America, Fuck Yeah!

So now that we have all officially survived the perilous onslaught of fireworks, beer, and poorly cooked grilled goods last weekend, we can now begin to introspectively reflect on the very nature of "our nations" independence day.

First, let us begin with a brief historical lesson, on July 4th a bunch of radical and very courageous men surreptitiously signed a document claiming independence from the British crown. Now some 200+ years later we know this day simply dubbed as "independence day". But we were independent on this day? In theory perhaps, but in reality, hell no, not in 1776.

The treaty of Paris, September 3, 1783 marked the official denunciation of the British Crown from the former colonies (now known as America to some) and our true independence but, there is little drunken revelry, chaos, hoo-raa America chants, or eh, a national holiday on september 3rd. In fact, september 3rd is one of the most de-liberating time periods in young peoples lives, for it is on this day that kids have to reverse there free-thinking radical "Summer-minds" into neo-political hogwash teacher-student talk.

Now lets talk about fireworks. From a normal everyday perspective they seem entertaining, a little wild, and a sign of celebration. Now take a metaphysical perspective. You are an alien and upon your first observation of Earth you see three men. Laden in polo shirts and khaki shorts, beers, and a "Cozys" (a contraption made for beers which locks in the ice cold refreshing taste, sinister schemes, and well you know.......) and they are hooting and hollering all across the street and happen to have brightly colored sticks in there hands.

After running around for about five minutes playing what seems like a mixture of grab ass, duck-duck-goose, and pin the tail on the donkey, one emerges from the group, "Hey y'all lets light these suckers, AMERICA!" the three in perfect unison yelp, "FUCK YEAH!"

They lay out there brightly coloroed sticks and begin to giggle and dart back and forth amongst one another. "Whos got the lighter?!" fingers start pointing, then all hell breaks loose, accusations, murder schemes, the whole nine yards. "Oh my bad, it twas just in my pocket y'all" "You mother fucker!".......a slight pause of silence, then the three banding there mind body and souls together proclaim, "America! FUCK YEAH"

They then very briskly light the three colored sticks and run roughly 1/64 of a parsect away. The colored sticks begin to pop and sizzle, simultaneously accompanied by laughter, gulps of beer, and an immensley powerfull feeling of American patriotism.

Why, my fellow compatriots, I ask, why........



Jose Luiz

The Drag

So its 10:48 am, your hungover to the point of paralysis and regardless of your poisonous intake of yesternight you feel like a million bucks..........in debt. Stumbling around the strewn about clothes peppered amongst your floor you try and "Kieth Richards" your way to the bathroom

For those of you who don't know what "Kieth Richardsing" is, its that drunk delusional state where you cant seem to stand up on your own two feet for longer than 2 and a half seconds, making any journey no matter how small or far, a literal free for all. You stamper throughout any room with the utmost lacklusternes for anything around you, everything within reaching distance is a life line, to keep you from falling over, and you stumble in a drunken stupor around and onto everything in your path.

Now, (hopefully without creating any proprietary property damage) your in the coveted palace of poop; your bathroom. Seeing the toilet makes you do one thing; excrete waste. Whether you had a "really fun" night and you puke, or you just had a "good time" and have to pee really bad, you bolt from the door to the toilet like a crack head begging for money.

But that's not even the drag. After your toilet event(s) you take a hard gander into the mirror, for some its, "I'm a bad mother fucker" and for others its a teeming taunt of self conscious malicious loathing to the point of insanity. But for most its, "I look like hell and have no time for a shower, so fuck all those ninny's who stayed in last night" Brushing your teeth (some choose to comb their hair (not I said the Pig)) you again begin to realize how much you already want to stop even though you just started.

This is the first lazy impulse of the drag. You begin to drag, your mental process slows and you realize you dont want to do anything, not brush your teeth, not fix your hair, youd like to roll back the blinds, pull up the covers and spend the next 72 hours sleeping. The drag is that you cant. You have to get up, get out, and do shit you dont want to do.

Why? You may ask my dedicated and devoted debutants of the revolution? It is an effort to, "get that gwap, paper chase, bake bread, cook currency, deliver babys-momma money" or just plain make money.

So we get up, get out that door and head to work. Unless your Hannah Montana or the Jonas brothers it seems as if most of us 16-22 year olds find themselves in a tireless teeming trench of underpaid, boring and useless-as-hell jobs. What to do, you ask?

You go to work under two conditions, one remember the golden rule, dont pay taxes, fuck taxes, you want to pay your taxes, then enlist yourself in the punk bitch line at the check out counter of every supermarket you ever enter......for the rest of your life. Second, you do your job and do it well, but realize when someone gets on your case, ego trips, or is just a straight up bitch, don't fret, cause in a couple years you'll looking back from a high and mighty throne of wealth, drugs, infidelity, and lackluster fame and say, "oh yes, shop rite! i remember when i worked there, when i was a plebeian"

You've got to get up every morning and fight the drag. Some people have coffee, others tea. And then there the brave few who say no to caffeine and yes to some more interesting herbal remedies, but that's another tale for another time.

Fellow compatriots, fight the drag don't let it take you down.



Jose Santa Anna Marie Carlos Ensuelo Catalina Regalia Luis