Your day trip to an oft-visited site of significant historical significance has been great, and you feel you must pay back the gift of awe and inspiration you’ve received during your stay, so you decide to drop a god damn granola bar wrapper right in the middle of the fucker.
The better part of this wonderful Saturday has been spent drinking in the wealth of information provided to you by the National Park Service on this beautiful location where several events critical to the founding and preservation of your country took place. The staff has worked tirelessly to keep the place as close to its historical self as possible for you and generations to come, so you figure you’d better shit on all that by chucking your garbage on the ground fifteen feet from a motherfucking trash can. It’s just the right thing to do.
What higher tribute is there to the heroes of an age long gone by, who shed their blood on the fields and forts of this battleground of fate, striving for an ideal of freedom that all thought unattainable in their time, making the ultimate sacrifice for people they would never meet, people such as you, than to stuff your fucking face with a chewy chocolate chip granola bar and casually toss your sugar-filled, ant-magnet refuse on this damn near hallowed ground?
It feels good to be a patriot.