Use the Independence Day holiday as a jumping-off point for political snark? That’s not Tam’s way:
Since I spend the other 364 days a year feeling doomed and teeing off on the sack of bastards that cling leech-like to the body politic and making 2012 American suburbia sound like 1972 Karl-Marx-Stadt in the DDR only with more cable channels, I took one day off to feel like an American: I rolled around in a pile of 30-round magazines like Scrooge McDuck and did some snapping-in with an AR-15; I mooned a picture of the queen of England; I read whatever the hell I wanted to, even a few pages in a book printed by the CPUSA wondering if they could beat the Army in a guerrilla war; I sang “Take Me Out to the Ball Game”; I ate a delicious beef filet about the size of my head, fresh off the grill, with a ‘tater to match.
I went to bed feeling pretty darn ‘Murrican, let me tell you.
About the only thing she didn’t do was unleash a crapload of Chinese-made incendiary devices, though the McCains were there, or at least somewhere, to take up the slack.