I know most people say their favorite holiday is Christmas or Halloween, but I could give up the orgy of greed and begging strangers for candy for the Fourth of July. What’s not to love about the Fourth? You have barbecue, parades, bathtubs of potato salad, and explosives! The Fourth is a celebration of who we are as a nation. It’s the one day a year where even pinko commies are proud to be American.
As a military history super freak, I get all weepy around the Fourth. Not for the sacrifices paid by our soldiers, nope I develop a case of the vapors for all those uber hot men in uniform! Yes, I am that shallow. While I recognize and appreciate the blood price paid by our fighting men and women , something about a man who has pledged his life to, literally, die for me even though he doesn’t know me makes my tummy turn to mush. The fact that I sleep peacefully in my bed every night because of that Marine, Sailor, Airman, or Soldier is just too much. Yes, yes they do it for all of us, but secretly, we all imagine a ripped out G.I. Joe busting down our door to save us from the invading horde of vampire alien Nazis. Who, after blowing the mother ship to smithereens and saving the galaxy from the Overlord, pulls you against his rock hard body all sweaty and splattered with vampire alien Nazi blood and kisses you like he’s trying to make the fireworks jealous. H.O.T.
All joking aside (yes, I can be serious. I’ve done it before, I think.), while you’re watching your parade, eating your food, turning Whistling Petes into bombs, and fantasizing about shirtless Marines with rippling abs and arms the size of…*smack* take a moment to remember the sacrifices paid to make this day possible and pray, that in thirty years, you’re not sitting around telling your grandkids what it was like when America was free.