AMERICA THIS IS SERIOUS

America! Happy 230th! You still look pretty good these days, staying healthy, staying strong. Sure you've lost some of your luster, you're a little overweight, and you've got some debt, but you're working on it. Hey, Rome was just getting to its feet at your age. The British Empire was still in short-pants at 230. You're doing just fine.

I must admit, though, I do worry about you. As you get older, America, I notice you becoming more and more like your father: refusing to assent to laws; affecting to render Military power independent of and superior to Civil power; depriving us of trial by jury; transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretend offences. You've even taken to hanging around with a plain spoken, homely, simple George, who many suspect of being mentally ill.

But it's a phase. The 230s are a tough age. Your body is changing in ways you don't understand; you're having feelings you've never had before; there's hair where there wasn't hair before - plus you just had that millenial transition, a couple of wars, all these energy problems, the rest of the world just keeps messing with you, and, well, you know - you'll grow out of it. I'm confident of that.

As for now, happy sort-of-birthday America, and here's to another 230. I still love you, and pledge to you - mutually, I hope - my Life, my Fortune, and my Sacred Honor.