Happy fuckin’ 4th.

I have spent my Independence Day writing. I have written letters to the Speaker of the House, begging her to reconsider her vow not to pursue impeachment charges against Bush and Cheney. I have written to Senator Schumer, who I respect enormously. I wrote to Barbara Boxer and Dianne Feinstein. God, I even wrote to our district Councilman.

I think its time to write to the Democratic candidates: what the fuck are you planning to do, if elected, to rebuild the damage done to this country by eight fucking years of unrepentant, shameless evil?

Ted spent his day writing. And calling. And writing some more.

We’re going to visit Ted’s family tonight, but I can honestly say I’m not in a celebratory mood. I’m a patriot, I love this country; because I am a patriot, deep inside, I’m grieving. But I’m not quite ready to cover the mirrors and sit shiva for the US quite yet. I hope that the revolutionary spirit that this country was built on, and the Constitution itself, hasn’t been smothered by phony, mindless, flag-licking jingoism. I hope that this country and its people won’t continue to drown in the quagmire of fear, apathy, and cynicism that got us to this point over the last six years.

Instead of a flag, I think we should raise the Bill of Rights onto a pole and fly that.