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“Ooh! Aah! So pretty.”

“Dad, the gazebo is on fire.”

“Hey! Who ate the last hot dog. THAT WAS MY HOT DOG, DAMMIT!”

“Never mind that. Is potato salad supposed to be that color?….bleaarhghbhhrh” *collapse in filth* Weary lift of the head. “Hey…is there any more beer?”

Happy Independence Day everyone! Well, happy for most of us anyway, but not for my sad-sack friend, Mea Culpa*

(*Not his real name. Unless you want it to be.)

Get out her, Mea, and atone for your desecrations on the birth of your country.

I’m sorry picnic tables are so damn flammable.

I’m sorry I started celebrating so early. In retrospect, bottle rockets at dawn may have been ill-advised.

I’m sorry I chose lunch time to show everyone my new phone app “1001 Things You Didn’t Know Were in Your Hot Dog.”

I’m sorry the 4th of July isn’t, like, the 400th of July. Four-hundred-day party, man. Am I right?

I’m sorry Ben Franklin isn’t here for this Independence Day, like he was the first one. That dude knew how to score chicks.

George Washington, father of our country. George Foreman, superb boxer. George Harrison, legendary musician. George Jetson, future trailblazer for space-aged domesticity. With so many great Georges, I’m sorry my George, who lives next door, WON’T SHUT THE HELL UP ABOUT HIS DAMN HOME BREWERY.

I’m sorry the founding fathers didn’t listen to the their wives and ask for directions, because I’m pretty sure America is supposed to several blocks to the left.

I’m sorry we thought it would be okay if we gave Gramps a croquet mallet, but didn’t give him his meds. We’re sure, though, Aunt Shelly’s knee is only sprained, not broken.

I’m sorry corn of the cob blows every day of the year other than Independence Day.

I’m sorry that when I think about Independence Day, I don’t think about fledgling democracy or the struggle for freedom of expression and belief and what these things mean even centuries later to an evolving world, but I DO think about Will Smith punching an alien in the face. “Welcome to Earth!”

I’m sorry Independence Day does not involve gift-giving. I could use a new home theater system.

I’m sorry the kitchen needs to be repainted. In my defense, if they weren’t supposed to go on top of a cake, they shouldn’t have named them Roman CANDLES.

Have a safe (but not boring) holiday!


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