THE NEW AMERICAN BIRD!

Ben Franklin, the consummate in-depth thinker, all around colonial genius and well rounded panty-chaser is about to be proven insightful once more. Living in a time without Rogain (note his bald head on the $100 bill) and knickers, the “creator extraordinaire” laid down his own personality template. I’m not just talking about the sex drive of an old man sliding his hands on supple naked lady-ness well into his eighties. The history suggests he may have had long term vision, and it wasn’t because of his new fangled invention (wire rimmed eye glasses).

The leaders of his day struggled for a Declaration of Independence while Franklin was one of the proponents of creating a national emblem befitting of the colonies heritage and traditions. You might think it would be a “wild hare” given its proclivity to reproduce almost as much as Franklin himself. The Philadelphian and most popular founding father pictured on U.S. money that was never a President however, wanted the national bird to be the turkey.

How could such an gifted man propose that a bird willing to stand with its head stretched in the air facing skyward, mouth opened catching raindrops until the damn thing drowns was indicative of America. Did he really think it resembled anything of the America he helped to birth? The answer is that his insight was long and far reaching though a bit muddled by lacey bodices.

The feathery gobbler after all was an emblem of all that was good in America between original settlers and the Native Americans they found when Europeans landed on her shores. Given the source, you might have expected the back of the $100 bill to picture a brothel instead of Independence Hall. Nevertheless Franklin was a man of passion decision, opinion, and as it turns out extra sensory perception (ESP).

Look around yourself today. Culturally you will notice little resemblance to even the 1980’s. The traditions have been sliding down the proverbial slippery slope for at least that long. It is almost as if we are virgins that have plunked down our first $25 waiting to see what kind of whore and bottle of booze it will buy us. We are as oblivious as Tom the Turkey; ever satisfied to keep overstuffing ourselves. The country is drunk with success, pomp and circumstance, singing glory to ourselves while the lumberjack sharpens his Thanksgiving Day ax right before our eyes.

The bald eagle surely symbolized the more than two hundred years reflecting America’s rugged individualism that carried the nation. Today that eagle is much more of a turkey. The eagle a fierce-looking, domineering hunter ever vigilant to guard and defend her territory once survived on its wits. The sustenance upon the weak and more venerable of Mother Nature’s domain had been replaced by a sniveling whiney geekish kind of existence. A country that was once John Wayne has become a society of Don Knotts.

Today one can conclude that maybe Franklin had it right, we were destined to be a nation of turkey’s not eagles! He might have been stimulated by our loose moral values in the name of sexual gratification, but he likely wouldn’t have enjoyed the last 20 years of American politics.

In the movie 1776 John Adams (played by William Daniels) moans to Franklin (William De Silva) that he would be forgotten by posterity. He muses that Franklin will be credited for its success. “Franklin did this, and Franklin did that.” Adams states. “Franklin smoked the ground and out popped George Washington on his horse. Then he, Franklin, and the horse defeated the British all by themselves. Franklin responds “I like it!” He is remembered as a serious man with a sense of humor. Until about 200 years after the fathers founded the country it seemed likely that men with so much on the ball, like Franklin would be perfect candidates for President.

Most recently, that eagle had to be rescued by Ronald Reagan. In a mere short 20 years since the country has once again molted turkishly. It now waddles around the holding pen at Thanksgiving time waiting for the much talked-about grand feast; still not realizing that it is the guest of honor on the table not at it.

Franklin and his extensive hanky panky would have been right in fighting for a Rhode Island Red emblem. For today’s sexually charged culture both our propensity for nakedness and all things foul are two enduring legacies of the American dream. Maybe Franklin who liked women’s legs more, saw through the history of mankind enough to know that one day our sturdy cowboy haunches would end up as turkey legs.

ANOTHER F-ING HOLIDAY!

After all of those years of mutual assured destruction, duck and cover jingles in the classroom, and downright dreaded doom of cold war reality, there is finally something about Russia to be admired. The headline in the Denver Post from late summer said it all! Russians get day off to procreate, then win prizes. It almost makes one want to become a communist.

As the story goes the Russian region of Ulyanovsk is fighting the Russian trend of a population decline. More Russians are dying than being born. That might have cause great cheer 30 years ago, but today the solution is inspiring. Russia has one-seventh of the worlds land mass, but only141 million people occupy the space. This region is offering a unique way for folks to give birth to “a patriot” on Russia’s national day.

Their procreation day dubbed the “Day of Conception” is September 12th. Who could argue with a holiday for something called the National Day of Conception, no matter when it’s celebrated? I can almost guarantee that 99 44/100% of the male population of the U.S. would line up the night before to participate in that holiday! On top of that if you give birth on Independence Day you stand a chance of winning prizes! Last year’s Russian couple collected an SUV. Others won TV’s, refrigerators, washing machines, and the like. In America such an SUV could be manufactured on a strictly limited basis. Produce only one of them a year for the contest winner and it will be deemed an instant “classic”. Of course the SUV could be produced by any car company as long as the model has a name like “the Sexcapade”, or we could just give the winner a hummer….again. Imagine finally being able to claim a trophy for your bedroom antics!

The U.S. would go wild for that especially if that means we get a “day off”, so to speak. Imagine the sounds around your neighborhood as everybody did their part and “pitched in.” Not only would it be rhythmic, but it would probably prove melodic and ear-plug worthy if the neighbor’s are anything like the people at my house. The holiday would be guaranteed to surpass Halloween and all of the others combined with the exception of Christmas. Christmas is mainly for children anyway so why not give the adults that are still young at heart their own humping holiday?

Since July 4th is our day of Independence, 9 months prior would be October 4th. That just so happens to be my wife’s birthday so it works doubly well for me. Who wouldn’t want to have their birthday off from work in order to lather up? I mean on your birthday you practically have to be in a coma not to get lucky! Even comatose patience sometimes “get some” depending on the quality of care of the nursing home they’ve been placed in unwittingly.

A day off for carnal knowledge as a goal sounds much more American than Russian. It also sounds like any night in every singles bar, but this would be different. It would be the duty of every citizen to “give it their all” for the good America’s future. It would be your duty damn it, your duty! Even the weirdo’s, grosso’s, fatso’s, and the freakishly hideous would have a sporting chance. Think of it as a holiday you’d be eager to celebrate; akin to those desperate last moments of your life. How else would you want to spend that time other than going out with a bang?

As the years go by, this annual holiday would give the U.S. all of the little rugrats that it will need to someday pay and reconstitute a sagging Social Security system. We’ll grow are way out of the looming Social Security crisis. The government for generations to come will be able to keep dipping their corrupt hands into the Social Security Fund, all because of our newly found holiday. We won’t have to worry about worker-to-retiree ratios anymore, or how much money is in the fund. When there are enough of the little buggers born, then we could curtail the program or give out condoms. No need to cut benefits, or raise premiums. Heck we could probably lower the cost to each of us. This is after all the country that gave us the sexual revolution, the pill, aids, Madonna, Brittany Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton and a cast of Hollywood tramps dedicated to flaunting the human form; especially without underpants.

The years that October 4th would fall on a Wednesday would give new meaning to the phrase “Hump Day”. In any event the only way to traverse the ills of this country is through a national procreation day. Grow, grow, grow should be our chant. That is the same tune sung by many women any night of the week in most married person’s bedrooms around the country. The guy’s part of the process is like that of the blind man on the corner, only there’s no cup, no pencils; just an equal amount of begging. In a few years I’m sure the day destined to be the happiest of all holidays will carry it’s own slogan; something like “National Procreation Day, America’s favorite F-ing holiday!”