Happy Independence Day, everyone. This is the day when I thank my lucky stars I was born in this country, a place where I can actively and loudly protest and make fun of our leader and various other governmental policies without fear of being dragged off in the middle of the night and "disappearing." I've always found it interesting that Americans seem to be the only people who are more proud of their heritage than the country they currently live in. Ask anyone "what are you?" and they'll tell you "I'm Irish/Latvian/Chinese/Russian/Scandanavian/Kazakhstanian/Albanian/etc." How many people, when you ask them that question, tell you they're American? Granted, we are the land of the melting pot and, unless you're a Native American, you can't really say that your ancestry is American. But, dammit, I'm a third-generation native-born American, I'm damn proud of it, and I do answer "American" when people ask me what I am. My country, right or wrong -- and while I do readily admit we do some pretty stupid things here, don't mistake my criticisms as my being willing to forsake my birthright and move away. I wouldn't want to live in any other country, and my ability to criticize this country and its government is part of what I love about America. In any event, I've taken some allergy medication before heading down to Eve's little Margaritas & Mayhem shindig tonight since she has a cat and I'm allergic to cats, so I'm a little out of it. Now I'm going to go out, terrorize the roads while under the influence of Allegra and then drink large amounts of tequila! Tomorrow, I'll be out all day drinking beer and playing bocce ball and horseshoes at some male-bonding event in Hermosa Beach with an old friend who grew up two houses up from me and who moved to Los Angeles last week. Did you follow all that? Good, because I didn't. ¡Viva la gente!