America has three beer holidays -- those sloshy days of the year when a pretext for celebration is immediately pushed aside by the consumption of the demon brew. Sure, the Fourth of July is the drinkiest day of the year, but it's still ostensibly about celebrating our independence, or at least our fireworks. In fact, let's assume all the barbecue holidays are just incidental alcoholism. What does that leave you? St. Patrick's Day, Thanksgiving Eve, and the surprisingly thirsty Father's Day.
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And no one has ever purchased chintzy Father's Day sunglasses.
All of which means that beer makers had to search pretty hard to fill that three-spot with an excuse to drink 60.75 million gallons of yeast-water. They were smart, though, realizing two things: Americans love chips, and eating spicy food is thirsty work.
Brewers took advantage of it. And guess what? It turns out to be the best drinking holiday of the year. It comes with a put option, meaning there's no guilt in not celebrating. It's not one of the barbecue holidays. It's flexible.
St. Patrick's Day is the day no bartender has time to pour a Guinness properly and all the people you couldn't stand in college throw up on your shoes. But 5/5? Man, all you do is get a bucket of Pacifico and kick back with some chips and pico de gallo. (Side note: You are invited to my Cinco de Mayo party, but warn your taste buds that they're eating out of their league! My salsa slays gods.)
So please, this year, won't you think of the poor brewers? Their product has to compete with soda pop for America's deparchification, and unlike soft drinks, it has very little sugar, and is therefore not habit-forming.
Congress doesn't have a lot of good ideas, and when it does, they're usually voted down by the Senate Subcommittee on Crushing America's Hopes. But even a broken clock gets hungry for guacamole two times a day. When the legislative branch is tired after a long, hard day of stealing from the next generation, it needs a crisp beer to wash away the taste of the financial sector's genitals.
That's why in 2005, Congress issued Concurrent Resolution 44, commonly known as the "Find Your Beach Resolution," which calls on the president to recognize it's 5 o'clock somewhere. And you should probably read it, because at the end it gets pretty damn inspiring.
Then, just as suddenly, adorable.
The power of May 5 is such that for once, the House of Representatives was able to accomplish something. It passed an official mandate of partying down, so if you see anybody who refuses to grab a taco and a tequila, report them to the House of Uncool Activities, Party Foul Committee.
But don't just party to get drunk or enjoy my salsa, which is the best you'll ever get unless you seduce a Mexican grandmother. Do it, as H. Con. Res. 44 says, to "recognize our Mexican-American community and the close spiritual and economic ties the United States has with the people of Mexico."
You don't have to be Mexican to love Mexico, and you don't have to be American to overindulge in "the rich culture, heritage, and tradition that Mexican-Americans have brought to the United States."
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That passage strongly implies it's our patriotic duty to fantasize about Salma Hayek.
All you have to do is throw an arm around your neighbor and toast the food, music, and wonderful people we're lucky enough to enjoy.
And if that doesn't work, we'll invade France.