I watched the mobs celebrating outside the White House with their modern-day pitchforks and torches: Bush and Obama campaign signs and, held aloft, an iPad that said "Obama 1, Osama 0."
"U-S-A! U-S-A!" chanted the crowds lustily, making me itch. Young 20-somethings screamed primally for the cameras, flexing their delts when they weren't giving the "we're #1" sign. It was indistinguishable from celebratory college basketball fans.
"This is our generation's V-J Day!" chirped one 20 year old, except I'm sure he mentally spelled it veejay.
Note to Gen Why: you did not lead lives of fear and deprivation. You did not have to serve. You did not see a generation of men vaporize from existence. You did not collectively rise to an occasion and save the world. And oh yeah, in as much as there are equivalent modern wars, those wars continue this morning.
Shut up and stop oversalting my fries.
If there was a silver lining to the bloodlust, it was the following scene. A young white guy, a young black guy, and a young Hispanic guy all popped their shirts and screamed at the camera at once—united by an idiocy that transcends all racial distinctions. It was heartwarming.
"That...that's America!" I wept.
Asians were absent and presumed to be left running the country for the duration of the party.