This is how I always celebrate killing all the Indians and snubbing our noses to the British. But this year is extra special because the greatest comedian in the known universe, scratch that, the world, just got a beer named after him. Well not him exactly but a catch phrase of his. That’s right, Larry The Cable Guy is the proud father of Git-R-Done Beer
“I say Git-R-Done! And I’m fat! That means I’m funny America"
I had some insider information on this product, one of my cousins in Texas knows a guy who knows a guy who knows his own sister real well and she told me that this stuff was saddlin’ up to the market this week so I pre-ordered 17 flats of it. They came to the house last night so I test drank a couple of flats. It tastes pretty good for being a novelty beer. And by that I mean it tastes like regurgitated salmon. But hey, it gets you drunk, wait…it Gits-R-Done! Man,I just figured out what that meant, how fucked up is that?! I thought it was just some sort of internet speak for hicks but now that I know what it means it puts it on a whole new level for me. Larry, this Get-R-Done’s for you,brother.
Another way to celebrate how we escaped enslavement by the Ukrainian overlord shoemakers of the 1840s is to have a barbeque party. I don’t like to fuck around with just a single barbeque, those things are for housewives, desperate housewives if you ask me, and a lot of people do ask me, I’m not just blowing smoke here. So yeah, lots and lots of barbeques that can travel is the way to show America who’s number one...which is America but if any towel heads are watchin’ from afar then they’ll know as well.
The trailer behind it is loaded with dead pigs
So I hitch this bad boy up to Youngblood’s flatbed truck and get the whole family to stand up in the back drinking their beer, even the kids because this is a special day. Then I stand on the barbeque trailer, or the barbeque trailer as I like to call it, and cook up some of the finest pork, wieners, ribs, steaks and dog-burgers that this town has ever seen. Then we travel to all the poor neighborhoods (you know who you are) and I fling the meat backwards into the grateful hands of my adoring fans. I’m not sure if they mind catching sides of scorching hot meat covered in honey garlic sauce at 35 miles per hour but I’ve been doing this for a few years now and if there’s been any complaints I haven’t heard any.
The only complaint around here is that there isn’t any more of me to go around. Another side of Dog-Sausage, honey? Yes please, is the answer, oh yeah. That barbeque rig is way better then the homemade barbeque kit I used about five years ago, I got the kit from the Franklin Mint, it cost $23,000 but the instructions said it was real easy. Real easy my ass, that thing was about as complicated as a David Lynch movie.
Ok, who asked for the cheeseburger with extra dirt?
The 4th of July is a way to celebrate the American spirit, and we do that around here by making things from scratch. That’s the way Americans have persevered throughout the years. Why, where would we be if Ben Franklin hadn’t made the first pair of sunglasses in the world? We’d be dead that’s where. We’d be buying dead mice on a stick for dinner from some Russian owned marketplace. I always picture those places to have a lot of gray in the for some reason, anyone else? To commemorate Mr. Franklin I decided to make my own fireworks. If Zanzibar or whatever his name is at the 7-11 thinks I’m payin’ his jacked up prices then he must be jacked up himself, on high price drugs, whatever those are, probably glue, or cocaine.
This is what little Gary boy brought in for show and tell
Once we get those babies on the go the whole neighborhood will know how much I love myself and my country, by giving my family second degree burns to the hands and face. We also have some relatives over, I can’t remember all of their names but one of my nephews, Gregory, came over from Alabama with a homemade fireworks shooter. He said it was hard to sneak it onto the plane but it was sure worth it.
Good thing they didn’t do a cavity search
After we loaded it up Gregory went on about how the West has corrupted the earth and that we are all living in sin and that Islam will rise again bla bla bla. I just tuned him out and loaded the gun powder into the launcher, what a gas. Well, when that thing went off the recoil was so strong I went through the windshield of Gregory's Toyota Yaris. Good thing those cars are made of cardboard and duct tape, otherwise it might've stung a bit. That aside, the fireworks were amazing. Well, we couldn't really see them for a bit because the rocket launcher shot them too far into the sky. Their re-entry into Earth's atmosphere was beautiful though. What wasn't as beautiful was their first time-entry into Phil, my neighbor's plate glass window that protected his living room and then having them catch said living room on fire.
This might not be the best time to ask Phil, but can I get my whipper snipper back that I lent you?
It all worked out in the end though because you know how kids love fire trucks, as well as police cars and ambulances. What a day, what a country. If you're an American, keep on truckin', and if you're not, keep on walkin' to your own country because this land is our land and not yours, fo sho'.
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