"On Independence Day we remember. We remember a great war. A war fought by a rag-tag band of scrappy insurgents, fighting against the occupying army of the most powerful Empire in the world. An Empire so arrogant and selfish, it thought it could lay claim to every corner of the earth, and snatch all the world’s resources for itself. An Empire so in love with itself, it thought is was God’s favourite, and believed itself duty-bound to jam its style of government and way of life down the throats of anyone who disagreed with it. Many said that the scrappy insurgents could never win, that the Empire would crush them like puny ants. But the rebels fought on, and their numbers grew, as citizen-soldiers dropped pitchforks and took up crude weapons to fight for their liberty and independence. These brave and determined fighters dispensed with the rules of warfare. They hid in the shadows, launching devastating attacks on the soft underbelly of their fearsome enemy. The Empire called them cowards and terrorists. But in the end, the Empire lost. Lost because of their undeserved entitlement. Lost because of their greed and laziness. Lost because their so-called divine leader – a dude named King George – was a stubborn warmonger who couldn’t accept that his ass had been whooped. Which wasn’t a big surprise really, since dumb old George only got to be in charge on account of he was related to some older, smarter guy with the same name."