You've Gotta Fight For Your Right To........PARTY!

by Keith Johnson

See that man standing in the bleachers? That’s me—I’m an American, dammit! Every time I hear that “Star Spangled Banner” played over the loud speakers, I set my $7 cup of beer down here on the seat and proudly place my right hand over my heart. See that tear in my eye? That’s what you call patriotism.

I can’t tell you what the sixth amendment is, but I do know who won game six in the NBA finals.

When I hear people complain about the government, I tell them “listen, buddy…if you don’t love America, why don’t you just geeeet out!”

I’ve got Alan Jackson in my CD player and a yellow “Support The Troops” sticker on my bumper. I do my part. I pay my taxes and I raised my son on Tom Clancy video games. He’s in Afghanistan right now putting those skills to work. What have you done for your country lately?

I’ve got an eighteen-year-old daughter who just moved to Hollywood to pursue a singing career. She’s doing great. As a matter of fact, Hugh Hefner just invited her to move into his mansion with two other girls. She’s got a reality TV show in the works. Damn, I’m proud of those kids.

I drive a Ford F150. That’s right, I buy American! Every third day I shop at Wal-Mart and stock up on Hot Pockets and Budweiser beer, and then I swing around to the Home Depot and pick up three Mexicans to work on my construction site. Them boys are funny. They’re always joking around saying they’re gonna take over Texas. I kid them right back and tell them if that happens, Mexicans will be jumping the fence trying to get into Oklahoma. They love that Mexican flag. Good for them. I don’t mind seeing a Mexican flag flying over my Post Office, but if I see my neighbor flying the American flag upside down? You better believe that I’m gonna WE TIP his butt to Homeland Security and get that bastard shipped off to Guantanamo.

See this gut? You don’t see any Muslim terrorists with a gut like that. No sir…that’s an American made gut full of hot dogs and Jagermeister. See that American flag? That was made in China by slave laborers. That’s right, China’s my bitch! Them yellow bastards only wish they could be over here takin’ part in all this freedom.

Speaking of freedom, how do you expect to win the war on terror when we’ve got this damn Constitution and Bill of Rights always coming to the defense of them Islamo- fascists? Get rid of that Constitution. You can take my Bill O’ Rights too, but don’t you dare take away my Bill O’Reilly.

I know what’s going on. I keep abreast of current affairs each day. Jon Stewart tells me everything I need to know. He’s a little liberal for my liking, but he’s one funny dude. He has a way of turning the horrific into one big joke. I may be losing my house, my wife, and my freedom—but hey—why should I get all worked up about it, right? Now if I really want to get serious I turn to Glenn Beck. Now there’s a real American. That boy knows what’s going on. He’s spent his entire life in a drug-induced stupor, getting fired from one morning-drive job after another, only to turn it all around in a split-second to become the most trusted political analyst and historian in television history. That’s what you call an American success story.

Look at Arnold Schwarzenegger. There’s another great American. Here’s a guy whose voice was dubbed in by another actor in his first film role as “Hercules in New York.” Now he’s the Governor of California. Ten years ago, if you pitched the idea of Schwarzenegger playing the part of a Governor in a serious drama, you’d be laughed out of Hollywood. We’ve come a long way since then. I hope to someday slap a “Palin/Schwarzeneggar” 2012 sticker right next to my “W” and “Support The Troops” stickers to show my American pride off to all those damn liberals. I’m not politically correct…I think outside the box. I’m a rebel. Let some pansy liberal try and stop me. I’ll get right in his face and tell him “if you don’t like America, why don’t you just geeeet out!

Damn, I love war. Why? Because war is the American way. Besides, why should I be concerned as long as bombs aren’t being dropped on my lawn? I don’t worry about World War Three because I won’t be around to see it. Jesus will come before then to usher me up to that big Astrodome in the sky, where everyone is a Rockets fan and nobody wears a damn turban unless they’re driving my drunk ass home in a taxi down gold paved streets.

And what’s all this fuss about that “so-called” peace flotilla? Israel had every right to rappel down from American funded helicopters– in international waters–and assassinate people. God knows what would happen if those coloring books and crayons-of-mass-destruction got into the hands of Hamas pre-schoolers. Now I hear that a shipload of nuns is on their way to Gaza. I guess we should just let them get food to those poor Palestinian children so they can get all nourished and grow up to build bottle rockets that land on empty lots in Jerusalem.

Boy, I tell you. I don’t know what the world is coming to, but it sure as hell is affecting my golf game. Thank God the 4th of July is coming up. I’m gonna get me a big bag of briquettes and do me up some cheeseburgers. Then I’m gonna wash it all down with a keg of beer and shoot off some fireworks.

God bless America! The rest of you can go straight to Hell!

The above is satire. It is completely ficticious.