CHICAGO (SNARKY) -- As I like to say: 230 is the new 20. The Grande Dame hasn't looked better, in my opinion. Though she may not be the comely lass she once was -- idly vexing the League of Nations gents mincing about the perimeter of the ball. (No matter, America, most of them are gay anyway -- not that there's anything wrong with that.)
My love affair with America becomes plainly evident on the Fourth of July. It's the perfect summer holiday to stop and celebrate our country and reflect upon our wonderful way of life here.
From the boisterous social gatherings around the grill with friends and family to the awe-inspiring and magnificent fireworks alighting the warm night sky, the best of America is everywhere today. But the epitome of it all is the slow parades marching down Main Street. Men on tractors and in those silly Shriner cars. Lady Godivas riding horses and wearing cowgirl hats. This holiday is the very soul of Americana 101 and what the boys (and girls) abroad are fighting to preserve.
I'm no rabid, flag-waving nationalist/protectionist but I can't help having a serious crush on America and what she represents.
Sure, America is full of idiosyncrasies but that only makes my love for her more real; the imperfections make her more endearing to me. To wit, there's something akilter to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation parade float throwing out Jolly Ranchers candies. All that extruded sugar can't be good for their stated mission. It's ironic probably only to me, nevertheless, I love the nuance surrounding the action.
So America, keep doing what you're doing whatever that may be. It looks like it must be Pilates or something because your Sun Belt is looking taut, girl. Call me sometime: 773.425.2XXX.
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