The other night, I took some time away from dying of pneumonia to go to a baseball game, where (it was pointed out) I did not stand up for the national anthem as interpreted by a gaggle of keening contestants from the Miss USA Pageant. To tell the truth, it didn’t even occur to me to do so, both because I was unfamiliar with the custom and because I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on. This wasn’t like the time I brought a book to the symphony so I wouldn’t have to focus on all the background music; I was simply engrossed in watching the rain fall against the stadium lights and coughing up my infected lungs. But I wouldn’t have stood anyway. I am strongly opposed to nationalism.
I am, however, in my quiet way, a patriot, and yesterday, I did my patriotic duty and paid my taxes. Unlike almost every nationalist who would fault me for not acknowledging the star-spangled banner’s last gleaming, or whatever the hell, I am happy to contribute my part toward bettering the infrastructure of the “land of the free.” Paying one’s taxes honestly is, outside of participating in fair elections and joining the armed forces in times of legitimate war (voluntarily or otherwise), one of the only patriotic duties an American citizen can perform, and it is interesting to note exactly which citizens comply with each of these duties and with what amount of gusto.
Yesterday, I woke up early, spent hours sorting through the Kilimanjaro of papers in the corner of my office with one hand and brushing away the accumulated spiders and dust bunnies and dog hairs with the other. I must love you, Uncle Sam, or I would not have taken the time to save every single piece of paper I have ever encountered, each cross-referenced by whether it looks prettier at the top of the pile or in one of the substrata.
Much, much later, I discovered I didn’t actually make any money last year and thus owe no taxes. So I now comply with my alternate patriotic duty, which is to tactfully suggest that the Miss USA contestants not quit their day jobs. Really.
