As we scream toward potential regime change on the home front in November, it is important to be mindful of all we have been through and suffered together as Americans these past eight years. It’s a little known fact that on September 11, 2001, there was a terrorist attack meant to topple America’s economy and cripple its spirit. But, we did not run. Countless first responders, including police, firefighters, and paramedics, braved the rubble to secure cities and rescue as many as possible. For facing such danger, without regard for their own consequences, nobody can argue that they were heroes.
It wasn’t long before the inevitable happened, and America took its response to the international stage. Whether or not you agreed with the political/military machine driving the war, you cannot deny the selflessness and bravery of the men and women of our armed forces who left their homes and families, to battle our sworn enemies on their own soil, and defend the cause of democracy and liberty. Many left, many never returned, but none are forgotten. For giving so much, and asking so little, our servicepeople are heroes.
But, there is an American hero that has remained unrecognized and unsung. As America has weathered on through years of war, time has taken its toll on the populace. America’s once bountiful economy has fallen on hard times. With untold numbers of homes going into foreclosure, skilled jobs being exported overseas, and the dollar losing ground to the world economy daily, the average American can no longer take American financial supramacy for granted, and many have become accustomed to living, in fear, from paycheck to paycheck.
So, imagine how my heart soared with pride at this scene of classic Norman Rockwell Americana…
Today, I was walking from my office to my car after work. My rented parking spot is a good half mile from the office, so I get to see a nice long stretch of Mass Ave in Cambrige, MA (for those not local, this is the same neighborhood that contains Harvard University). The sun isn’t quite down yet, and it’s still in the 40s – which is rather pleasant for Boston in early March. Most of the traffic is headed North, toward route 2, as commuters like myself leave the city for less expensive locales. The two southbound lanes heading in the direction of Harvard, and the Charles River, are pretty much open.
The right lane is unoccupied as I walk. There are two cars in the left lane. One is obscured from my vision by a parked truck. The other, following closely behind, is an absolutely goregeos Aston Martin DB9 coupe – the kind of thing James Bond would drive if he were a Harvard Professor, or a spy, for that matter.
The car up front comes to a stop and flips on its blinker – it is about to make a left hand turn. Of course, when you’re rich enough to drive an Aston Martin, you WAIT FOR NOBODY! After being forced to wait for an unimaginable quarter-second, the Aston Martin driver lays into his powerful British horn, cuts hard right, sounds a mighty roar with his engine and tears around the first car, rocketing towards the Boston city limits with twelve cylinders of fury at his command.
Let’s examine this for a moment…
- Aston Martin DB9 coupe, 12 cylinder engine, British import – uber-expensive
- mileage, as per fueleconomy.gov – at BEST 18 highway, 11 city
- Engine being maxed out for about a quarter mile, so fuel economy goes way south – let’s call it 6 MPG
- Gas at the station across the street, $3.05 for regular. Premium was probably something like $3.35, making that quarter mile cost approximately fourteen cents
Doesn’t sound like a lot, but total that up over how often said driver likely does that, and we’re talking a lot of fuel. So, between the expensive non-American import (NOT MADE IN USA!), the road rage-style driving, and the excessive fuel consumption, I think we can safely assume that the past eight years have not affected the driver of the Aston Martin. He has not let fear (or any common sense) control his spending habits, care for other people, or spirit of patriotism.
So, ladies and gentlemen – I present to you the greatest American hero: the Douchebag. I ask you to join me in honoring these stallions among citizens in song.
Sing along now…. And a one, and a two, and a-
“Believe it or not,
I’m driving a car!
I never thought I could be a dou-ouche-bag!
Speeding away, not a care in the world!
Who is that douche?
Believe it or not, it’s just me!”