The Fourth of July got me thinking about pride in America and how it’s a really weird thing. If you’re proud of your country, you’re called a patriot. You can wave flags, blow things up, get drunk, and people will be proud of you because you’re supporting your country.
Now, suppose you’re proud of say, your race. Do any of those things fly? Fuck no. I’m pretty sure getting drunk and then blowing things up because you’re proud to be white is considered a hate crime. Weird, right?
And the contradictions don’t stop there:
Things you can be proud of:
Sexual orientation (if gay)
Faith in Jesus
People who assassinate abortion doctors
Not knowing a foreign language
Things you cannot be proud of:
Sexual orientation (if straight)
Faith in Mohammad
Living in Mississippi
It’s just odd that some of these things are okay to proud of while others are not. I feel like if people are allowed to go around waving flags about being gay, I should probably be allowed to get drunk in public on a daily basis. I’m a proud alcoholic, damnit.
And maybe I am proud of crystal meth. Harrisonburg, Virginia is the meth capital of the East Coast. That’s right, the entire east coast. Can any state besides Virginia claim that? No. But because of some arbitrary moral imperative, if I get the least bit proud that the home of crystallized methamphetamine is located in the state I was born in, people shun me.
It’s just like when I refuse to be proud of fat people. “Oh, Joe, it’s their life choice,” you might say. Fuck that! No one chooses to be fat. It’s not like those half ton people on Discovery Health wake up one morning and are like, “Hey, I’m going to do something with my life today.” I refuse to believe that being fat is something to be proud of. Unless you’re a sumo wrestler.