotism.

The 4th has always been a peculiar holiday to me, even as a child.  We celebrate our freedom by recreating the fear war inspires.  Frightfully awakened from dreaming, half blind and disoriented in the dark, with ears ringing from a nearby explosion - this is how we pay tribute to our nation's struggle.  A celebration of liberation through vicarious precariousness.

It should be a day representing great significance, remembrance and gratitude.  A day to reflect upon the strength of ideas.  Realizing there exist ideas so cherished and so esteemed that a nation fought to the death for their preservation.  In their defense men fell like rain, and in great red torrents.  Sovereign ideas command the strongest armies.

In time, those symbols fade, their meanings change.  Attritive, the air rusts our connotations, leaving them yellowed and curled like the pages of old magazines.  At almost two and one half centuries later, our notions of freedom and independence are in stark contrast to what they once were.  With liberty and justice for few.

Don't forget to drink responsibly tomorrow.  Try not to blow your fingers off with an M80.  Though, isn't it your god damned right, as an American; the freedom to drink irresponsibly and to blow your fucking fingers off with impunity.  Isn't that what our forefathers died for?