I'm new here. No, not to Tennessee or making fun of anyone that isn't me, but rather to the beloved, accredited, and down right make-you-shit-your-pants-funny The Weakly Wanglover . . . .Wait, what's that Hornyberger? Oh, that's just you? My mistake. . . I mean The Weekly Hangover. Do I have your attention? Do you want to know me? If you answered no to either of these questions, quit reading, get the hell out of America, and move to that country we border to the north, Flannel-da or whatever the hell it's called.
Sorry comic bookies. Sorry Toby Keith. I am America and opposite to what Steven Colbert tells you, no you can not. You may have your super spandex and lyric-licensing contracts, but you should save your small scraps of dignity and never try to compare your loyalty to this country next to mine. Now I've expressed my fair share of Patriotism by designating myself as the American flag in capture the flag, I've written patriotic songs that insult every other country and I salute every American flag I see. But hold your horses Farmhouse and Tri-Delts, my patriotism is rooted way deeper than these proud moments of true American heroism. Every day on my way to school I have a moment of silence as I pass the Veteran's cemetery. I have American Flag swim trunks that I made sure were designed with 50 stars and 13 stripes on them before even considering wearing them out in public. The list goes on. Furthermore, I understand this theory of "bleeding orange" that you UT-crazed students and former alumni have, but let's be serious here for a moment. We all literally have blue blood running through our veins that consists of red and white blood cells. If there was ever a doubt in your mind that God exists, or that he is a true American, there is your proof. So let's try to forget how the Dixie Chicks and CCR use their influence to increase anti-patriotic propaganda for a moment and focus on what really matters. And that is the fact that, in all of us, there lies a patriotic son-of-a-bitch just waiting for its moment to shine (just not as brightly as I). Are you gonna step up to the plate and wear your country's colors proudly or are you gonna sit in the basement of your grandfather's house and touch yourself while watching Golden Girls re-runs? It's up to you, and yes, those are you're only two options.
So I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a Party in the USA, I'm Proud to be an American and it's all Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue.
Don't like what I have to say? Are you a little disappointed that I didn't make fun of Pike after they didn't offer you a bid last semester? Write me a response. Who knows, maybe if you're vulgar enough, you'll catch the eye of another writer and they'll ask you to be on staff.
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