Well, America, it has been great.
On the Fourth of July, President Trump and his followers are taking over the Mall and the Lincoln Memorial, as tanks roll down the streets and jets fly overhead. The Park Service has diverted $2.5 million to pay for this extravagance. This, apparently, is a Salute to America, some sort of combination birthday-retirement-funeral? It is unclear where America is going, but you certainly seem to be on your way out.
Since you’ve invited us to this party, America, the girls and I wanted to get together and do something sort of special before you leave for good. We all signed a card. We put our John Hancocks on it and cried, thinking back to when we first saw you, to that big document with the enormous signature and a few dozen other, smaller signatures on it, which meant that a brand-new idea was in the world.
We’ve had some times, America. Who would have thought that some 18th-century men objecting to paying taxes without representation would have been responsible for so much liberty, so many milestones and such a weird cheese?
Truly what was up with that cheese? It managed to give the impression of still being wrapped in a thin layer of plastic even when removed from its thin layer of plastic. It was always partially melted. Its aftertaste clung to the roof of your mouth for hours, long after the thing itself was gone.
Sorry, I got distracted. This day is supposed to be about you. You were very protective of your flag, but you also were chill about it when people wanted to burn it as a protest. You sort of let people do their own thing, but you had values. It was a good balance, eventually.
Oh man, remember when you gave up drinking for a hot second, though? You were a mess. I’m glad that’s not happening still.
Remember that time you built the Hoover Dam? Remember the Gold Rush? Man, remember that speech from William Jennings Bryan, about being crucified on a cross of gold? I remember we looked at each other like, is this guy for real? We can agree now that that was a little dramatic, can’t we? Woof! Remember populism? Oh man, remember “The Wizard of Oz”? Did we ever figure out what that was a metaphor for?
Remember Daniel Webster? Didn’t he make a deal with Satan, or something?
I know I complained about how you would try to get everyone to sing a song about you, and the fact that it was an unsingable drinking song! Can we all agree, now, that it was not singable? Maybe it was a metaphor.
I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s fine. I am sure whoever comes ...
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