On July 2nd, they arrive. On July 3rd, they strike. On July 4th, we fight back.
The Fourth of July. Fourth of July. The Fourth. Independence Day. A federal holiday to commemorate the day our George officially started sticking it to their George. 230 years ago, Americans secretly gathered at an IHOP* and declared that they were fed up. It was finally time to stand proudly and declare, "Y'all peeps be buggin'." We were sick of outrageous taxes. Sick of living under the rule of a non-elected monarch living 3500 miles away. Sick of referring to elevators as "lifts" and flashlights as "torches." But most of all, sick of powdered wigs. They wanted unpowdered wigs, damn it.
And unpowdered wigs they got. After 5ish years of aiming at the foppish British troops and letting the French pretend like they were helping, America won itself a war. America was it's own country. No more monarchs. No more taxes. No more teacher's dirty looks. This set a precedent which lasts until this very day. We have never lost a single war. No, not even that one. Besides, we don't talk about that one. Moving on...
And here we are some two-and-a-quarter-ish centuries later, still celebrating the beginning of that bloody conflict. Taking one day a year to effectively say, "Suck it, Limeys." And we celebrate the best way we know how: explosions. Colorful explosions, loud explosions, accidental explosions. We loves to blow stuff all to hell. Especially if it's during a reenactment.
Every year, dozens of brave rednecks are willing to play the part of the British. Holding their fireworks just a second too long, putting explosives in their mouths to impress da girlies and not understanding how to light a string on fire, these brave hillbillies remind the rest of us what it must've looked like when an English leftenant got his hand shot off while sipping tea and politely discussing politics. God Bless you, proud yokels; you've been giving the common man grizzly photos to look at and allowing sensationalist politicians to discuss something besides important issues for years. For that, we here at Montgomery Road salute you.
This rambling has gone on longer than I expected. Maybe I'll save the description of what Legal Counsel and I did to celebrate (which was initially the point of this post) for the next post.
*It is commonly believed that this famous meeting took place at a Denny's. Some historians go so far as to say that Roger Sherman ordered the Original Grand Slam, with a side of hash browns. This has proven to be quite false. The meeting did in fact take place at the Inernational House of Pancakes as shown in Thomas "TJ" Jefferson's long lost diary, discovered May 1986 in the bathroom of Circle K. A review of business records shows that Roger Sherman ordered the Breakfast Sampler, and witnesses to the meeting have quoted him as saying, "I can't believe I ate the whole thing." It is interesting to note that Button Gwinnett, who would later be a signer of that very same Declaration, was sitting at an adjacent table on totally unrelated business involving peaches. He ordered the Rooty Tooty Fresh 'N Fruity. He didn't eat his bacon strips.
For the sake of my sanity
(what little is left)
Will my readers in Beaverton, Denver and Georgetown kindly identify yourselves. Preferably in the comments section or email. I'm going crazy trying to figure out who you are. And what happened to my Pennsylvania reader? Did you move to DC?
And unpowdered wigs they got. After 5ish years of aiming at the foppish British troops and letting the French pretend like they were helping, America won itself a war. America was it's own country. No more monarchs. No more taxes. No more teacher's dirty looks. This set a precedent which lasts until this very day. We have never lost a single war. No, not even that one. Besides, we don't talk about that one. Moving on...
And here we are some two-and-a-quarter-ish centuries later, still celebrating the beginning of that bloody conflict. Taking one day a year to effectively say, "Suck it, Limeys." And we celebrate the best way we know how: explosions. Colorful explosions, loud explosions, accidental explosions. We loves to blow stuff all to hell. Especially if it's during a reenactment.
Every year, dozens of brave rednecks are willing to play the part of the British. Holding their fireworks just a second too long, putting explosives in their mouths to impress da girlies and not understanding how to light a string on fire, these brave hillbillies remind the rest of us what it must've looked like when an English leftenant got his hand shot off while sipping tea and politely discussing politics. God Bless you, proud yokels; you've been giving the common man grizzly photos to look at and allowing sensationalist politicians to discuss something besides important issues for years. For that, we here at Montgomery Road salute you.
This rambling has gone on longer than I expected. Maybe I'll save the description of what Legal Counsel and I did to celebrate (which was initially the point of this post) for the next post.
*It is commonly believed that this famous meeting took place at a Denny's. Some historians go so far as to say that Roger Sherman ordered the Original Grand Slam, with a side of hash browns. This has proven to be quite false. The meeting did in fact take place at the Inernational House of Pancakes as shown in Thomas "TJ" Jefferson's long lost diary, discovered May 1986 in the bathroom of Circle K. A review of business records shows that Roger Sherman ordered the Breakfast Sampler, and witnesses to the meeting have quoted him as saying, "I can't believe I ate the whole thing." It is interesting to note that Button Gwinnett, who would later be a signer of that very same Declaration, was sitting at an adjacent table on totally unrelated business involving peaches. He ordered the Rooty Tooty Fresh 'N Fruity. He didn't eat his bacon strips.
For the sake of my sanity
(what little is left)
Will my readers in Beaverton, Denver and Georgetown kindly identify yourselves. Preferably in the comments section or email. I'm going crazy trying to figure out who you are. And what happened to my Pennsylvania reader? Did you move to DC?
posted by Montgomery at 2:40 PM
2 Comments:
What? When did this happen? Nobody ran it by me. You know that all uprootings are to be submitted in the form of a completed TK421 form to Montgomery at least 90 days in advance.
What's up in Phoenix? Are you panning for gold in the canals? Trust me, it doesn't work.
Hi Montgomery,
This is Angela, your classmate...who happens to be in Georgetown for the summer. I couldn't just stop catching up on the Montgomery blog, you write way too much to have to sort through all that I missed after the summer is over!
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