Pr3++yG33kyTh1ng

Earlier this week I got my very first promotional offer from British Airways since usurping the title of Viscount.
Oddly, there were discounted rates to fly and celebrate the 4th of July in London.
I'm not sure that celebrating the 4th of July in London is as big a deal as St. Patrick's Day in Boston or Mardi Gras in New Orleans.
In fact, I doubt very much as many firearms are discharged into the air in London towards the end of a drunken day cooking out given the low rate of gun ownership there.
I'm also certain that people in London don't do quite as much to help the Chinese economy as we do in the States by buying tons of fireworks in every parking lot plywood stand we can find.
For the record, we didn't blow anything up yesterday anyway.
Instead, we visited with friends and watched strangers across the bayou engage in their own hours-long rocket-fest. And we saw part of a Back to the Future marathon. What's more American than that?
In other news, we found out that Gwynyth will be returning home on Saturday. We miss her a lot and plan to spend the next couple of days staying up late, eating junk food and swearing randomly and loudly to get it all out of our systems for the next year.
Tonight, if all goes according to plan, we will combine this activity with my ongoing research into the coming robot uprising. Noted documentarian Michael Bay has pieced together what looks like a fascinating piece of work on the subject. Also, the theatre we've chosen serves beer, so we should be able to quell our panic at the thought of the fast-approaching subservience of all organic life. Beer is good like that.