I’m not the most patriotic person. It’s not that I’m anti-patriotic, exactly. I appreciate my American citizenship, and I’m happy enough to have been born here. I just don’t really muster a “love it or leave it” kind of passion for the U.S. Like, for some really cool contributions the country has made to the world, it also has at least it’s share of bad shit that’s made a whole lot of people (including a lot its own citizens) really suffer unnecessarily. A wise friend told me recently that’s probably the case for every country, which sort of rings true.

My relationship to the Fourth of July holiday is similar. I like a day off and potato salad, but I really resent my neighbors insisting on setting off illegal fireworks that put my dog on edge for days. When I see a home flying an American flag, I don’t assume that the people who live there are the worst stereotype of insular, egotistical, homophobic, racist, hyper-nationalists… but I wonder. So, me finally getting around to post my Fourth of July post on Juy 6 somehow seems apt.

I do get a kick out of the occasionally clever twist on American patriotism that sometimes shows up when it comes to homoerotic wrestling. Hunks who don stars and stripes gear (which is actually frowned upon by serious patriots, right?) typically show up as the handsome, earnest babyface heroes who get their asses handed to them by nefarious heels. For some reason, that trope tickles me. It’s definitely not because I’m unpatriotic. But I just recognize how annoying over the top American patriotism can be, and there’s something satisfying about seeing cocky boys in red, white, and blue get the manifest destiny beat right out of them.

So, sure, go USA (!).