A Libertarian Fourth of July

Almost everyone I ran into yesterday wished me a “safe” Fourth of July. I realize this is just one of those inane things, like “have a nice day,” that we are programmed to utter. Just the same, I was a bit annoyed.

I suppose, to the extent they mean anything, these well-meaning people are admonishing me not to drive blotto, blow my fingers off with a cherry bomb, participate in unsafe sex—or otherwise engage in risky patriotic behavior.

But the thing is--- the Fourth of July has nothing to do with safety or avoiding risky behavior. The holiday commemorates a day in 1776, when the Death Warrant, signed by each condemned member of the Continental Congress, was publicly read in Philadelphia.

These revolutionary traitors proclaimed that all people were created equal, and have certain inalienable rights, and when a government becomes too oppressive, and is not affording the people those rights, we have the right to throw that government into the crapper.

July 4, 1776 was an official proclamation that a number of people in the colonies were willing to risk death, to remove the authority of an Empire, which was trampling their freedoms and liberties.

The Fourth of July is about revolution. It is not about Yankee Doodle Dandy or the Stars and Stripes.

Actually, the Stars and Stripes flag was not even in existence on July 4, 1776. It would be another year before Betsy Ross sewed Old Glory together. At the time there were a number of flags. But the most famous was the Gadsden “ Don't Tread on Me” flag, which Ben Franklin helped design.

Rather than listen to John Philip Sousa or insipid sappy “patriotic” music, it would be more appropriate if we did a few things in honor of our inalienable rights of freedom and liberty.

So, I have a few suggestions:

Head out to a firing range.

Smoke some weed.

Go skinny dipping.

Shoot off some illegal fireworks.

Send a few bucks to Equality for All-- a group which is endeavoring to prevent a certain class of Californians from being treated like second class citizens.

Play poker.

Send a bag of poop to George Bush.

Wear a pair of baggy pants in Shreveport, Louisiana.

Eat a tomato.

Smoke a cigarette on a California beach—better yet, do it in the nude. If you don't do tobacco, go herbal.

Send a bag of poop to the IRS.

Keep the seatbelt unbuckled all day.

Order some prescription drug goodies over the Internet.

Blow a shrill whistle in the Fed's listening device in your living room.

Kiss a Mexican girl.

In Gilbert, Arizona, put a sign in your yard promoting some idea.

If you happen to be on an airline— wear a really short miniskirt---do some heavy face sucking with your honey---then smart off to the flight attendant. Don't forget to give a bunch of shit to the FBI agents, who will greet you at your destination.

Actually read the Declaration of Independence (best attempted before smoking the weed).

Of course, some of these festive ideas will not go over all that well with your neighbors, or the local constabulary.

That is to be expected. In 1776 a third of the citizens, including Ben Franklin's son, were Tories and piously waved the Union Jack, while the murderous minutemen favored the Gadsden.

If we had a time machine, I suspect that the people who invoke “patriotism” the most, and are big on wearing flag lapels, would be the ones waving the Union Jack.

There is no doubt that George Bush would be a Tory. If you do get a chance to take a look at the Declaration, and see the specific complaints against King George, their bitchiness sometimes seem petty, compared to the kind of things George Bush has done over the past few years.

Indeed, in America we are at an awkward stage. It may be too late to change the system from within, but it is still too early to shoot the bastards:



Happy Independence Day.