I had an odd moment of affection for Americans the other day, standing in a Wal-Mart, looking down an aisle of nothing but ketchup, mustard, and relish, and smiling to myself imagining all the summer fun family barbecues those plastic bottle of goop represented.
It sounds like a war zone in my neighborhood right now, with all the (illegal) fireworks going off. A neighbor is having a serious party, with tons of sparklers and those sparkling fountain things and tejano music. Sounds like fun.
I myself have a sort of somber patriotism. I feel like America to me is your best friend who always gets too drunk at the bar and you have to spend all night looking after them. And sometimes they throw up on you, and they never remember that the next day, and even if they do they're too embarrassed to apologize.
But they're your best friend, so what are you going to do.
And now it's starting to rain out. The war zone noises have the cats all weirded out. I hope Abbie doesn't wake up.
This clip feels appropriate tonight.