Tradition and family loyalty requires folks to at least make an effort to rejoice, but the look in their eyes says, 'Oh, great-great-great-great-great-great-grea
And who could blame them? After all, are we really supposed to believe these poor devils are happy their ancestors gave up the chance to be British?
Still, we Brits are nothing if not polite, so here in New Jersey I'll play along with this annual charade. I'll go fish out the teabags from my swimming pool and wish everyone I meet a 'Happy Fourth of July.' I'll pretend their tears are for love of country not loss of Britishness, all the while knowing that, like the Scotsman who pretends he's not secretly flattered when someone calls him 'English,' or the 50-yr-old lounge lizard in open shirt and medallion, adjusting his wig at the bar, the poor deluded souls fool no one.
Happy Fourth of July!