Slightly Off the Mark: A Grand Old Flag

The American flag means a lot to me. Of course, it's just a symbol--but what a symbol.

And so, I take a lot of photos of it, as I do with anything that interests me.

We line it up for special occasions.

It stands in our cemeteries.

It lines our streets.

It decorates fire trucks.

It flies at half mast in tribute.

It shows us that the States, as suggested in the name, are United.

It's colorful. And you know what? It's beautiful. In the end it's symbolic of the fact that, for all our mistakes and failures, we're still a great nation; full of the kind of people who, like dogs, are the best: mutts.

But do you know what the best thing about the flag is? You can hate it. You can hate what it stands for. You can hate the country it symbolizes, and do you know what will happen to you? Nothing. I mean, maybe you don't want to say it too loudly at a rodeo! But the government's not going to come after you. No gulag. No reeducation camp. This is a country where you're free to hate your country, free to love it, free to not care about it at all.

Of course, individuals have the right to not listen to you, which is exactly what I will do. Um, won't do? But if we have an ounce of reason, we can still live together.

That's what makes us great.

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