Memorizing the Declaration of Independence

You know how I'm always talking about how smart I am? Well, I thought I was, but now I'm not sure.

I've long had the desire to memorize things. I got the idea for this from a little old lady I used to know who memorized and recited poetry all the time -- all the time -- and always followed her recital the same way, a half hour of lambasting the rest of us, who hadn't memorized a thing. It seems that when she was in school, back in 1914, kids had to memorize a lot of stuff. It's like they didn't have enough books to go around or something. Either that or they had nothing better to do.

I know this is true of her generation, because I heard my own grandparents reciting a few simpler things they'd memorized in school, also ages ago. Now they're dead, and the little old lady -- who incidentally only had one eye, which makes it much more impressive; she wore glasses but one glass was fogged over so you couldn't see the sewn up place on her face -- is also dead.

And now here I sit, with two functioning eyes, and the vast library of the world wide web to assist me -- to find things worth memorizing -- and I couldn't memorize a grocery list. Or something simpler. The main problem might be I didn't get started early enough in life. So my brain doesn't have the trained grooves for memory work. I'd check out that website that helps you exercise your brain -- the woman advertising it on TV's kind of cute -- but I can't remember what it is.

Anyway, today being the Fourth of July, I had the idea of reading the Declaration of Independence. I've read it a couple times in my life. Mostly what I could already tell you by memory is that the king of England at the time was named George. That's a start, although admittedly it's not a heckuva lot to go on. What it was, what was going on is, the Americans at the time were very aggravated at George, so they wrote up the Declaration of Independence ... and the rest is history. Something, something. And our first leader was also a George!

OK, for some reason it's always easier for me to remember the first few words of something than it is the next few. Like the Bible. I always remember, "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth," words to that effect. The rest, I could probably hack out a few more words more or less accurately, but, again, my memory isn't what it should be. Did I already say that?

Let's review how far I got: "When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to--" No, I just checked the webpage and the next word is "for," not "to." I'll just copy and past the first paragraph and we can review it:

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

According to that, "Course" is capitalized. Must be one of the Quaint Customs of the Time. So we've got a "Course of human events," the progression of time, pointing to a particular moment in that course, the "When." Then there's a people feeling it's necessary to dissolve the political bands that they had with another. Then they intend to assume "among the powers of the earth," other countries, a separate and equal station, blah blah blah. I'm sure George didn't care for this: the Laws of Nature and Nature's God entitle them to make this assumption. OK, When that necessity arises, they care enough about the opinions of the rest of the world to declare the causes of the separation.

That's a little different than now. Isn't our attitude now just to stomp the crap out of people and let them like it or lump it? Maybe I'm thinking of some other country, but I'm pretty sure ... I seem to recall ... although my memory ain't great.

That, my friends, the first paragraph is frankly more than I can handle, let alone the rest of it. I'm not one to admit failure easily, but the Declaration is simply too long for me to get it entire thing down pat. Not this year! Maybe next year when I'm older ... and, I hope, wiser.

P.S. -- Obama ought to prank the Republicans and just recite the Declaration of Independence on the radio. Since most of them likely have no knowledge of it, they'd hear it and start bitching, "He's totally full of hot air!" Then he goes, "It's the Declaration of Independence, you bozos!" They'd go, "It came out of your mouth, we still hate it!"

The NSA Cleans Out My Garage

The news reports are telling us these guys -- the National Security Agency (NSA) -- can do anything. They're able to keep track of every call you've ever made, every piece of mail you've ever sent or received, and every note your friends used to pass in school. There's nothing they're not good at! Giving lie to the old complaint that the government can't do anything right.

Seriously, with this record of efficiency, we need them to keep going and take over the rest of the government. Get in there and start with Congress. Congress can't get anything done, anything that does anyone any good. Put the NSA on the job. Start right at the top and maybe they can accomplish something. Then they can work their way down. Far down, as in helping each one of us with our day to day lives. I know I could use some help cleaning out my garage.

And if they didn't want to do it just to be nice guys, maybe I could trick them into doing it. Sort of like Tom Sawyer and the fence, except I'll have to drop hints that maybe there's something incriminating in my garage. They're actually is ... more about that later ... but by the time they get here, of course I'll have that stuff safely tucked in the hidden room I've been building. Which is right there in the garage, but it's small -- they probably won't notice it.

For the most part, all I have in my garage is the typical everyday crap of life. Stuff that would overrun the house if I kept it in here. Nothing too important, but still too good to just throw away. Old books, records, rugs, lamps, a typewriter, and just boxes and boxes of miscellaneous stuff. There's quite a few Christmas decorations, some of which are only in sacks, and some of those are tipped over. It seems like I step on and break an ornament every time I'm out there. If I can get the NSA to clean it out, that'd be great. Who knows? They might find some unregistered nicknacks, bought with cash at garage sales, very tough to trace.

Then there's the other stuff, which will have to go in the hidden room. I know everyone will think I'm kidding, but that's only because you didn't have a Great Aunt Natasha working as a secretary at the Pentagon in the late '50s and early '60s. The fact is, I have extensive Soviet correspondence from the '60s, going into the '70s. I was one of those kids, thanks to Aunt Natasha, who was a "goodwill pen pal" with Khrushchev, which later bloomed into a nice relationship with Breshnev. For them it was an in with America's youth, hoping to undermine us, but for me, I was only doing it for extra credit in Social Studies.

Still, it probably should've been cleared through official channels. As it was, I was only too happy to fulfill their strange requests. Like going to Air Force installations and using my "secret spy binoculars," which they provided and periodically showed up "to have developed." I never knew what that meant, developing binoculars? Other than that, we had quite a bit of correspondence about the comings and goings of local Civil Defense volunteers. I still remember this one old guy from town and the day his Jeep blew up. Must've been something wrong with it.

Natasha's husband, our Great Uncle Boris, was also a help. Anything he needed, us sneaky kids were happy to help him with. Especially if it meant being paid off in rare Russian candy. Which I, ever the entrepreneur, used to trade with other kids for Krugerrands and Cuban cigars. It was very good candy, they say, but the cigars were better. There was more than one bright side ... The kids at my school did great on international affairs quizzes.

Later, and this is stuff I shouldn't mention; it's all more recent, there were Uncle Osama and Uncle Saddam, not really uncles but that's what they called themselves. Wow, the things they used to send! Gift certificates for flying lessons. I always figured they were kidding. And the things they would say! No one could be that crazy, wanting that much destruction for the United States. After all, I was like their favorite nephew. OK, they did tell us they wouldn't completely destroy America till they got us to safety. So we didn't say anything to the cops. Those records will go in the secret room, for sure.

I just got back from the garage. And speaking of Christmas decorations, there's a bag of ribbons on the floor that must puff up with air by miracle, because every time I try to walk through the garage, I step on it, and I can hear the air hissing out again. Weird. The things I put up with.

I looked around and there isn't much else that would be incriminating. I have a hymnal from Burma out there. But that's nothing to worry about, is it? Only the channels I went through to get it, it probably involved some persecution. And maybe a death or two. I need to hide it.

My Star Spangled Tribute To America

"This is MY country, land that I love. This is MY country, something-something above. I pledge thee my allegiance, America, my home sweet. Yes, this is MY country, to have and to hold." The patriotic blood boils just to hear the precious lines of our most cherished songs.

And on this 4th of July -- with global warming scalding us with 104 degree F temperatures -- boiling blood is just what I need. So it's a welcome thing. Crank up the heat, pretty soon when we sing, "From sea to shining sea," we'll be able to actually see both seas from the middle and appreciate our great songs more.

I've got a little tribute to America I want to lay on you. In some ways, it sounds bitter [It's already written]. But I prefer to look at it as constructive criticism, exercising my freedom of speech that my blessed uncles (on my mom's side) fought for and very well could've died for had push come to shove.

All right, here it is:

AMERICA:
Your sons are all cross-eyed.
Your daughters are all bowlegged.
Your mothers wear army boots.
Your fathers dress in drag.
Your grandmothers are loose women.
Your grandfathers can't get it up.
Your great writers are all hacks.
Your statesmen are very perplexed.
Your churches are your last hope.
Your grocery stores sell junk food.
Your flag has more stars than stripes.
Your roads are falling apart.
Your last victory was conquering polio.
Your old westerns have bad, fading soundtracks.
Your bald eagle could use a toup.

OK, that's it. It's a beautiful tribute, if I do say so myself, something I hope will make your Fourth of July holiday even more special.