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Fuck the Founding Fathers.

I, for one, am sick of douchebags using "..it's what the founding fathers would have wanted." as an argument. Here's a tip, think up a valid, supportable point that you didn't just pull out of your ass, and use that instead.

Here are a few excellent reasons why you cannot claim that the Founding Fathers would support your opinion.
1) They are dead.

In recent news, the Democrats have discovered that the Founding Fathers would have voted Democrat. The Republicans, however, revealed that according to their studies the Founding Fathers are most certainly Republican. Astonishingly, 99.9% of Americans actually give a rats ass, and say that the falsified opinions of several-hundred-year-dead white men influences them greatly.

Why We Eloped: A Comprehensive Inventory

So I, in particular, have been catching a lot of flak for getting married. And so the result is an informative essay filled with fun facts for anyone who thinks they should be offended that we got married in the manner we desired.

Why We Eloped: A Comprehensive Inventory

(with footnotes on Why I Kept My Last Name)

1. We hate weddings. We love receptions. Hence we are having a reception, but not a wedding. Come get tanked. Bring gifts.

2. You know that stereotype of women doggedly proliferated by the media that “ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of my big beautiful wedding”? When I was a little girl I would dream of being Batman. Spending gobs of cash so I could pretend to be a virginal princess for 45 minutes never got very high on my to do list.

   1. I still dream of being Batman.

3. I wasn’t going to say anything, but since several of you more ostentatious brides decided I was a “total bitch” for not spending $49,238,546 on something I didn’t really care to have, and not inviting you and yours to sit there for an hour with your legs falling asleep, hoping there’s an open bar at the reception… So here’s my beef, the Modern Wedding is a culturally acceptable excuse for a woman to spoil herself silly. It is Vanity Incarnate, you know it, I know it. That’s why they call it “your day”. Not your mother’s day, not your husband’s day. Yours. Since the day was Mine, I figured I could have whatever kind of wedding I wanted, specifically none. The fact that the most pretentious former (and future) brides among you were actually offended at my lack of egocentric public preening scares the hell out of me. Pretty sure just one of us deviating slightly from the norm is not going to bring the whole Day of Selfishness institution crashing around our heads.

   1. But Erica, aren’t you declaring the whole wedding tradition to be a hollow, self-serving practice when only a small percentage of brides are shallow douchebags? Yes. Yes I am. Most of you ladies are wonderful, intelligent, deep people who deserve to be venerated. But not because you’re getting married. Dress like a princess and throw a party because you solved Fermat’s theorem or just squeezed out that twelfth kid. Those are actual accomplishments. Those are reasons people should stand for you when you enter the room. Not because you’re signing legal papers claiming exclusive mating rights. Certainly a party is in order, but does it really warrant a Diana-esque affair with a thousand white doves and Elton John? Just sayin.

   2. There are, according to my count, about thirty separate magazines devoted to Brides. One day, hopefully under one hour, in your entire life. Twelve times a year, for 200 pages, every year. Find them next to the hunting and weight lifting magazines. Is anyone else disturbed by this? Weddings should not be a hobby one can subscribe to.

4. We are poor. There is no way in hell we’re taking out a loan for something that you can’t drive, live in, or play Oblivion on.

   1. Wedding dresses, with the exception of designer curtains, are possibly the most overpriced pieces of fabric known to man. And this is for something that requires two other people to help you go to the bathroom.

**We wanted to change our last name to Mega Ultron Prime: Destroyer of Cities, but that got shot down at the courthouse. We are instead Kenneth John Blake and Erica Ann Belkholm. Go ahead, tell Kenny he’s pussywhipped. Then tell all the women who have taken their husband’s last name that they’re cockwhipped. I bet they’d love that.

Anyone who would like to tell me I am somehow defying the Will of God, please form a line behind my mother. Anyone who would like to tell me to get in my place as they grab my ass, please form a line behind all the redneck bar patrons from my place of employment. Anyone who would like to discuss modern feminist theory, call me.