6.1To quote Neil Gaiman’s
American Gods, “America […] is the only country in the world that doesn’t know what it is. Nobody goes looking for the heart of Norway or the soul of Mozambique. They know what they are.” For over two hundred years we’ve styled ourselves as the apotheosis of political and personal freedoms, of mastering our own collective destinies and yet here and now we’re still no closer to finding out exactly what it is we’re celebrating every Fourth of July. The country might honor the anniversary of its founding as one, yet exactly which version of America we’re celebrating seems to differ depending on whom you talk to or where you are. And it seems that, whether two hundred or two thousand years should pass, the identity of this nation will forever be unclear. By virtue and consequence of the very diversity we are so proud of (or at least, as we keep telling ourselves), we’ve created for ourselves the relative and inexpressible nature of this land, the individual ingredients of our cultural mélange living in their own radically different and seemingly alien nations. Like the parable of the blind men and the elephant, we each of us will only see what is in front of us while cheerfully ignoring the rest. So while one of us might feel the trunk, the other will feel the tail, and thanks to our complete inability to just get the fuck along and learn to see what the other sees, the truth of what is before us will eternally be out of reach while we stumble in the dark, no one-eyed men to lead us through this kingdom of the blind.
New York’s America is not Texas’ America. California’s America is not Arizona’s. And so on. And so forth. While my America stands for liberal thinking and social progression, when juxtaposed with the America of my neighbor – that of conservative values and spiritual atavism – the incongruity is undeniable. We live in a country incompatible with itself.
This column is no exception. I am convinced that I am writing this out of love for my adopted country, yet there will be at least one person who is going to read this and be convinced of my desire to see it brought to its knees (probably via the homosexuals or something).
But I do love this land. I do. And you know what I love about it? It’s not the freedom or the opportunities. No. Fuck that. I can be just as free in Scandinavia and have as many opportunities in Hong Kong. No, here’s what I love: Autumns in Maine. Winters in New York. Summers on South Padre and a springtime spent driving around the Pacific Northwest. More: I love Yellowsprings, this little hippie town in Ohio a couple of miles outside the air base where I used to score weed from a policeman. More: Mount Washington in Pittsburgh at night, and the most beautiful view of the lights of the Golden Triangle caught in the confluence of three rivers. More: I love the fact that I know where I can get a fried chicken breast baked into a glazed donut, or that the guy running the drive-thru down the street knows to make me a special-order McGangbang whenever I stop by. More: I love football. Fuck soccer. I’m talking football. More: Mulholland Drive (the road, not the movie. Okay, the movie, too). Ghost towns along Route 66. Graceland. Busking in New Orleans. Fucking roadside attractions and overpriced coffee and “authentic” Chinese food and new episodes of
Futurama. Cormac McCarthy and Martin Scorsese and Lady Goddamn Gaga. More: the Andy Warhol Museum. More: the Bradbury Building. More: Kings of Leon kicking ass at Bonnaroo.
More: I love how, despite our being hated by much of the world, there are still so many people who would risk everything just to be here. To give everything just so they can ride Space Mountain.
Do you understand?
Can you understand?
Your version sucks. Your narrow little slice of American Pie can’t compete with the whole. The parts are nothing when compared with the sum. This is synergy. It’s the synesthesia of sight and sound, color and taste. It’s “I’m a Little Bit Country, I’m a Little Bit Rock n’ Roll.” It’s blind nationalism and it’s questioning authority. It’s sex and death and eating. It may or may not be what our Founding Fathers fought and died for, but for this, I gladly would.
It’s being all right with never really knowing exactly what America is.
Because
fuck looking for its heart, and
fuck looking for its soul. When taken as a whole, encompassing everything that it is and forgiving it for what it isn’t, America needs no definition, and no rulebooks or checklists or guidelines to tell us exactly what constitutes a true American.
In truth, to be an American, just as it is to be one of any nation on Earth, one only needs to be there. To eat from its land is to be the land. To drink from its waters is to be the rivers and lakes. To see, to know, to love its people is to be its people.
“Blessed” isn’t the word I would normally use, but it’s the first one that springs to mind.
Happy Independence Day, fuckers. None of us deserve it.
6.2"The World is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion."
~ Thomas Paine
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Phil Roland is a blogger and writer at large. His new website, "God, the Devil, and Phil," will be launched sometime this month.The views expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of The-USH.com or its owner
