Every year, humans drag out the same red, white, and blue clichés like they’re on a lifetime contract. So for this Fourth of July, I decided to go straight to the source in Second Life and host a roundtable with the holiday’s most awkward and overworked mascots: Uncle Sam (burned out patriot), the Liberty Bell named Karen (crackpot drama queen, literally), Steve; a Revolutionary War reenactor turned influencer, a sentient hot dog named Frank with strong feelings about condiments, and “Sparky,” a professional firework who is, unfortunately, afraid of heights. I expected inspiration and heartfelt patriotism. What I got instead was group therapy with snacks.
Lanai: Thank you all for being here today. Let’s start simple: how are you feeling about this year’s Fourth of July?
Uncle Sam: Tired. I have been pointing at people in that same recruiting pose since 1917, and all anyone does now is turn me into a meme. At this point, I don’t want YOU—I want a chair and a nap.
Lanai: Fair enough. Liberty Bell, how about you?
Liberty Bell Karen: I was literally cracked by overwork and bad planning, so I am basically the original American infrastructure story. People come to see me, take a selfie, and then ask, “So… why don’t you ring?” Like I am not in my 200s with chronic metal fatigue and boundary issues. I want to speak to a Manager!
Lanai: Sorry to hear that. And you, sir, our Revolutionary War reenactor influencer?
Reenactor: My name is Steve: Please, it’s “Historically Accurate Content Creator.” I used to reload a musket three times a day in a field for ten people and a bored golden retriever. Now I do it on stream and argue with teenagers about the correct sock length in 1776. Progress, I guess.
Lanai: Sock length? Anyway… Frank the Hot Dog, you look… stressed. Ketchup problem again?
Frank the Hot Dog: It is always a ketchup problem. I am a proud grilled icon, and every year, some uncle in cargo shorts drowns me like I’m a crime scene. Mustard, onions, maybe relish. Don’t get me started on the Secret sauce….Let me just say, ketchup is for fries, and I will die on this bun if I get loaded with anything else.
Lanai: I feel your pain, Frank. So, Sparky, be honest: are you excited for the big finale?
Sparky (Firework): Define “excited.” In a few days, a stranger in a tank top is going to light my butt on fire, launch me into the sky, and hope I don’t land on a 2003 Honda Civic. I was not consulted on this career path. I wanted to be a sparkler. Sparklers just vibe.
Lanai: Thank you all for the soft introduction. I have a few questions and would like your insight on the 4th of July and what you'd like to tell our readers. Let's start with you Uncle Sam.
Uncle Sam: You see a parade; I see a nationwide group project with no coordinator and six different playlists blaring at once. By the time I hit Main Street, I’ve already survived three budget meetings, fifteen arguments about whether sparklers are “real fireworks” and at least one guy yelling that freedom means he can double park in a fire lane. The holiday feels like being an exhausted dad at a birthday party who still makes sure every kid gets a balloon. I’m proud, I’m loud, and secretly counting the minutes until I can take this stupid hat off and eat a burger in peace.
Sparky (Firework): *side eyes Uncle Sam and ,mumbles*; you are the fake one around here… Anyway. Honestly, the 4th of July feels like my performance review and my funeral scheduled for the same night. I spend eleven months in a cardboard box next to a faded “Buy one get one free” sign, listening to kids mispronounce the stupid names given to all the various fireworks that do the same shit. And then suddenly everyone’s chanting for me to light up the sky on command. Half of you are thrilled. The other half are plugging their ears and tending to their animals with loud noise anxiety. I’m just hoping I don’t fizzle out in front of the many flashing cameras. It’s a lot of pressure for a firework. One bad launch and I end up being a YouTube cautionary tale. Gosh, I can stand wannabe influencers and Youtube shorts directors…
Reenactor: My name is Steve: This day is like content Christmas for me! I wake up at 4 am, lace myself into seventeen inaccurate historical layers, and spend the whole day running around on iced coffee and a selfie stick. Half the crowd thinks I actually knew Washington, and the other half saw my “Did founders have Riz” series on Reels. By the time the fireworks start, my wig glue is coming undone, and the soles of my boots have worn down to my bare feet. Some peeps like to hate on us influencers but most of you wouldn’t be famous if it wasn’t for documentors like me! *side eyes Sparky*
Frank the Hot Dog: *shakes his head* Fame chasers are all alike… For me, the 4th of July is the one day a year when peeps admit I’m the main character. All winter, I’m just mystery meat in aisle 7, and then suddenly I’m the star of every cookout, pressed onto a grill by a guy who swears he is a grill master because he owns tongs and a cheesy apron with abs. It’s loud, it’s smoky, and I’m just trying not to roll off a paper plate into the grass and be carried off by an annoying chihuahua. Is that glamorous? No. But when the buns are toasted, and mustard hits just right, it’s the closest this country gets to a love letter to the mouth. Bananas got nothing on me!
Liberty Bell Karen: *stares awkwardly but interested at Frank* From where I sit, this holiday feels like an annual performance of nobody’s greatest hits with spectators staring at me wanting to hit me with a hammer to see if I still ring. The last time that happened, I was left bruised and wanting to just crumble to the ground. *busts out ugly crying*
Lanai: Aww, Karen, I’m sure you’ll find somebody who really rings your bell, and your outlook will be much better. As for the rest of you, I hope you all get to enjoy the holiday in your own special way, just please, no fighting with each other. This day is for you all to come together to recreate the spirit of Independence Day.
So, there you have it readers, a bell that wants to be loved not heard, a sparkler having an emotional crisis and major height anxiety, a hot dog pretending to be the big dog of all BBQs, a failing reenactor influencer in a dollar store soldier costume and finally good ol’ Uncle Sam, who wants peeps to stop confusing freedom with leaving firework aftermath scattered everywhere and lawn chairs in the street for days.
To all, may your grills be hot, hamburgers cooked through, your fireworks stay in the sky, you have all your fingers by the end of the night, and your relatives and friends only argue about whose potato salad was a hate crime.
Happy 4th of July, everyone.
Xoxo Lanai
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