Happy semiquincentennial birthday, America, and to those who celebrate. That’s not exactly a word that flies off my fingers with ease, so with your permission I’m gonna make any references to it as SQC. Not that I intend to do so at many points beyond today’s musing anyhoo.
But I will admit that I’m more than a little stoked about the fact that I’m still around and in pretty damn good physical health for another dose of patriotic pomp and circumstance. I do have fond memories of the build-up to the Bicentennial, especially the ambitious CBS effort know as the Bicentennial Minutes that taught me a lot more about the history of the American Revolution than any of my teachers had to that point. They were liberally dropped in to their schedule at the cost of traditonal spots and promos, and considering how much of my local affiliate I was watching in that era that shouldn’t come as a surprise. Heck, they even found a couple of folks I was already exceptionally familiar with to provide more personal appeal.
There’s no such similar effort that anyone at CBS attempted this time around to educate the generations that weren’t around at that time–not even a direct link to the surviving vignettes that an ambitious YouTube subscriber who goes by mystical rose took the time to compile. They were probably way too busy wrapping themselves in the parochial version of patriotism they have embraced of late that has taken the ratings of their morning and evening newscasts significantly down, not to mentioned traded off a nightly habit for millions of Stephen Colbert viewers for a far smaller but more immediately profitable audience. Judging by the view count of those Bicentennial Minutes, it sure appears that scant few of those now former viewers were history fans.
At least in terms in raw numbers it would appear that a substantially larger number have discovered the likes of self-described “public figures” such as Robin Snyder, Allen Clifton, and who I’ve come to know as the “two Heathers”–Delaney Reese and Cox Richardson. They unfailingly find their way into my digital feeds, sometimes multiple times a day. And for those of you who sometimes come after me for being too verbose, I would point you toward to some of their most recent posts. 
Richardson further self-identifies as a political historian who uses facts and history to put the news in context. She tends to be a tad more succinct than many others and typically limits herself to one drop per day, which may be why she has 3.8 million Facebook followers (To be sure, she has millions more on her other feeds, which includes a nightly live Substack chat). Clifton, a Texan with a mere 111,000 followers, sh-tposts multiple times a day, seemingly whenever he happens to be triggered by almost anything he happens to see that comes out of the mind or mouth of a certain president that clearly lives rent-free in his head. A growing percentage of these 1000-word minimum doses of self-therapy are inevitably prefaced with the caveat “I’ve said this before”, which if nothing else gives me a cue to doomscroll in another direction. 
Since I’m a slave to numbers, I can’t dismiss the fact that their efforts have been WAY more successful at attracting followers and readers than mine. One might think that folks with such formidable pulpits might use their digital superpowers for the greater good of amplifying the more encouraging words of others–especially people who don’t outright own a platform of “truths” which his mistress of the moment goes out of her way to populate with AI slop and fawning memes while they–if one is to believe REGIME CHANGE–dictates in his moldy carpeted bathroom at all hours of the night. At the risk of echoing Clifton’s clickbait tactics, more regular readers know I this is a topic that I’ve previously mused about more than once. But at least I tend to space out my rants over months rather than hours, and I won’t clutter your screens with such redundancies unless you choose to click your way to it.
Look, I’ve made it perfectly clear that I have scant little patience for the lies and obsessions, not to mention the quirky hygiene habits and dietary choices the octogenarian-in-chief regularly makes. I don’t think I’d be all that upset if the intense wishes that far less prolific folks on my feeds have expressed that he join the ranks of Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and James Monroe as presidents to die on July 4th were to somehow come true. Lord knows I’ve been reminded several times the last time I checked my device of the 107 degree heat he claims he will determinedly drone on in tonight. Hate me if you will for that sentiment.
But at the same time today I am gonna wear red, white and blue at work today and I plan to watch multiple fireworks shows tongiht from a convenient rooftop perch I discovered when I was a homeowner in my area. I might even wave a flag. In spite of who a plurality of this country chose to put in charge of it when given what so many felt was a binary choice with infirm and insincere alternatives 20 months ago, I still love America enough to celebrate it. And that I’m still around a half-century after living through an America still reeling from the corruption and pardoning of a Republican president and the unelected lame duck that was presiding over the festivites of our 200th year that was not exactly a utopia at that time–but in hindsight a way more enjoyable ride than the roller coaster we’re on now.
So I’m simply gonna nicely ask those who seem to spend an inordinate amount of time at their keyboards yelling at clouds and yet not even trying to offer viable alternatives to maybe, just maybe give it a rest for the next few hours? Maybe just take a step back and acknowledge in spite of your relentless bitching and moaning we at least still live in a country where for the moment we still have the right to say what we want and focus on what matters to us? Even if it happens to be a couple of disrupters who chose to compete for clicks with you all?
That’s what I intend to do. I don’t even plan on checking Facebook. It’s the SQC, FFS. Enjoy.
Until next time…