Mood:
celebratoryTopic: General
She was born in a cold hardscrabble backwater surrunded by disease, suffering, and death.
She was raised as an awkward, ungainly stepchild, with her treatment topping any complaint Cinderella might have.
She was stupid enough, audacious enough, to think of herself as more than that, and when the dust cleared she was left alone in a big, cold world to mature on her own and try to defend her honor.
Since that time she has been a worker, a soldier, a consort, a princess, a queen, a whore, a lover, a fighter, a champion, a conceder, a uniter, a divider, a mother, a daughter, a leader, a follower, a heart-throb and a source of unbearable heartache.
And today, on her 232nd birthday, while she's still unspeakably young and though she bears a decidedly mixed track record in her short, meteoric time, she can only be addressed with one moniker above any other:
She's a Lady.
Here's to the best damned country in the history of humankind. God bless America, and happy Fourth of July.
Now, then: go "celebrate the birth of your nation by blowing up a small piece of it"...
and, thus, we're all really just chips off the old block.
