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 Editorials | Opinions | July 2005 
Born After the 4th of July
 Thomas@ConsumptionJunction.com
Happy Independence Day, my American compatriots.
And what a glorious day of independence this is, perched at the head of a table of Midwest drunks, debating the virtues and vices of an administration gone wrong. Sometimes, I sit here and wonder where those 229 years have gone, watching this fledgling nation grow into the international powerhouse we now enjoy.
Who would have thought, all those centuries ago, that a sorry boatload of ultra-conservative Pilgrims would have started this self-righteous regime of military firepower and religious rule? How much more ironic could it be, that a batch of "rebels" looking to escape their government would face an ocean and start anew, only to slowly become the object of their own hatred?
Oops, almost forgot, this is a holiday for patriots, and as we all know, patriots never question the motives nor the decisions of those in charge.
So with a fistful of Guiness draft imported from Ireland, and smoking American Spirit cigarettes named after a long dead redskin, I have to stop and ask: Exactly from whom are we celebrating this independence? I mean, as an American in this dark day and age, I've found myself anything but independent. Sure, I sit in the safe boundaries of this Great Nation, getting paid green American dollars to post on American website, but American politicians have recently passed laws to shut asylums like this down. And most of the crazy fuckers responsible for this place have since moved overseas, anyways.
Christ, I drove an imported Japanese vehicle to the bar, fueled by Saudi Arabian oil, and I'm wearing a Hawaiian shirt sewn together by young Third World Asian hands. My shoes were stitched together in the Philippines, the glass I'm drinking from was wraught in France, and the basketball players prancing across the television screen have Islamic names. Believe it or not, the very code utilized for you to read this words and enjoy this fancy new interface was put together by Panamians and Philipinos for trivial installations of money.
The drugs to which I've become addicted are a product of Peru, and the vodka I'm pouring down the throat of this woman is imported from Sweden. Could it be possible, in all this vanity and self-worship, that a day dedicated to a document some two hundred years ago is just a sham? Perhaps in the same manner that the King depends upon the taxes of his rulers to live his life of luxury, that we sit on this throne funded not by our own taxes but by the efforts of seemingly trivial efforts of several billion foreigners. Consider this tonight, when you light that first firecracker or aim that Roman Candle at your neighbor's cat. Independence Day, my ass. We depend upon:
• Thailand and Taiwan for our clothing;
• India for our computer programming;
• Central Africa for our processor chip and cell phone components;
• Mexico for our immigrant minimum wage labor force;
• Japan and Germany for automotive engineering;
• South America for drugs;
• South Africa for our diamonds;
• The Vatican for approval;
• The Middle East for our petroleum;
• Caribbean Islands for our vacation resorts;
• Russia for our Space Programs;
• Scandanavia for premium liquors, and;
• Great Britain for bullshit political support.
And apparently upon Israel for a massive tax writeoff, as millions of Jews who we ignored during their summary torching in the 1930's are apparently entitled to millions of our tax dollars and Palestinian territory. Fuck, we can't even make good chocolate here. Now that I think about it, the only tangible objects I've noticed America producing during the course of my life are more Americans, and the guns and bullets and missiles and aircraft employed to beat the rest of the world into submission. And with the exception of Australia and Canada, it would appear every single nation of Earth has something we can't live without. Sure, we'll all gather together tonight and blow millions of dollars shooting our wad into our polluted skies, and not a one of you will give one thought to what exactly you're celebrating out there.
America is a dirty date rapist, a fat sow of a society that is growing thicker and heavier with the milk of Mother Earth's tit, and the only thing keeping us from Darwinian elimination is the big red "PUSH NUKE NOW" button under our fat middle finger.
Once upon a time, a mob of pissed-off radicals had enough shit from their oppressors and packed up the shop for a better way. A new way. And a New World. On this 4th of July, you remember exactly what that New World has become: a cherade of fuck clowns and executive pimps, whoring your asses out for the fat dollar in the offshore bank account. The government tells you the lies, the media relays the lies, and you, the gullible American, lives the lies. The Dream, the vision, the role as international police officer and moral majority is a vast illusion. No, Virginia, there is no Santa Claus, and your President is a lying bastard. So I beg you, on this pyrotechnic evening commemorating the deaths of American soldiers across time and the world, to look up from your feet and the newspapers, and pay attention to what is actually happening.
You're not celebrating your independence from anything, not your past of killing Niggers and Injuns, your legacy of ignoring genocides, your reputation of exploiting the Third World for your ends. You're not celebrating your right to look at smut on the Internet, your ability to purchase firearms and own your own land. You're not celebrating your freedom from international oil pricing, the effect the Yen has on the dollar, or what the Euro is going to do to your economy. And you're certainly not celebrating what those Founding Fathers had in mind when they drafted that Declaration of Independence or the Constitution that governs you.
You're celebrating their ignorance.
Ignorance of what America would become, ignorance of all those dead Iraqis scattered across the sand, ignorance of where you're money is going or what those Congressmen are doing or who's dying for your cause. Ignorance of exactly what that Flag you're waving signifies.
And your own ignorance that right now, in your backyard, a flag is burning.
An elected official lit the match. An appointed spokesperson debriefed the gathered press. A police officer held you back from the yellow tape. A cameraman was robbed of his film. An editor, a total stranger, warped the words you read. A familar face on the TV read them to you in that assuring voice. And you believed them.
You believed every word they told you.
So why don't you believe me?
The only entity of which you're operating independently is the truth.
Celebrate that, you conceited fuck.
thomas@consumptionjunction.com |
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