Do we hold these truths to be self-evident? The answer may surprise you.

So get a load of this: I spent the last two weeks researching this topic, and you know those headlines where it’s like, “Do you know the answer to this seemingly mundane question? The answer may surprise you?” Well that was me. The answer surprised me. The question was this: How do other countries celebrate the Fourth of July. And much like a bowling ball being dropped off an overpass onto my windshield, or the ending of the movie Seven, the answer surprised me. Other countries do not celebrate the Fourth of July.

I go batshit ballistic for seasonal decor sales.

I go batshit ballistic for seasonal decor sales.

What the fuck is that all about? I thought the world was getting smaller. I thought we were all learning to respect each other’s beliefs and ways of life. I mean, we showed up for the World Cup. We got matching uniforms, we spelled our last names correctly on the back – we’re at least trying to take part in things that we don’t really understand. The least you could do is take a break from your free healthcare and superior rail systems and walk a mile in our shoes – which are awesome by the way. Our shoes can sync up with our phones and tell us how many steps we’ve taken, and can vibrate every few minutes to wake us up if we slip into a coma. WE thought of that, OK?  But shout out to China for stitching the shoes together, we couldn’t have done it without you. There, see how easy that was? Respecting other countries. Try it sometime, rest of the world! It’s the Fourth of July, man! Shoot off an M80 in your five-thousand-year-old palazzo. Make just enough money to drive to work and back every day. Y’know, do something American!

And who wouldn’t want to emulate our 4th of July rituals? Drunk as hell, cooking meat outside, shooting off illegal fireworks, frantically filling red solo cups with bald eagle tears to extinguish our white picket fences as patriotic embers rain down on us. The rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air, etcetera. We’re all wearing pristine white undershirts with packs of cigarettes rolled up in our sleeves, we’re playing stick ball in a sepia-toned dead-end street in Brooklyn during The Great Depression, we’re having a cardiac arrest in the Mall of America parking lot, WHY AREN’T OTHER COUNTRIES CELEBRATING HOW AWESOME WE ARE?

John Adams knew what was up. When congress approved the declaration of independence, he wrote to his wife Abigail and said that this will be the most memorable time in the history of America. That it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as a great anniversary festival with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, companies denying birth to control to women, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forever more.

Granted, he was referring to the second of July, the date the resolution of independence was approved, but whatever, dates barely existed in the 1700’s. There was like one guy with a rudimentary understanding of time, and you had to send him a carrier pigeon asking him what day it was. That’s America to me. Writing “what the hell day is it” on a scroll and stapling it to a pigeon and just hopin’ for the best. Will that sweet pidge ever return? The answer may surprise you.

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