My *Amuurican* Penis

or

Never start a game of,  "Why I Love America"

with Pepe Lopez Tequila.

For the fourth of July, I thought it would be a great idea to make friends with Ms. Pepe Lopez, a fine, fine, classy tequila. As you can tell,  I was feeling like a fine, classy dame.

To provide some back story: I reside(d) in a very liberal town. People here tend to vote very left, are strong into large taxes, socialized medicine, education and dig Obama. The progressive words like 'Cunt' and 'Queer' are not faux pas. In fact, in conversation, most people I know use them. People are into green energy, composting and appreciating nature.  I love these people but I tend to be a bit more classically libertarian. We usually agree to disagree.


I, however, was born in a conservative, suburban, white area. People didn't really like taxes and most people I know voted for George Bush. Twice.  I had a neighbor who would go up to those using food stamps in the supermarket and aggressively critiqued their purchases. Often times, he scared away the person purchasing the groceries all together. At the time this seemed like normative culture to me.

Contextualized, it makes sense that I have a big 'ol American Penis. I love America. I realize there are many problems here, socially, racially, economically and well, structurally. But, still, I appreciate all the wonderful American things on a purely personal, hedonistic  basis.  Like,  very simply-- the ability to drink beer and blow things up.

To me, the 4th of July represents all that is wonderful (and wasteful) about our excess. We consume beer, eat cheap grilled food, converse with our friends, appreciate those who have fought for us and  in the meantime, "blow things up." (Fireworks, people, fireworks!)

So, you may think I'm a conservative, close minded asshole, but only on the 4th. It's the one day it is acceptable to be radically flashing your stars and stripes, your American Post- 9/11 Pride Masculine Penis. For one day, I don't care.

 So, back to Ms. Pepe Lopez. After several swigs of her, my friends and I thought it would be a great idea to start a little game called, "Why I Love America"  One shot for a "good" answer, two shots for a "bad" answer. This did not go over well and Ms. Pepe did not approve of any of the answers, so she gave no shots.

Soon, drunken discussions of sexism, racism and all the reasons NOT to love America came up.

Me, "Why do YOU love America?"
Response, "I don't."
Me, "What!? No Ms. Pepe for you!"

or

My friend, "Why do you love America?"
Response, "This country is sexist!"
My friend, "Yes, but why do you love America?"
Response: "You're a white male!"

Soon, I became frustrated, I grab Ms. Pepe and cuddled her with my big, hard, erect American Penis.

I then sneak into an old house of mine, which no one was home in and watch the fireworks from the roof. Realizing, I could get in a lot of trouble for this,  stash the Oly tall boy on the roof, tell my friends to leave, take a swig of Pepe and crawl back through the, small bathroom window. Needless to say, I saw the sunset, fireworks and cradled my big American Masculine, Capitalistic Penis. For this breaking an entering was a small price to pay.

I know. I'm an asshole. But, if you want to talk politic, policy, reform, let's do it any other day but July 4th.

Which leads me to my next post:

Educational Reform and the Idea of the Social Temporal Band-Aid

or

Why the System Will Never Change?

and

Can You Really Out Live Your Idea?