Nah.

Last night was the big fireworks night. Yesterday afternoon I walked with my kids by a throng of Blue pawns amassed around their paunch, bald white shirt commander and it just unsettled me more than usual. My kids looked in their direction and having heard plenty from me, just derisively dismissed them as no good. We then stride past the straggly sound guy in a Trump shirt and NFL color nearby and I was already making my decision. We ain’t participating in this.

Every year it’s the same stupid shit. “Patriotic” tunes, flags galore and blue hairs dragging their lawn chairs for the Big Night Out.

And this year, on the most clear week of evidence that the Empire is in a burning collapse, I felt a weird mix of loathing, pity and disconnectedness.

I despise the 4th, Freddie-style.

And I despise and resent the fucking brainwashing of the American school system to condition my kids into brainless zombie Patriots.

We did watch the fireworks, far away from the fascist tidings. There’s a respectable artistry in creating explosives to light up the sky in such intricate and wonderful patterns.

But my kids, I hope, will not just obediently get in line for that garbage.