Wednesday, July 04, 2007

The War on the Fourth

Well, it’s Fourth of July again, and what can I say. I’m sorry. I have yet again let you down in our eternal quest to end the Fourth of July forever. For as important as killing Christmas is in our goal to banish goodness from the world, obliterating this abominable date from our calendar is clearly the bigger fish. The Fourth of July stands for freedom and liberty and for the independence of mankind. Yet there will still be apple pies eaten today and fireworks fired. It’s enough to make me vomit.

And so I take today’s continued celebration of this day to be a giant wake-up call. I didn’t do enough. Sure, my series of 364-Day calendars have been big sellers in some liberal enclaves, as have my America-bashing history textbooks. But there’s only so many ways to describe Washington and Jefferson as Homosexual Islamocommies before you begin to wonder if it’s really getting through.

So that’s why I’ve decided to take this to the next level: Boycotts. I’m making a list of all the stores which sell Fourth of July paraphernalia in order to stage boycotts of them come next Fourth of July. List in hand, I’ll be sending letters in early June to each of these vendors, warning them to not sell anything even remotely connected with the Fourth of July on that dreaded date. That includes fireworks, hamburger meat, watermelons, beer, and of course, apples for apple pies. By the time I’m done, there won’t be a store open on the XXX of July.

But I need your help. I need each and every member of my loyal readership to immediately start searching out these offenders. Look in every nook and cranny of the world of merchandising. Leave no store unturned. I want names, addresses, and phone numbers. And don’t take their word for it. Insist on seeing all their merchandise. And don’t be afraid to raise your voice. Vague threats are a good way of letting people know you’re serious.

And the best part of all: At the end of the day we’re staging a huge firework burning. That’s right. I’m gathering together all the fireworks I can find, tossing them in a big pile, covering them with gasoline, and lighting those suckers up. That’ll show the little SOB’s.


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