America: Love It or Leave It You Pinko Commie Scum

Be kind to your web-footed friends,
For that duck may be somebody's mother. . .

That, and the theme music to Monty Python's Flying Circus, are really about all John Philip Sousa is good for, if you ask me. Bah Humbug! I feel like a subversive midsummer Scrooge.

I've never really been much into the Fourth of July. Even when I was a child it seemed alarmingly jingoistic (of course, I grew up during an era when people would say "Better Dead than Red!" and mean it). Fireworks are all right, but not that exciting, except for the big loud ones which give me heart palpitations; and I'm not all that crazy about big picnics. The breeze keeps blowing your hair into your food, there are ants and bees and flies and warmish canned beer, and people keep trying to feed you watermelon, which in my opinion comes just below Belgian waffles as far as pointless, vaguely food-related substances go. At least you don't have to spit out the waffle seeds.

New Year's Eve, now, that's a holiday I can really sink my teeth into. You have all the cool symbolism of new beginnings, plus you get to dress up all sparkly, dance, drink champagne, and kiss people. Why can't Fourth of July be more like that?

I had to come back and edit this to add that the 78704th of July Parade, down East Side Drive in Travis Heights, included a Flying Spaghetti Monster surrounded by an entourage of pirates. How awesome is that? Hurrah for the red, white and blue!