Since we, the luckiest one percent of the one percent of all humans that have existed since The Lord God Smiter Of Heathen Nations first created Adam and his BBQ rib six millennia ago, are blessed to inhabit the Greatest Nation That Has Ever And Will Ever Exist And If You Disagree Unka Dick Will Come Out Of The REAL Undisclosed Location And Shoot You In The Face And Then Eat The Face Including The Buckshot Think Of It As Roughage Even Satan's Toady Wants To Be Regular, I felt it would behoove me to gallop through a celebratory list spurring on a frank and bean discussion of American Greatness and you can take that straight from the horse's mouth.
"What's with the cowboy theme? What happened to cosmic tentacles?"
You got a problem with that,
1. Before I get started, I'd like to voice a mild public transportationista complaint. Years ago, when a driver employed by the Greater Cleveland RTA didn't show up for work for whatever reason -- sickness, oversleeping, broken alarm clock, hangover, post-freebase crash -- he or she was replaced for the day and ridership remained in sweet harmonic convergence with the road. Nowadays, that bus simply disappears off the map and you must wait for the next one. And to add insult to wounding, the fare is going up in the fall. Again.
"I hate to tell you, but it doesn't get much more American than that."
Increasingly crappy service with price hikes for the customer in this secular sleight-of-hand that will never get an influx of taxpayer cash because, well, duh, and therefore, Goldman Sachs, in its righteous indignation, would then unleash its extra-secret time machine in order to go back and purchase all of the stock actually worth anything these days before installing Barack Hussein Obama X, Thirteenth Baron of Kenya, as their Puppet King of this island earth and forcing us to round up the elderly for 1)utilizing their bodily fluids in a miracle program of unwashed mass mind control which could only lead to 2)post-haste soylent green production to fill warehouses with MREs ready to supply the soldiers of the as-yet-unannounced next war against tyrannical Tyrannosaurus tyranny?
USA! USA! USA!
2. Go fuck yourself, candy ass Norwegians. You think you've got the market cornered on fuzzy little bunny-destroying black metal? When's the last time you raped and pillaged and plundered, 1066?
Walk the talk. 2003, motherfuckers.
Frosty, rapid fire riffs, hammered downshift bludgeoning, brillo pad vocals.
'Tis a beautiful thing, sniff. Let's go kill something!
"You know no one will listen to that racket."
Are you now or have you ever been a discothequer?
USA! USA! USA!
3. Speaking of killing something, I will grudgingly admit to some disappointment in my fellow Real Americans®. Concerning all these health care town halls, pointing and shouting and heckling and moranizing as if you were in the front row at a Larry the Cable Guy show is fine and jim dandy, but if you truly want to get your point across,
make it hollow. Don't be like those Norwegians, and remember, guns don't kill people, health care kills people.
Except my Medicare!
That's right, gramps!
USA! USA! USA!
4. No, don't let me interrupt your flopping.
"But you like soccer."
Excusez-moi, effete Old European? I'll go through you like I go through goddamn coworkers.
Now that's a Man's sport, steroid flex, bulging head, myriad heath problems, disfigured flesh, death. Speaking of manly men of manliness (except for the Detroit Lions and Cleveland Browns), it's fantasy football time, you betcha. Send me an email and in return you receive the league ID and password, the key to future gridiron glory. The cheesehead must be dethroned!
Oh, go us and such.