As Americans, freedom is as important Krispy Kreme doughnuts. It is the thread of our national fabric. A concept worth fighting for, killing for, conquering other people and obliterating their freedoms for, setting up puppet regimes for… Freedom is a political platform. A buzzword to spice up the soup of rhetoric, the Byriani of debate. We elect presidents because they promise us more freedom… like the freedom to watch Bridalplasty and have drive thru gun shops.

The ironic thing about this is that we begin our lives with virtually no free will. As a baby, we are complete subordinates to the whims of parents.

“Oh you want to dress me up like a Zebra. Fine. What can I do about it? You think its funny to put dumb hats on me. That’s cool. You want to stuff me in this S&M contraption, buckle me into a moving vehicle, only to end up at the grocery store. Great. My favorite place. Woopdie freakin’ doo.”

My baby has no control over her day, what she wears, when she eats, how long she has to sit around with shit in her pants. She is at my mercy. Her only protests are a cry, or grunt, and sometimes I don’t even understand what it is what she wants. I have been known to try to stuff a boob in her mouth when poo is seeping down her leg.

“What are you dumb Mom? Wrong end bitch!”

Maybe it is this dormant memory that makes freedom such an issue for our country. Maybe that is why the concept of a monarchy is so threatening to our collective tissue. Maybe the first settlers of America had really shitty parents?