[Editor's warning: The following contains language not suitable for all readers, to include (per Dada) " small children and faux patriots who wear lapel flags during working hours on Wall Street or capitol hill in Washington, D.C." Apparently Dada celebrates this 4th of July with a patriotic fervor that's never been stronger. The result is a rant by one desperately in search of his former nation. Hence, it may contain vernacular in the rare Spirit of '76 (i.e., an occasional obscenity), of Revolution , that today's holiday used to represent. ~Editor Sam]
Happy Fourth of July to everyone! Will tonight be the traditional evening of fireworks set off in celebration of another national birthday? I'm concerned with a number of revelers who use this occasion, not as display of their patriotism, but instead to impart to progeny their latent desires for pyromania.
In looking online at rockets and Roman candles, I came across a nice explosive called the "Ultimate Fear." It's described in part as "nearly 120 Decibels of pure Testosterone!" So not only are the pyros igniting these ear crackers blind to the real patriotism the holiday was originally intended to represent, now they can become deaf to it as well!
Well, last night a friend, from the barricades downtown that Mrs. Dada frequents faithfully every Friday to demonstrate for peace, invited us to her home. It's a nice, traditional gathering the first Thursday of each month in the summers and serves a dual purpose -- party of like minds and, this election year, a strategy party for democrats in '08.
But no longer a card carrying member of the party, I could not, in clear conscience, go. I would have been an impostor in sheep's clothing!
Besides, being the third of July, I decided to hang here at the house with editor Sam in case there was an outbreak of patriot pyromania. (Actually, "patriots" my ass. If patriots, we'd be in the middle of the Revolution already. It's a total misnomer, yet pyromaniacs indeed!)
Surprisingly the neighborhood was totally silent all night! Not one explosion. "DO YOU SUPPOSE," I thought, "the Depression's finally come home to roost. People have no money to burn?!" Oh my god, how unAmerican would that be?
Although I just saw one of those Wall Street "suits" on TV before leaving for a long weekend in the Hamptons with his little American flag stuck up his *lapel* telling all of us there's no recession because the economy grew by 1% last quarter!
Tell that to the homeless from the housing bubble that's blown up in their faces, a banking industry on a precipice of total collapse, the airlines fighting to survive their crashes , thousands of dismissed auto workers and all others struggling with soaring food and fuel costs under a government hemorrhaging red ink while white-assed Wall Street suits assure us, blue in the face, this is not a recession!
Those *bleeping* assholes! I have a suggestion where they can cram that Pablum they continue to feed us, because I ain't swallowing their bullshit.
Which brings me back to an earlier point: Where's the freakin' Revolution? Huh? Where are all those fucking *patriots* scaring the hell and blowing the shit out of Nature out there tonight. What the fuck are they doing the other 364 days each year? As Thomas Jefferson pondered, "What country before ever existed a century and a half without a rebellion?"
If those folks can't blow their wads on cherry bombs this year, if they're sitting at home on their asses wondering if the Suburban will make it all the way into work Monday, maybe they ought to be out in the streets tonight breaking shit and demonstrating the true spirit of Revolution, the true meaning of the holiday! Huh?
From Dada and Sam, my editor, "Happy Fourth of July everyone!"