What I Love About The 4th of July

God willing that hot dog is kosher.

What do I love most about the Fourth of July? I'm so glad you asked. Let me give it a think. Hang on, you. It takes a few beats for the brain to reboot. Almost there.

Stilts would make me taller.

Is it the disturbing pop pop pops I hear at night leading up to the big event, as though random revelers were practicing their techniques just to make sure their incendiary devices are good to go?

No one I know would ever wear this.

Is it the reminder that not once have I ever hoisted an American flag over the SJG estate, and is that so terrible? Are my neighbors judging me more harshly than usual? Does the absence of the Red, White and Blue o'er head make me any less patriotic than the schmegegge on the corner who never takes his flag down? And I mean never?

Is it the self-serving opportunity to mention a fireworks-themed movie I wrote, starring a future member of the Royal Family?

I refuse to answer that on the grounds it may deny me residuals.

Smokin' bow ties, gents.

What I love about the 4th of July is the history behind it, the coming together, the unity, the hope that one day... just maybe... we can get ourselves back to the garden.