Independence Day. In many, many forms. (Ridgewood, Queens)

It is July 4th, 2006. Easily the most patriotic day in the United States. And here I am: An American Jew, (grandson of two Holocaust survivors no less) sitting in a 100+ year old German Beer Hall in Ridgewood, Queens cheering "JA, DEUTSCHLAND!" during the Germany vs Italy match in the World Cup.

Why? Cause I'm independent. I'm free.

I think of the irony of the fact that it's July 4th and I'm watching a sport that America couldn't care less about. The two teams duking it out: Italy and Germany were two of the three we fought against in the greatest war this planet has yet seen. And I'm watching it in the most ethnically diverse county in the world.

I think of the irony that I have a Brooklyn tattoo on my chest, which my Bubby and Zeidi would have abhored to no end, and I'm rooting for Germany in a Queens beer hall.

Independence Day has an enormous resonance in New York. Though die-hard Red State Republicans would rant and rave of the unpatriotic nature of all those Pinko Queers back east, the Revolution happened here. It didn't happen in the Midwest. Five days after it was signed, the Declaration of Independence was read in New York's City Commons, now City Hall Park. New York was the first Capitol of the U.S. And it was right here, that Hamilton and Jefferson (the original partisans) worked out the compromise that all the newly freed colonies would support the U.S. War Debt together, as one United States of America. This was a clear blow to Jefferson's confederated ideal, so Hamilton had to make a dire sacrifice as well: conceding the Capitol of the new nation move from the rapidly expanding New York, the heart of the nation's commerce and industry. . . to a sleepy little farming town in Maryland. Now: Washington D.C.

Hamilton never became President. John Adams made sure of that with a little "must be born in the U.S." provision written into the constitution. Hamilton was born in the Carribean. The small island of St. Croix. Of course one of the pivotal figures in the history of New York, and in the framing of the nation would be an immigrant.

I still wonder about the deeper motives and back-room handshakes that resulted in the murder of te former Treasurer. shot dead in a "gentlemen's duel" out in New Jersey, with Vice President Burr himself no less. Hamilton, with his shrewd businessman's eye, forever looking foward into the future, was no favorite among the Founding Fathers. But he deserved better than a bullet to the chest for his beliefs.

He's not remembered and revered the way Washington, Jefferson and Franklin are. The ten dollar bill, of course, was no light concession, but if it weren't for the Federalist vision of Alexander Hamilton, we'd never be one whole nation with opinions and upbringings as far and as wide as the nations from which our multitudes stem.

Which was, of course, necessary at the time: We owed a ton of money to France for helping us beat the British! The only way they'd grant us the credit was if we accepted it as One Nation Under. . . well, the whole Church and State thing is another topic all together.

But with the Red vs Blue mindset that has our whole big, ugly governement, with it's thousand screaming heads collectively crammed into one enormous anus that is our political system of special interests, endless election and campaigning cycles, partisan deadlock, and a democratic process officially broken by election tampering, et cetera, et cetera ad infintum, does The United States of America really even make sense anymore?

For a Wyoming cattle-rancher or a Iowa corn farmer, you bet it does! Who'd pay for their national defense?

During the Civil War, New York City considered secceding from the U.S. As the commercial and industrial powerhouse of the New World, New York could stand on it's own two feet quite more comfortably than any other municipality in the country. A modern day Constantinople, like Hong Kong, but magnified ten-fold.

Without delving into the leftist's endless disgust with the current administration, wouldn't it be. . . almost utopian if we could leave the liguistically retarded Texas cowboy, with *his* war and just declare a new, much more exact form of Independence here in the Five Boroughs?

I decided to take the Big Question to an Independence Day rooftop concert in Hipster Brooklyn and see if any intriguing answers bounce back. The Big Question is. . . .

Are you proud to be an American? . . . (continued)