Independence Day is special to me, as it should be to all Americans. I can only imagine what it felt like back in the late 1700s when our founding fathers told England to piss off, that they couldn't have our guns, because we're one nation under God, indivisible, with inalienable rights goddamn it if that isn't the truth.
But sadly. I found that that spirit is fading. Fourth of July is more about fireworks and parades than telling the British where they can jam their tyranny. Here's a perfect example. I was at a small town Independence Day festival. Later in the day there were going to be fireworks, so people had their blankets out staking a spot. This is something I can get behind, and I'll tell you why. It's AMERICAN, and if you don't like it, too goddamn bad.
Look. I'll let everybody in on a little secret. Its two words. Manifest Destiny. Look it up. Educate your damn selves.
So I start looking for a spot to put down my stake on the left field grass. I like fireworks just as much as the next guy. I don't like being next to whiny ass children though, so I had to get a good spot. Just as I was putting up my tent (it's a special one, with insulated walls, two rooms and a moon roof) some limey bastard comes up to me and starts telling me how I can't do it. British through and through. He said something like "Scuse me guvna, I think you might be wantin to put that somewheres else." So I asked him if he knew the history. If he knew how we told England to get the hell back to their gloomy little island, but then still had the decency to bail them out when they were shaking in their little booties because the Nazis were running around in their goofy uniforms and doing their little hand waves.
He got angry. And this is just like an Englishman. He started stomping on my tent. Then he picked up some pieces of my tent and hucked them into the road.
Of course, I couldn't do anything, because before I knew it the police were there. I managed to flee, but as I hopped the fence, I think I saw a little girl crying, and I like to think she was crying about America being stepped on by some rotten tooth Brit with an ax to grind.
Letter to Hospital
Dear [redacted] Hospital
Two days ago I was in with severe lacerations to my abdomen. You made me wait in the waiting room for four hours, which would have been alright given that the people already in the waiting room didn't have cholera. I could feel the sickness working its way into my wounds.
As if that wasn't enough. The nurse was terrible at her job. I am not a mannequin. But she thought she was making a dress and not stitching up a taxpaying American citizen. She finally closed the wound and I looked down and there were only a few stitches in there. I said don't you think that's too few stitches? And she said nothing. I said don't treat me like an illegal immigrant, give me enough stitches so that my wound will heal. Hell if you're only going to put four stitches in there I might as well tape it with duct tape. So she put more in.
There's thirty seven in there now. This cut isn't opening up for a long time. But you see the point I'm trying to make here, Mr. Hospital Administrator? I am an American citizen being treated like I just jumped over the border. My name isn't Javier. My name is [redacted].
Respond with a settlement offer. Or I'll be taking this to the Supreme Court.
Signed,
[Redacted]
Two days ago I was in with severe lacerations to my abdomen. You made me wait in the waiting room for four hours, which would have been alright given that the people already in the waiting room didn't have cholera. I could feel the sickness working its way into my wounds.
As if that wasn't enough. The nurse was terrible at her job. I am not a mannequin. But she thought she was making a dress and not stitching up a taxpaying American citizen. She finally closed the wound and I looked down and there were only a few stitches in there. I said don't you think that's too few stitches? And she said nothing. I said don't treat me like an illegal immigrant, give me enough stitches so that my wound will heal. Hell if you're only going to put four stitches in there I might as well tape it with duct tape. So she put more in.
There's thirty seven in there now. This cut isn't opening up for a long time. But you see the point I'm trying to make here, Mr. Hospital Administrator? I am an American citizen being treated like I just jumped over the border. My name isn't Javier. My name is [redacted].
Respond with a settlement offer. Or I'll be taking this to the Supreme Court.
Signed,
[Redacted]
Tuesday
So. I'm back. There was an episode with my administrator. A scuffle if you will. It turned ugly. I lunged at him with the intent to strangle him. And the little bastard kicked a table in front of me. I fell right through it. It's a glass top table. I had to get thirty seven stitches in my abdomen. And I broke my left arm. The good news is, the hospital has plenty of stationary for me to write things down on. Or had, anyway. I requisitioned a whole stack for my own personal use.
I'm writing this post in between letters to the hospital administrator. They treated me with complete disrespect, and I'm going to let them know about it.
As for my administrator. The communist little bastard. Sneaky like a Chinaman too. He may prove useful, but I'm keeping an eye on him.
I'm writing this post in between letters to the hospital administrator. They treated me with complete disrespect, and I'm going to let them know about it.
As for my administrator. The communist little bastard. Sneaky like a Chinaman too. He may prove useful, but I'm keeping an eye on him.
Out of Paper
[The following was recorded without [redacted]'s knowledge. It was a conversation between the two of us, after I confronted him about not writing for several days]
[redacted]: Look, I don't know where you're going with this whole blog thing. You seem a little too excited about it. You know, write, write, write. I'm not an idiot, alright? It means one of two things, you're trying to assassinate me, or you're trying to fuck me. Either one, I won't abide.
No, see, don't give me that. You've got that twinkle in your eye. That liberal twinkle, looks like a pair of rose colored glasses, well it ain't happening. If you're going to assassinate me, you'll have to assassinate my rifle here. And if its the other, well, good luck. Every try to wrestle a bear? I was state wrestling champion in high school. I've bitten people's noses off for less, don't think I won't maim you.
[I'm not here to kill you]
It doesn't matter. If you try anything you're dead. Want another helping of herring? Vita is a damn fine brand. Just the right acidity. No, see, you've got some communist tendencies. I saw what you were reading the other day. Went through you're little backpack, or whatever. I saw Dostoywhateversky Commie propoganda.
[They're just books. Do you have something against books?]
Don't sass me. I'm still about a cunt hair away from killing you, understand? But you know, you're young, so it's forgivable. Have you ever read the Constitution of the United States? Have you read the Federalist Papers? Hell it just goes to show that there's a lack of education in this country. Communist teachers handing out Maos book and that Russian guy. Marx.
[Do you think the President is a communist?]
You mean Hoop Dreams? Mr. I was born in America even though my name is Hussein? Mr. I don't have time to talk to congress about going to war because I've got a tee time and then some pickup basketball? He's a fourth generation communist. His sole purpose in life is to drive America into the ground.
[You realize how ridiculous that sounds?]
Well, you're young. And stupid. Maybe you'll see the light, maybe you won't. It's like that book. The Cave or something? Platonic something or other. Platonic Affairs? I don't know. The Beach, that's it. Where the people are all in the cave. They made it into a movie with DiCaprio.
[You mean Plato's cave?]
Don't sass me. I won't be made a fool of.
[inaudible]
I'll strangle the red right out of you.
[loud crashing noises. screams of pain.]
[end of tape]
[redacted]: Look, I don't know where you're going with this whole blog thing. You seem a little too excited about it. You know, write, write, write. I'm not an idiot, alright? It means one of two things, you're trying to assassinate me, or you're trying to fuck me. Either one, I won't abide.
No, see, don't give me that. You've got that twinkle in your eye. That liberal twinkle, looks like a pair of rose colored glasses, well it ain't happening. If you're going to assassinate me, you'll have to assassinate my rifle here. And if its the other, well, good luck. Every try to wrestle a bear? I was state wrestling champion in high school. I've bitten people's noses off for less, don't think I won't maim you.
[I'm not here to kill you]
It doesn't matter. If you try anything you're dead. Want another helping of herring? Vita is a damn fine brand. Just the right acidity. No, see, you've got some communist tendencies. I saw what you were reading the other day. Went through you're little backpack, or whatever. I saw Dostoywhateversky Commie propoganda.
[They're just books. Do you have something against books?]
Don't sass me. I'm still about a cunt hair away from killing you, understand? But you know, you're young, so it's forgivable. Have you ever read the Constitution of the United States? Have you read the Federalist Papers? Hell it just goes to show that there's a lack of education in this country. Communist teachers handing out Maos book and that Russian guy. Marx.
[Do you think the President is a communist?]
You mean Hoop Dreams? Mr. I was born in America even though my name is Hussein? Mr. I don't have time to talk to congress about going to war because I've got a tee time and then some pickup basketball? He's a fourth generation communist. His sole purpose in life is to drive America into the ground.
[You realize how ridiculous that sounds?]
Well, you're young. And stupid. Maybe you'll see the light, maybe you won't. It's like that book. The Cave or something? Platonic something or other. Platonic Affairs? I don't know. The Beach, that's it. Where the people are all in the cave. They made it into a movie with DiCaprio.
[You mean Plato's cave?]
Don't sass me. I won't be made a fool of.
[inaudible]
I'll strangle the red right out of you.
[loud crashing noises. screams of pain.]
[end of tape]
Politics
Here's what I've decided. There are two types of people in the world. People who support the Tea Party and then there's this other lump of idiots.
The title of this blog says it all. If you haven't guessed, I'm a supporter of liberty. I didn't mean to make this a political blog, but it has become increasingly clear that America needs a shove in the right direction, and I am here to give it to them. Enough about this stuff about my day to day life. It's election season.
I love the founding fathers. I sleep with an image of Thomas Jefferson on the ceiling above my bed. In my bathroom, I've got pictures of John Adams and Thomas Paine. They help me organize my thoughts when I start and end my day. Furthermore, I have the federalist papers scattered in various areas of my house and I read them from time to time. (I don't tell people this, but once, once, I dressed up as George Washington to have sex with my wife, which she poo-poo'd because she said it made me look to old. To which I said, that's the point. He was around hundreds of years ago.) This was my first wife, an idiot.
But I see too many people running around supporting that socialist, Obama. When did people stop caring about personal liberties and wanting to pay taxes. All of a sudden people want to make DC a state when it SAYS IN THE FEDERALIST PAPERS that DC is to remain a district. Why do we need to pay taxes? So Obama can take away our guns? So Obama can fly around in his jet and play golf anytime he wants? He's trying to turn us into communist China for chrissakes.
More on this to come. I've got the game paint on.
The title of this blog says it all. If you haven't guessed, I'm a supporter of liberty. I didn't mean to make this a political blog, but it has become increasingly clear that America needs a shove in the right direction, and I am here to give it to them. Enough about this stuff about my day to day life. It's election season.
I love the founding fathers. I sleep with an image of Thomas Jefferson on the ceiling above my bed. In my bathroom, I've got pictures of John Adams and Thomas Paine. They help me organize my thoughts when I start and end my day. Furthermore, I have the federalist papers scattered in various areas of my house and I read them from time to time. (I don't tell people this, but once, once, I dressed up as George Washington to have sex with my wife, which she poo-poo'd because she said it made me look to old. To which I said, that's the point. He was around hundreds of years ago.) This was my first wife, an idiot.
But I see too many people running around supporting that socialist, Obama. When did people stop caring about personal liberties and wanting to pay taxes. All of a sudden people want to make DC a state when it SAYS IN THE FEDERALIST PAPERS that DC is to remain a district. Why do we need to pay taxes? So Obama can take away our guns? So Obama can fly around in his jet and play golf anytime he wants? He's trying to turn us into communist China for chrissakes.
More on this to come. I've got the game paint on.
The worst day of my life
Two nights ago, I was enjoying my usual snack of Lays Potato Chips and Budweiser and watching a boxing match on TV. Boxing, for me, is one of the greatest sports around. None of those sissy uniforms and ass grabbing. Just two guys, glistening with sweat, in the best shape of their lives, pounding the living shit out of each other. I boxed myself, some, in high school, but some punk gave me a cheap shot to the knee when the ref wasn't looking, and I haven't walked well since (bobbing and weaving around the ring was out). Sometimes I wish I'd been born a hundred years sooner, so that I could experience the real bare knuckle fights in back bars that I saw on the History Channel.
Anyway, I got a call from my wife. (I can't believe this is going public). She hasn't spoken to me since our divorce, and I assumed she was still upset about the way I acted when she told me she voted for Clinton...because he was pro choice. Can you believe that absurdity? And I guess she didn't like the way I threw her stuff out on the lawn (including her cat, that used that opportunity to run away). I never liked that cat.
But she had some new tone to her voice. She said she'd been doing some soul searching and was in a good place. But she needed a favor. I thought she needed money, but what she needed was far worse. She wanted me to be her date. We used to be amicable. It was a fundraiser for her new job, and she needed a date.
Well, it turned out that it was some kind of conversion thing. It wasn't like a party or anything. It was a church meeting. There were a dozen people sitting around in a circle, and as I was able to figure out, they were trying to use the bible to convert some of these gays to heterosexuality. Which, of course, I was all for. But I was nervous, you know, being around the gays. My first instinct was to jump up and say, "Good god, you brought me here with these people?"
The IDIOT preacher took that as a sign that I was gay. And he started going on about all this nonsense. Before I knew it the whole crowd had me bent over a chair praying to God to make me straight. Even though I was already straight and they were idiots. No matter how much I tried to tell them that it was the men in the pink sweaters and capri pants that needed this treatment, that yes, my son may have been gay but that didn't make me gay at all (liberal media got to him before I could set him straight). They didn't listen. They started hitting me with the bible, saying, "Straighten up before God" "Release your grip on the collective male organ" or something like that.
The worst day of my life. I'll never speak to my ex-wife again. And I'll tell her kids to just give her sweater vests and donations of rain forest trees in the future.
Anyway, I got a call from my wife. (I can't believe this is going public). She hasn't spoken to me since our divorce, and I assumed she was still upset about the way I acted when she told me she voted for Clinton...because he was pro choice. Can you believe that absurdity? And I guess she didn't like the way I threw her stuff out on the lawn (including her cat, that used that opportunity to run away). I never liked that cat.
But she had some new tone to her voice. She said she'd been doing some soul searching and was in a good place. But she needed a favor. I thought she needed money, but what she needed was far worse. She wanted me to be her date. We used to be amicable. It was a fundraiser for her new job, and she needed a date.
Well, it turned out that it was some kind of conversion thing. It wasn't like a party or anything. It was a church meeting. There were a dozen people sitting around in a circle, and as I was able to figure out, they were trying to use the bible to convert some of these gays to heterosexuality. Which, of course, I was all for. But I was nervous, you know, being around the gays. My first instinct was to jump up and say, "Good god, you brought me here with these people?"
The IDIOT preacher took that as a sign that I was gay. And he started going on about all this nonsense. Before I knew it the whole crowd had me bent over a chair praying to God to make me straight. Even though I was already straight and they were idiots. No matter how much I tried to tell them that it was the men in the pink sweaters and capri pants that needed this treatment, that yes, my son may have been gay but that didn't make me gay at all (liberal media got to him before I could set him straight). They didn't listen. They started hitting me with the bible, saying, "Straighten up before God" "Release your grip on the collective male organ" or something like that.
The worst day of my life. I'll never speak to my ex-wife again. And I'll tell her kids to just give her sweater vests and donations of rain forest trees in the future.
Scorched Earth
Now they're saying Mexican smugglers started the fires in Arizona.
Click This Blue Underlined Thing, I guess is how it works.
I for one believe this has gone on far too long. First they're sneaking into this country, taking our jobs away from us. Then they start bleeding us dry with all the education and the free health care. Then we have to have stupid ass habla espanol menus when I go to the bank even though my bank knows I don't speak Spanish, and wouldn't want to, ever. English is just fine with me, thanks.
Now they're burning us down. When will Washington see that this is an act of war. Washington probably should have given them California when they had a chance, but now its war. We're off fighting in the deserts halfway around the world, and we're ignoring some serious enemies to the south. Don't you know that they support terrorists too?
Its like when I used to live in Texas. (Anybody that knows me personally knows that I give Texas a lot of guff for being a hee-haw inbred cesspool of intellectual decrepitude, but they aren't so bad considering the other states that are ruining this country...I'm looking at you California and Massachusetts). Anyway, I was living in this run down little house, with a tiny little lawn and a scrawny mesquite tree in the front yard. Mexican comes by one day says he can trim that tree for twenty bucks. I think that's a fine deal. I was younger then, and didn't realize that he was probably an illegal.
So I pay him the money. And next thing he's inside, wants a drink. I say sure, there's Lone Star beer in the fridge. He says he wants a Corona. I say that I can't afford imports. I'm starting to get angry now, he's disrespecting American beer. Disrespecting America is serious business. And I was always brought up to take what you get and like it, or else next time you're ungrateful little ass won't get anything at all. I say well, there's tap water there too you ungrateful bastard. He takes the beer. Then he asks me if I have anything to eat. I say shut the hell up I'm trying to watch my taped copy of Geraldo Rivera getting hit in the face with a chair. I hear the door slam. Then the next thing I know, I smell smoke. I think the punk is smoking a cigarette in my house. No, its worse, my house is on fire, and the little sneaky bastard immigrant set it. I evacuate the premises and the illegal is nowhere to be found...I figure he was off spending my twenty dollars on Coronas at the bar.
Click This Blue Underlined Thing, I guess is how it works.
I for one believe this has gone on far too long. First they're sneaking into this country, taking our jobs away from us. Then they start bleeding us dry with all the education and the free health care. Then we have to have stupid ass habla espanol menus when I go to the bank even though my bank knows I don't speak Spanish, and wouldn't want to, ever. English is just fine with me, thanks.
Now they're burning us down. When will Washington see that this is an act of war. Washington probably should have given them California when they had a chance, but now its war. We're off fighting in the deserts halfway around the world, and we're ignoring some serious enemies to the south. Don't you know that they support terrorists too?
Its like when I used to live in Texas. (Anybody that knows me personally knows that I give Texas a lot of guff for being a hee-haw inbred cesspool of intellectual decrepitude, but they aren't so bad considering the other states that are ruining this country...I'm looking at you California and Massachusetts). Anyway, I was living in this run down little house, with a tiny little lawn and a scrawny mesquite tree in the front yard. Mexican comes by one day says he can trim that tree for twenty bucks. I think that's a fine deal. I was younger then, and didn't realize that he was probably an illegal.
So I pay him the money. And next thing he's inside, wants a drink. I say sure, there's Lone Star beer in the fridge. He says he wants a Corona. I say that I can't afford imports. I'm starting to get angry now, he's disrespecting American beer. Disrespecting America is serious business. And I was always brought up to take what you get and like it, or else next time you're ungrateful little ass won't get anything at all. I say well, there's tap water there too you ungrateful bastard. He takes the beer. Then he asks me if I have anything to eat. I say shut the hell up I'm trying to watch my taped copy of Geraldo Rivera getting hit in the face with a chair. I hear the door slam. Then the next thing I know, I smell smoke. I think the punk is smoking a cigarette in my house. No, its worse, my house is on fire, and the little sneaky bastard immigrant set it. I evacuate the premises and the illegal is nowhere to be found...I figure he was off spending my twenty dollars on Coronas at the bar.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)