Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Happy Independence Day!

   Independence day: an American celebration of when America stopped being a Namby Pamby British-controlled colony and started its life as the self-righteous and overconfident bureaucratic clusterfuck that we've all grown to know and love. That last sentence sounds negative, doesn't it? Well, friend, you're very wrong if you think that I'm anti-'merica just because I wrote some words that appear to be anti-American. It takes a real American to realize that. Hell, I'd even say that I'm about as radically American as any mammalian vertebrate could ever claim to be.

Let me explain:

I'll never forget the moment that I chose to be an American. I can still remember, even after all these years, that white room where I stood, an ethereal avatar that was quite ghost-like in appearance, filled to the very brim with wonder and anticipation over which country I, in the form of a sperm, would choose to be dispatched to. After much deliberation and argument amongst my fellow sperm brothers, I finally made my decision. Though it was controversial and even though I had the choice to inhabit any of the countries on planet earth—and, not to mention, a few other planets as well—I made my choice to be an American sperm and to impregnate an American egg.

Sure, I could have followed the lead of the millions of Chinese sperm who chose, against the will of goodness and God himself, to propagate that disgusting commie land, China. Or I could have chosen to be amongst the legions of the third world, with their outdated technology that is only matched with their outdated beliefs. But you know what? No matter how much I would have wanted to go with the flow and choose the easy path, I didn't. I couldn't. One thing always stood in my way: good old fashioned patriotism.

I had to be an American, no matter the cost.

No matter how many conveniences would be forced upon me, nor how much food would be shoved down my gullet, I had to become an American. As I demanded to be sent to the USA, I was completely inundated with warnings about my chosen country, "No!" they exclaimed, "You can't be an American. Don't you understand that the rest of the world embodies peaceful coexistence with nature? Y'know, with the spirits of the Earth and all that. I mean, shit, have you even seen Pocahontas, Avatar, or Dances With Wolves?" My fellow sperm just couldn't understand why I would have chose something so difficult. To them, being an American would divorce me from the humble, easy lifestyle of the world's native populations. They were right. Being an American might be tough, it might even be impossible, but to us, to the Americans, we have to do it. It's in our blood.

So think about that this fourth of July, as you sit under the fireworks. Contemplate why you chose to be an American in the first place. Remember, life isn't just some random slot machine lever that gets pulled whenever two people on this planet have sex somewhere. We all chose to be where we are. I mean, c'mon, if we didn't pick exactly where we were going to be born, patriotism just wouldn't mean much, would it? Thankfully, we don't live in a world like that. Everyone gets to pick exactly where and who they'll be born to, and that's what makes the victory of being an American so, so sweet.


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