• Coffee.
• Sex.
• Drugs.
• Ryan Gosling.

There are things in life that make you tingle. Certain things create a buzz in your body and your whole torso gets warm from the sensation, the hope. That unexplainable, ill-timed erection you get in the kitchen from just thinking about them.

The Star Spangled Banner has never done this for me. I have never had the pure ecstasy of patriotism taking control of my nerves and releasing sweet dopamine to my brain. I’ve never wiped a single tear from my eye as I heard a pitch-perfect version of our glorious anthem, while admiring old glory at a baseball game.

For this reason alone, I am a threat to America…and must be stopped.

I remember the first time I noticed my lack of patriotism. For one, I didn’t even know what patriotism was, all I knew was that America had a very pretty flag, and that we were the greatest country on the fucking planet.

Eat a dick, hippy. [Drops the mic]

At the age of 18, I was dating a girl who brought me over to dinner at her mom’s house. Her mom was a very successful woman who loved three things; her daughter, booze, and America. Her house could only be described as being interior decorated by Sean Hannity and Dr. Seuss. It was a patriotic acid trip, and I just wanted to make it stop.

It wasn’t a dislike, but more of a perplexing feeling.

Why did she love the flag this much to decorate every item she owned in it? Like a teenage girl’s room, except, instead of Bieber, it was Uncle Sam posters, cut-outs, and Francis Scott Key albums everywhere.

I was sweating, and I felt like a traitor. It was then, that I learned true guilt. Something was stirring in my stomach that made me feel like I was a horrible person. Nobody had said anything to me directly, and it had never been implied, but the feeling was still there; I am an Un-American shithead.

We are patriotic hipsters.

“I liked America before it was even colonized.”

We’ve traded intelligent discussion for one sentence ideals that fit on a bumper sticker.

Please revert your eyes to the back bumper of my Toyota RAV4 for my opinion of political ideals.

• If you burn the flag, feel free to light yourself on fire as well!
• If you aren’t behind the troops, feel free to step in front of them!

Wow.

Of course by admitting this, it can only mean I’m a threat to this country. I’m an unappreciative, young, selfish, treasonous-bastard.

Well, obviously, we have a terrorist up in Reno; so hide ya kids, hide ya wife, cuz he is suicide-bombing err-body up in here. There is no other option other than to contact authorities, and have a government surveillance team watch over my actions.

SECRET SERVICE AGENT #1

Suspect is in Save-Mart, I think he has dynamite strapped to his chest.

SECRET SERVICE AGENT #2

Are you sure? I bet he is just stealing hot dogs in his jacket again.

SECRET SERVICE AGENT #1

You’re right. No threat here.

SECRET SERVICE AGENT #2

You thinking what I’m thinking?

SECRET SERVICE AGENT #1

Colombian whores?

SECRET SERVICE AGENT #2

Damn skippy.

It’s not so much the lack of respect for the flag or the country, as it is not being overly enthusiastic. I like Lady Liberty, she’s cute,  I would even let her come over drunk one night and make a few mistakes in bed with me. Only to end up 9 months later dancing on Maury after finding out the baby isn’t mine.

You are not the father!

Soldiers should be the only individuals who can fly or own a flag.  They should be the only ones who can put a decal on their truck, or wear Red, White and Blue bathing suits. They are the ones who’ve earned it, I don’t feel like I have the credit to claim and waive it. It’s a symbolic piece of cloth because of the people who have made it that. Wrapping myself in something I didn’t earn just feels like picking up someone’s baby and breastfeeding it. It’s not mine, and I got boob milk all over it. That’s gonna stain. I’m such a moron.

I don’t understand superiority, especially superiority that is instilled upon each American at birth. I think people are mistaking pride for smug. The Rome comparison is spot on, and it shouldn’t be frowned upon to feel so ho-hum.

Turning love of country into a sports teams and wearing #1 Uncle Sam jerseys and pennants makes me nervous. We’re drunk fans after a big game, taunting the other team.

“Your quarterback ain’t shit, Afghanistan. Go cry until next season ya fuckin queers! Bartender, two shots of Jameson.”

Claiming the USA as #1 to me seems just as ludicrous as people who feel pride in claiming their area codes. You’re the rapper spending 3 minutes in a song naming cities you like. Washoe county reprezent, son. It’s the same thing, just a larger scope.

Pride in something doesn’t have to involve stitching 100 feet of nylon to put on your car dealership. I am proud of my son, I am deeply committed to him and would die for him, much like many people would do for the flag and this nation. However, I am not about to make a giant banner with his picture that says, “Made in Mommy.”

People want substance for their beliefs, they want something to feel and see, otherwise they are afraid others won’t know how much they care.

A WWJD bracelet, a flag pin for a lapel, a tattoo of their child’s name on their ankle.

Our insecurities, sacrifices and ideals need to be seen for some reason.

Nobody can just have their word taken for about pride.

I’d fly an earth flag.

I’m serious. I would. One sign, because we are one people. It would be visible from space, and would have Will Smith punching an alien, saying in big letters,

“Welcome to Earf.”