[TO MY READERS: One thing that used to really annoy me about the Dear Abby advice column was her penchant for running the same columns over and over again—especially on holidays. However, now that I'm a columnist myself, I realize why she did it. Turns out you can repeat a particularly successful column until the cows come home—and keep getting paid for it! AWESOME! With that in mind, enjoy this special Fourth of July repeat column. Yer always pal, Humpy.]
Every year on July 4, I take a break from the rigors of "television journalism" to expound on the great country from whence I was born and inseminated. It's an opportunity to remember all the things that make America the greatest nation on Earth—like rubber-burning drag strips where hot-pants-wearing mamas flounce their fun bags in terry-cloth tube tops, and, of course, our God-given right to vote with our conscience on Election Day (which is especially gratifying when jerks like Clay Aiken LOSE).
HOWEVER! There are two things that would befoul my annual "America: Why I Love Her" column, and they are: (1) unpatriotic editors who insist I mention "something... ANYTHING about television," and (2) a certain president of the United States who has taken my super-patriotic mood and blown all over it with his ass cheeks.
One of these concerns is easily solved. HEY EVERYBODY! Watch TV this week! I hear that Desperate Housewives is good.
Now, on to the second concern. Thanks to our president and his obsession with bombing the crap out of a country that can't manufacture a decent pop song, much less "weapons of mass destruction," I'm having a little trouble whipping up my usual patriotic fervor. And I've tried everything! Drinking a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon, launching a battery of bottle rockets at groups of longhaired hippies—I even had sex with a Rooskie. (Hey! The "cold" war is over, baby!) And still nothing. My patriotism has gone all floppy!
But I will be goddamned if I'm gonna let those jerkos in Washington ruin my favorite holiday of the year! And the one surefire way of combating their brand of "patriotism" is to become a SUPER-PATRIOT. And that means celebrating the really fun freedoms that the Bush administration hates—like sodomy. And likker. And nude go-go dancing. And BB gun shooting. And playing loud rock 'n' roll music. And fellating a corn dog. And worshiping really weird religions like witchcraft, voodoo, and Mormonism. And wearing tight T-shirts that say, "Kiss My Ass!" And wearing tight miniskirts that say, "Kiss My Ass!" And popping wheelies on motorcycles. And buying Dixie Chicks records. And making obscene art, music, and gestures. And peeing where you shouldn't pee. And sticking your thing in places where it shouldn't be stuck. And licking those things that shouldn't be licked. And taking patriotism back from those flag-waving bottom-holes who place "making a buck" before what's best for our country.
That's how I roll in MY America. And by the way, it's your country, too. So let freedom—OUR kind of freedom—forever fawking ring.