Happy Fifth of July!
I didn’t really notice much in the way of fireworks last night. I don’t think that’s due to a lack of patriotism from my fellow Texans — more likely, it’s because (thanks to five weeks of 100°+ temperatures and almost no rain) the entire city is constructed of kindling, gas stations, and matchheads at the moment.
But the idea of showing one’s patriotism with fireworks has always been a little funny to me. Hey, I like blowing shit up as much as the next guy, but lighting off some cheap, Chinese-made cocktails of phosphorus and cordite while screaming “America is awesome” doesn’t really strike me as patriotic. It’s nationalistic, sure. But… I don’t know. Seems to me that patriotism shouldn’t be something displayed, but rather something reflected in actions.
Maybe working hard. Maybe respecting those in the armed forces. Maybe not mindlessly consuming and growing obese, but instead asking questions and growing smarter. These things seem more patriotic to me — bettering ourselves and by extension our nation — than taking one day to get hammered, throw on a T-shirt with a flag on it, and blow stuff up.
Just one of the many pointless thoughts I had here in the early hours of the Fifth.
Don’t worry. I’ll make the next blog about monkeys or something.