America's Saddest Birthday Ever
Birthdays are always a riot when you're young, right? The cake ... the presents ... the party ... it's your day, and your parents are the ones who organize the whole thing. But as you grow older, your birthday becomes more melancholy, eventually representing both an occasion where you have to make merry even if your heart isn't it and a reminder of your encroaching decrepitude. So too is this true for America! Our nation's bickering gay dads, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, died on the country's 50th birthday, and it's been all downhill ever since. After jump, find out how our country is trying to cheer itself up for the Big Two-Three-Four.
Your aging eyes will thank you if you click the comics to make them bigger.
Sometimes the best way to celebrate is the old-fashioned way. Like some wholesome costumed fun! And what sort of costume would America like to see more than the Statue of Liberty? That's how the America Birthday Party kicked off: With a tall, striking lady, painted green, toga wrapped around her, holding a birthday cake aloft. With her solid metal appearance and kind but firm expression, she let all the partygoers know: we've had tough times before, but everything, ultimately, would be all right. Then the music started playing, and that toga started unwrapping.
Yeah, things got a little bit crazy at this party! Some of the costumes pushed beyond the limits of good taste. Check out this dude, for instance, who came dressed as Nutzalcoatl, the ancient Mesoamerican bird-god of gonads. With a long, flowing mane of feathers, a sharp, pointed beak, and a hypnotically plump and spherical single testicle perched in front of his belly, he represents a potent combination of fertility and violent power.
Even some of the Foreigns got in on the sexy action. At some point late in the evening, Uncle Sam and China went downstairs to the makeshift basement S&M dungeon, where our friend from the East showed off his own trademark variation on the St. Andrew's Cross. Have fun, fellas! Don't forget the safe-phrase: "Hold the yuan's overall value steady against a basket of currencies."
With all this bacchanalia going on around him, can you blame Uncle Sam for eventually reaching a higher state of consciousness (i.e., blacking out)? Who among hasn't woken up after a particularly crazy night and not remembered the last few hours before falling asleep the night before? Unfortunately for our national symbol, though, that crucial missing time would explain why exactly there was the dismembered head of Free Market, the famous racehorse owned by Milton Friedman, in his bed. Had Uncle Sam killed the horse? Had he had sex with it, then killed it? Where was the rest of the beast? Had he eaten it? You can understand why he is so traumatized.
But wait, who's in charge of the war while all this selfish hedonism is going on? Well, don't you worry, Obama's got it taken care of. For instance, when he heard that Stanley McChrystal was going around bad-mouthing him, he did the only thing he could: take him out to the ol' C-in-C outhouse, and then very sternly sodomize him. Then Obama fired him, because don't-ask-don't-tell hasn't been repealed yet! Ironic, huh?
In other, significantly less cheery, news, the Little Mermaid died.