House of Eratosthenes

Rick found something to pair up with our own tongue-in-cheek bitching we were doing yesterday…it’s an aging sourpuss Philadelphia Inquirer baby-boomer who wants us to “put the fireworks in storage” — because he says so.

Same ol’ nonsense. Terrorists cut off the heads of our journalists in front of a camcorder…we drip some water down someone’s nose and we’re supposed to wring our hands in paralyzing guilt for becoming “like them.” Oh, I think if becoming like them is the class assignment, a grade of C-minus would be exceedingly generous.

This year, America doesn’t deserve to celebrate its birthday. This Fourth of July should be a day of quiet and atonement.

For we have sinned.

Blah blah blah. You know the drill.

Blackfive found another internationalist pompous jackass sycophant, this one a Gen-X-er. Actually, I don’t know that. Matthew Rothschild could be ninety, for all I know. But these people are always sycophants. Ever notice that? You can’t just sit quietly and cluck your tongue about how ashamed “America” should be of herself, and keep it to yourself. This stuff always has to be advertised.

They know not what they say about themselves. What kind of person sits and stews about Abu Ghraib while we liberate Iraq? It’s impossible to reasonably conclude that this resentment against the USA is the product of any kind of thinking; it was the point going in. These are people filled with hate because they want to be — and they want the whole world to know.

So it’s rich material. Every time.

It’s July 4th again, a day of near-compulsory flag-waving and nation-worshipping. Count me out.

Spare me the puerile parades.

Don’t play that martial music, white boy.

And don’t befoul nature’s sky with your F-16s.

You see, I don’t believe in patriotism.

It’s not that I’m anti-American, but I am anti-patriotic.

Love of country isn’t natural. It’s not something you’re born with. It’s an inculcated kind of love, something that is foisted upon you in the home, in the school, on TV, at church, during the football game.

Yet most people accept it without inspection.

Why?

Er…an old-fashioned concept called gratitude?

Like this —

I am so thankful to have been born into a country given to such extreme heights of productivity, capable of providing so much opportunity and comfort for those living within it, that people utterly devoid of talent can afford what surely must be the ultimate luxury: Pretending it’s cool to be an ingrate.

And…I don’t give a good God-damn who knows I’m thankful for that, and who doesn’t. It’s something that simply is. This country is truly great. It cannot be denied. We get more than our share of bitching, way more, and like the winner of that six-word slogan contest said: Our worst critics prefer to stay.

Happy birthday, and many more.

Actually, if you would ignore an obvious attention whore as this person, the sooner they would fall into the dustbin.

Boil it down. I’m an Hilbertian type.

Main Thing I Know: People who disdain poweful messages, seek power for themselves.
- Allen L | 07/03/2008 @ 21:19

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True Greatness Inspires Lots of BitchingThursday, July 3rd, 2008

True Greatness Inspires Lots of Bitching
Thursday, July 3rd, 2008