To remember this country, to embrace and celebrate its many achievements and bountiful wonders… to do so without acknowledging its many, many, many injustices and appalling acts of global greed, is to don the star spangled banner of bullied persuasion, while marching along, sheepish singing, “Oh, say can you see…”
Yes, the fourth of July is a time for remembrance. Remember our brothers, our sisters, our sons, our daughters, and our photographic mothers and fathers. Remember them, honor them, but question why they were made to feel it was necessary to become involved in the first place. Remember the heroes, but never forget the selfish, inhumane avarice of the commanders of social conscious that lie and manipulate, all while sending young men and women to die for their bestial objective: to maintain the power they have, and to see to it, that by offering the lives of American men & women… this nation’s children… that by doing so, their power of manipulated global guidance and merciless sense of false entitlement (not to mention the real God of this country: the Almighty Dollar) will continue to grow, and the spoils of the few will therefore continue to be justified in outweighing the needs, and all too often the lives, of the many.
This fourth day in the seventh month of each year is a celebration of servitude disguised as freedom. A patriot supports, loves, and defends his or her country, not the ideals of those in control to further their selfish ideals. This great country is not ours to enjoy. We stole it via a treaty of deception and spilled blood, then set up our walls and called it home. To forget the Native Americans on this day of global gloating and self-obsessed bravado, to forget whose house we burned to the ground so that we would all be afforded the corporate convenience of a $3.85 cup of Caffe’ Mocha, is to look into the mirror and know, wholeheartedly, that we are killers, liars, thieves, and a fat, selfish nation.
I love this country. Not for what it is, but for what it can become. Give respect where respect is due. Think for yourself.
Happy birthday, America! Go fuck yourself!
I’ve been accumulating a fairly decent slipmat collection these days. The most recent addition is this deliciously clever little number from Permanent Records, a quaint little shop in Eagle Rock, and very tiny record label.
The Prudent Groove 