You know what bugs me? The NSA.
When Marc Anthony sang “God Bless America” at last night’s MLB All-Star Game, racists were understandably outraged since baseball is America’s national pastime and Anthony is clearly not American.
I mean, just look at the guy!
Anyhow, these two guys win the award for Most Idiotic Tweets I’ve Seen Today. When presented with the fact that Anthony is, in fact, American, they continue to insist that there’s some sort of problem, honestly convinced that it’s impossible for someone to be Latino and American at the same time. After all, he’s clearly not white and doesn’t look like he could possibly be from New York.
Stupid facts. Always trying to get in the way of people’s racism.
False Alarm of the Day: FBI Questions Saudi Student for Possession of a Pressure Cooker
Last Friday, the FBI surrounded the home of Saudi student Talal al Rouki after his neighbor tipped off the authorities that he has been seen around the residential area with a pressure cooker, a household kitchenware that recently made the headlines after it was used by the Boston Marathon terrorists to set their deadly bombs off in April. When questioned by the FBI, the frightened Michigan resident showed FBI agents the cooking apparatus, informing them he had used it to make the Saudi Arabian rice dish kabsah before taking it over to a friend’s house, to which they replied “You need to be more careful moving around with such things, Sir.” …Welcome to ‘Murica, Talal!
Source: Daily Mail
While all the American tumblrs were drunk on their freedom yesterday, I feel like today will be the freedom hangover where they rub their eyes, get on tumblr, and realize what obnoxious pricks they were yesterday.
Speaking of America…
One of America’s finest and earliest authors celebrates his 208th birthday today. Yeah, I’m talking about Nathaniel “Nasty Hawt” Hawthorne!
Word up, my Americans!
I remember my first eagle ceremony when I turned nine. The first eagle you get is always declawed, which I always thought was pretty inhumane, but it was a good way to ease into caring for the birds. My eagle (named Baldy, because I wasn’t a terribly clever child) was already quite old when I received him (he was a rescue eagle, luckily) but I did have him until I was 16. I don’t know if I was more excited about getting my drivers license that year, or my new eagle! You should have seen the party we had when I got him, too! Grilled hot dogs and fire works and lemonade…. obviously I named my beautiful new eagle Freedom. He’s too big to keep inside anymore, unfortunately, but we’ve got a pretty comfortable roost for him on our apartment’s balcony.
Ah, yes, the eagle ceremony! My Justice and I remember his quite well. (They had just come out with telepathic link transplants when I got him, which is how I know he remembers it.) Our celebration was quite modest, compared to Freedom’s—apple pie under a cloudless summer sky as we signed our Declaration of Interdependence. I still have the inked and talon-pierced document hanging on my wall.
what is this
[[THIS IS AMERICA.]]
The only brief moment in my life when I questioned capitalism was after my eagle passed away. Forgive me, I know how awful it is even to say something so terrible, but it was easily the darkest time I had ever experienced. He was a good eagle: always watchfully protecting our house from terrorists, eating all of his cheeseburger scraps, keeping all of our guns clean and in working order. Alas, he had a preexisting condition, and our family couldn’t afford the surgeries. I would cry myself to sleep wondering why our fine nation would perpetuate the unequal access to quality avian healthcare. However, rather than succumb to ideological ruin, I used the need for economic competition to give me the resolve to work hard in school, report illegal immigrants, and strive to earn the high-paying salary that would grant me a lifestyle with which I could give a pet eagle the care it needs. Even in his passing, George Franklin Reagan was teaching me valuable lessons about what it means to be an American.
I don’t know whether Barack Obama was born in the United States of America. But I do know this, that in his heart, he’s not an American. He’s just not an American.