For Post Dated Release from the Office of Cultural
Annihilation Eradication Subsumation Appreciation
It has fallen to me to intelligenate my fellow colleagues of certain irregular practices among the human colonists during their holidays.
This press briefing was supposed to be scheduled for July 1, in advancement of the explosions but I spent the time reading the Wikipedia as preparation for my Jeopardy audition. I think I stand at good chances. I now know the plot summary for all the Jersey Shore episodes and can name all current and former Federal Open Market Committee members in reverse alphabetical order.
My assistant tells me to get on with it.
As everyone knows, Americans enjoy celebrating American Independence and other British failures. In addition to improving home design reality TV shows and comedy sitcoms–
My assistant would like to add he thinks the Office is funnier with a British accent.
they like to shoot things from boats and set them afire. No. Set them afire and shoot them from boats. Shoot the boats with fire and set it to music. Set fire, shoot boats, play music and eat copious amounts of fried beef. Employ ancient Chinese techniques now guarded by gas station outlet malls and blast Lee Greenwood.
My assistant says to call them Fireworks. Everyone knows what Fireworks are. Three year olds have a better understanding of arson than I.
While some of my colleagues believe that to engage in such activities near forests and homes is environmentally irresponsible–
My assistant asks how many ecological impact studies were conducted before lasering “AND THEY HAVE A PLAN” into the Rocky Mountains.
we have reached the conclusion that certain segments of the population are unusually attached to their fireworks. And guns. And fireworks in the shape of guns. And freedom in the form of fried potato sticks. And fried sugary drinks. Plus they are sparkly. We would be remiss if we did not admit our appreciation for sudden bursts of joy and exuberation to celebrate historic victories. Why, back on our planet we celebrate each year the taming of the great Skreekagog with an attempted ceremonial sacrifice of our ill favored young. The young that survive receive the present of 10 years hard labor in our salt mines.
My assistant tells me that no one cares. And also “Oh my god that is a terrible, terrible story and in no way related to the way that we honor the sacrifice of many, the brave acts of our forefathers, and our desire for the equality of all people even if we sometimes make mistakes and misinterpret our past in a way to manipulate the present for our own selfish gain.”
Whatever. To each his own.
Announcement: I am need of new assistant. One that is not allergic to bullets. And is also flame retardant. Apply posthaste.