Albo P Fossa—July 4, 2019
“I know, right?”
Like “awesome”, it’s a modern catchphrase. Like a salute with an attitude.
International Joke Day was July 1. I thought of Elvis, a Monty Python fan. Imagine his voice, straining the proper accent, “I fart in your general direction.” The British are coming.
Who’s to say how the rebels thought America would have the Fourth 243 years hence? Tanks and goose steps down the Capitol’s streets, and the benign leader raises his awesome hand in praise of the Fathers’ Land. (I know, right?)
Pops, farts and booms of fireworks began far and near last night. Jill will mow and we’ll moisten the lawn today with sprinkler and effluent laundry water. (Ugh…laundry. I know, right?)
We won’t buy things at holiday sales. Been there, done that. Yesterday was Old Farts’ Day at our grocery: 10% off for wrinkled gray-haired folks.
We’ll have a cocktail tonight before grilled brats. Maybe we’ll climb the roof to watch awesome lights for awhile, or maybe not. Half of all folks are below average: not all may climb up to see. After its awesome lights of the Fourth go down in flames, America will return to the Dark Side. (I know, right?)
I got my new sandals. They’re not new to my feet. I had the same before, but got rid of them: my bad. I shed shoes and socks, and put them on. My tired, poor, huddled toes yearned to breathe free. Awesome.
We are corns on the pinky of progress.
I know, right?