Two Fiddy

This year marks the United States' 250th anniversary.

Still a young country by some metrics, but fully an adult.

And it got me to think, I probably won't see 300th. Or if I get there, I probably won't be able to do much about it.

So 250th we will celebrate.

'Merica.

It's weird to me to live in a time where patriotism is considered by some as bad.

Where waving Old Glory can get you hurt.

At least here. On home turf.

That's weird, to me.

I love this country.

My country.

Tis of thee.

I'd wear yellow and red and shake and beat up heels, but yellow and red ain't my colors.

I'm more rose gold.

I tell you what, though, things are very interesting.

I think there is a war going on.

But instead of good versus evil, it's a little more nuanced. A little easier to spot.

I'd say it is the beautiful versus the ugly.

There is a war on beautiful.

Usually fought by uglies.

And I hate to say it, but we outnumbered.

That's right, that was just a sneaky way to say I think I'm beautiful.

A beautiful patriot. I'm a Giants fan so that "p" will stay lowercase.

Speaking of Harbaugh, I recall a story he and his brother shared about their father. How every morning, as he dropped his two sons off at school, he would say the same thing.

"Now, boys, I want you to attack this day with an enthusiasm previously unknown to mankind."

I heard that decades ago and I still remember it verbatim. Because, man, if that ain't America, well I don't what is.

Now, I'd say that to you right now, but I'm not your daddy. 

Unless my kids are reading this, then, of course I am your daddy.

I'm talking to these other people who want me to coach them.

Who want me to mentor them.

Somewhere between 250 and 300, I might be available, but not today.

Not this year.

This year, I celebrate some important birthdays.

To singing your anthem perfectly.

And motivational founding fathers.

Happy birthday.

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