Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Not to Be a Wet Blanket but This July 4 is Bleak AF

I can't you guys. I just can't do it. I can't get excited about 'Murica's birthday. Not this year. It's barely 10:00 a.m., and I cannot even pretend to be into a 52 degrees and rainy Independence Day when I can barely see three inches in front of my face.

I'm also a little cranky due to being kept awake all night by amateur fireworks. The professional ones were cool, but no one ever wants to leave anything to the professionals anymore. From fireworking to presidenting, eeeeeveryone's an expert.

Everyone needs to use this holiday as an excuse to regress into the mentality of a 12 year old boy pyromaniac. There were several moments when I was actually convinced that a tween arsonist-in-training was lighting a Roman candle directly next to my ear, and I think I dreamed I was in Syria. 

I mean, it's a lot, is all I'm saying.

Of course, it doesn't help that the concepts of patriotism and love of country have been hijacked and misappropriated by a truly repellent, lying sociopath whose comprehension of American civics is barely scraping the School House Rock level. 

It's like, I'm not driving a Ford F-150 with 900 American flags fluttering all over it or wearing a leather jacket with an airbrushed bald eagle on the back. But both sides of my family served in the military, and I actually know what the Constitution says, so at least there's that. 

Cold comfort, I suppose, when the Trump kleptocracy has erected a Potemkin village of faux-patriotism in DC to distract us all from their systematic dismantling of everything this country stands for before our very eyes.

That's when I look over at my 6.5 year old son who is watching "DinoTrux" on Netflix, and I think to myself, it's all gonna be okay. Because there he is: the future of 'Murica. 

The target demographic for some greasy, ex-frat boy L.A. shit-bag who said to a board room full of TV executives: "What do little boys like? I know! Dinosaurs and 'trux!' Let's make a nonsensical show where we combine the two and hope their parents chalk up the preposterous anachronisms to "imagination" and sell a bunch of plastic toy tie-ins/future landfill fodder while we're at it."

It's gonna be a long July 4. I can tell already.

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