Psychic Karate Novels by Ryan O'Laughlin

Psychic Karate Novels by Ryan O'Laughlin
Psychic Karate Novels by Ryan O'Laughlin

Ryan's Independence Day Thought-Vomit

Internet Karate Cult-Sheep, 

American exceptionalism hits a zenith every year on July 4th. Here's how we do it, buddy: we form an unruly mob, irresponsibly scorch poorly-regulated pork products and blow a crater in our own back lawns with explosive devices deemed illegal in all other developed nations. Shitty, mass-produced domestic swill beer gets consumed, ensuring our children and pets are put in harm's way throughout the course of our panic-inducing revelry.

Check this out, bro. A couple hundred years back, we decided to peace out of the biggest, baddest nanny-state the world has ever known... as ungracefully as we could possibly manage. When confronted with a government or ideology that thinks it knows better than us, this is how we fucking roll, and we roll all kinda deep on this particular subject. 

Ours is the last nation on Earth that will be invaded by a foreign aggressor. Each year, our enemies get a clear picture of the kind of sloppy ass-kicking they'd get as we blow fingers off our hands, blast out windows and set the toolshed on fire in a backyard BBQ gone fiendishly sideways. The exceptionalism of the American democratic experience is a stubborn, brutish refusal to be governed, even in the face of overwhelming rationality. How else can anyone explain the subhuman grotesques our political parties are about to begrudgingly nominate?

Seems like every five minutes, some ideological asshole comes out of the woodwork with a master plan for our nation's betterment. Typically, that plan is nonspecific, vaguely xenophobic fear-mongering at the lowest common denominator of intellectual thought. For a brief moment, the media and internet will make said asshole appear to be popular and gain some vague sense of momentum as the hateful rhetoric builds steam on Twitter, generating wave after wave of social media stupidity. The moderate, silent majority awakens to the growing fear that their next leader may be an angry, prejudiced, warmongering shitbag obsessed with his own hateful agenda that has more to do with his own self-image and personal fortune than it does with reality.

Of course, I'm talking about Vlad Abacus. Here, on the day of our nation's independence, what better time to contemplate the hateful insanity of psychic karate and reject it outright in a drunken, pork-fueled orgy of roman candles and cowboy music? As Americans, our way of saying, "fuck you" to the elite demagogues of the world is to shit in our own back lawn and set that fucking shit on fire, bro.

Join me, brethren! Abandon the hateful cult of psychic karate and replace it with shitty domestic beer, amateur grilling techniques and explosions! THAT'S the kinda party our founding fathers envisioned and no foreign, elitist school of thought can hope to infringe upon the most embarrassing, sloppy, self-endangering form of revolutionary democracy mankind has ever countenanced!

Somebody save me a bacon-wrapped hot dog...

~ Ryan