I can hear your voices now.
“What a downer!”
“Awwwww man…you set up that headline with the word ‘prophecy’ to get me all excited—then the last half of the headline was nothing but a statement of the obvious!”
“Bro! Of course some white guy clad in a Blue Lives Matter t-shirt, hat, cape or thong—or some combination of the previous four items mentioned—will pick a fight with the cops who are working the holiday. Like it’s any secret that the police will get called to his house because he was baying at the sun while dry-humping his taxidermied bald eagle or smoking the gunpowder he extracted from his illegally-bought fireworks—don’t state that like it’s anything groundbreaking, bucko… This is America in 2019.”
Yes. This is America, 2019. That being the case, should we really be attempting this whole “Fourth of July” thing?
Our country is instigating a war.
We got ICE agents cracking jokes about dead migrant teenagers.
The time-honored shindig that harkens back to the era of our Founding Fathers…do we deserve it this year?
Sure, we all could use some time off (which, and I’m just pointing this out, is not a luxury extended to many first-responders).
But should this country be celebrating?
We should be regrouping, meditating, relaxing, decompressing and reflecting…but celebrating?
I don’t plan on sharing stories of ‘Merica’s greatness with any racists. They don’t invite me to their barbecues and I don’t invite them to mine. And on most days in general, I have a hard time remaining civil to the types of folks who enable billionaire and corporate corruption. I’m assuming that 7/4 won’t be any different.
Another thing: we sure as hell shouldn’t be holding military parades to honor chickenhawk warmongers who skipped out on the Vietnam draft, that’s for sure.
Again: a chill day sounds most welcome. Time to catch up with friends and loved ones. Clean the place up a bit, since we’ve been working too much and felt too exhausted to handle the mess.
July 4th: get bit by the cleaning bug and remember that this burst of productivity will also ease your mind in the next few days since this chore no longer hovers above you.
We all need a breather. Including the police, firefighters, paramedics and EMTs, food delivery people, restaurant workers, retail workers, emergency road workers and all the other Americans who will not receive a breather on this day.
In closing, I say bro, be nice and respectful when the police car shows up to your house.
Don’t wag your finger in the cops’ faces. Don’t tell them that you don’t have to do what they say. Don’t get preachy about how you are the one who personally pays every police officer’s salary.
After arriving, the police will ask you to put your pants back on. They’ll separate you from your hysterical wife and confused kids. Then—since you haven’t put your pants on yet—the cops will order you to put your pants on. They’ll ask for your ID.
As much as this whole act makes you feel like a victim, be thankful that your skin color is white.
Wait, what am I saying?
People like the quasi-fictional fella who inspired this little blog post know damn well how valuable their skin color is.
I don’t need to enlighten them to the fact that they can get away with mistreating police officers while others with browner skin colors can’t.
That makes life worth living, doesn’t it, bros?
You idiots will let billionaires automate your jobs and grab your wives by their pussies as long as you get to deflect your impotent rage and redirect your anger at another target.
This is America.
***
Chris Maley 
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