Happy Birthday, America

King for a fucking day, America. You can bitch and moan and double dip and get back together with your horrible mistake of a girlfriend. This is your day. No judgements. Drink until you puke. Punch your best friend in the face just for being short. It’s all you. Make Europe your bitch, again. Build a pipeline underneath Greenland that steals all their oil without them even noticing. Laugh at Brazil for building stadiums out of peas and toothpicks. Print money and use it to drone a terrorist while he’s laughing it up in his favorite shawarma hangout. Tell Putin you fucked his wife. When sugar doesn’t make you fat enough, invent corn syrup and tell the Myanmar kids to start sewing bigger pants. Put the Indians on reservations. No, not the Native Americans, the Indian programmers we need because American kids can’t do math. We can’t let them ever leave. Pretend solar energy is the wave of the future. When that doesn’t pan out, pretend wind energy is the wave of the future. Laugh knowingly when people say soccer is about to catch on. Tell Iran you’d like to meet to politely discuss them sucking your big fat dick. Build an all-knowing, all-seeing data collection center and use it to spy on  your ex-girlfriend. Fall asleep at conferences discussing the rebirth of Africa; it’ll still be a shit hole two hundred years from now. Remind the world there’s a line of 500,000 Guatemalans marching toward your back gate just hoping to be part of your working poor. Then yell, ‘Scoreboard’. Today is your day, America. You may be fat and embarrassingly rewarding shallow fame whores on television, but you’re still the center of invention and enterprise for the entire world. Be you slightly tarnished, you’re still the shiniest beacon on the hill. There is no line to leave this place. America, fuck yeah!

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