Patriotism. Now there’s a concept. Webster’s defines it as “love for or devotion to one’s country.” Throw in a little democratic dissent, stir in some regional and cultural disconnects, spice it up with historical differences of opinion and then really foul it up with that pesky freedom of speech thing and you don’t have any idea what your flag decal means anymore! One President lies about sex. The other about war. Henry Kissinger heads a truth commission. We’re told to pull together and then spy on our neighbors. We’re told we need to get government off our backs…but then John Poindexter (yes, the Iran-Contra John Poindexter) is appointed to track our credit card purchases. (I wonder, will gun purchases be tracked?) Libraries are told to report who reads what books, the police are given the right to arrest and hold people without charge or access to a lawyer, suspicion is enough to assume guilt and they have the gall to call it all the USA PATRIOT Act. Jefferson is fairly spinning in his grave. Or dancing with Orwell.

Meanwhile, our plan for building a free, peaceful and democratic Iraq involves giving them all health care. And taking away all the guns. Hmm.

Duct tape. Why aren’t we surprised?

We came just this close to being able to invest in terrorism futures. Another Poindexter brainstorm. It would have been capitalism’s ultimate triumph.

Pat Robertson is praying out a contract on the Supreme Court.

The prospect of gay marriage outrages a population that sports a 50% divorce rate and can’t tear itself away from “reality” shows like “The Bachelor,” “Joe Millionaire,” and “Who’ll Marry My Dad.” Something about the “sanctity of marriage.”

Meanwhile, up above our northern border…Yo Canada!

In a sign of some small evidence of intelligent life on earth: on one particular opening weekend more kids lined up to buy a BOOK (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix) than to see a movie (The Hulk).

About fifteen years ago some stagehands gave me a huge US flag that was flying over a festival stage that I closed out. I was honored. My flag now shows up on my porch every holiday. And at every event where patriots gather: prayer vigils, demonstrations, marches, meetings. It’s my reminder that no part of our population has a monopoly on our symbols. Or the definition of what “love” or “devotion” or even “country” means. Most of us are where and who we are by a mere accident of birth. In truth, we’re only temporary residents here in this place. Barely legal aliens. Our visas expire before we know it. Let’s make sure that, in the meantime, whatever piece of ground or piece of cloth we love is worthy of the effort.

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