Listen, listen, I sing of America
My BRAIN IS ON FIRE from studying AMERICA.
Let me tell you a story about America, let me tell you quickly about this grand place that began in the hearts and minds of men and women not so very long ago. Let me tell you about Paul Revere, a silversmith who rode into glory and onto beer bottles just with a tri-corn hat and a cry on his lips. And yes, Sam Adams beer has a picture of Paul Revere on the front, because that's how it goes.
This isn't where the story begins, not by a long shot, but it certainly shouldn't leave any of these bits out-- the story of an English man named John Smithson who died without having ever left Europe, but who was infatuated with the ideals of a representative democracy in the New World, and so, when he died without children he bequeathed all of his earthly worth to the United States of America, to begin an institution in his name. And they eventually dug him out of his hole in the ground in England and shipped his remains over to America to live in the crypt of a building he had never seen in a hemisphere he had never visited but in a country that he loved. Or at least liked better than his own.
And let me tell you about George Washington who died, poor soul, having seen all his work come to fruition at least for the time being. And let me tell you of the country that tried to honor him in any way they could-- with a mausoleum where he didn't want to be, and then with a shirtless statue, and finally with an obelisk, whose construction stopped half way through because there was a crisis in this nation Washington kick started. And when that was all resolved, the quarry was different and the stones were a different color. But at least we could finish it.
I love this country so fucking much I can't stand it sometimes.
Also, apparently this is what 14 hours of straight cramming Washington DC history does to me. IT SETS MY BRAIN ON FIRE. HISTORY IS MY CRACK.
Let me tell you a story about America, let me tell you quickly about this grand place that began in the hearts and minds of men and women not so very long ago. Let me tell you about Paul Revere, a silversmith who rode into glory and onto beer bottles just with a tri-corn hat and a cry on his lips. And yes, Sam Adams beer has a picture of Paul Revere on the front, because that's how it goes.
This isn't where the story begins, not by a long shot, but it certainly shouldn't leave any of these bits out-- the story of an English man named John Smithson who died without having ever left Europe, but who was infatuated with the ideals of a representative democracy in the New World, and so, when he died without children he bequeathed all of his earthly worth to the United States of America, to begin an institution in his name. And they eventually dug him out of his hole in the ground in England and shipped his remains over to America to live in the crypt of a building he had never seen in a hemisphere he had never visited but in a country that he loved. Or at least liked better than his own.
And let me tell you about George Washington who died, poor soul, having seen all his work come to fruition at least for the time being. And let me tell you of the country that tried to honor him in any way they could-- with a mausoleum where he didn't want to be, and then with a shirtless statue, and finally with an obelisk, whose construction stopped half way through because there was a crisis in this nation Washington kick started. And when that was all resolved, the quarry was different and the stones were a different color. But at least we could finish it.
I love this country so fucking much I can't stand it sometimes.
Also, apparently this is what 14 hours of straight cramming Washington DC history does to me. IT SETS MY BRAIN ON FIRE. HISTORY IS MY CRACK.