There is no holiday on the American calendar more demonstrative of our national values than April Fools’ Day. You could make a compelling argument that Christmas and its exaltation of blind consumerism or Mardi Gras’ celebration of getting drunk and naked in public are some of our most important cultural ideals. However, when it comes to the qualities and traditions that define the American way, there are none more distinct or quintessential than that of needlessly being an unapologetic d*ck to your friends and neighbors for the sake of a cheap laugh.

Your chinchilla died of smoke inhalation after the burning curtains fell over its cage, and the curtains only caught fire after you kicked the cherry bombs into them while trying to stomp out the fire they set on the carpet. So really, you killed your chinchilla.”

It is our shameless defense of literally anything that might give one a light chuckle that sets our lovely, sadistic nation apart from all the other bland, joyless, “caring” countries with whom we share this twirling mortal orb.

Celebrating April Fools’ Day is the purest display of patriotism that there is. It’s the most sincere sign of respect you can show to all of the courageous individuals who fought and died in countless wars, who marched for equal rights and who put their hard-earned reputations on the line for your freedom to do as you please without giving a single sh*t about how it affects others — so that you could freely swaddle a toilet in saran wrap so that all excrement deposited into it rebounds back onto its depositor and not go to prison.

That’s what being an American is all about, and I refuse to apologize for loving my country just because the prank I played this year caused you to scrape your knee.

Seriously. You need to lighten up and quit all this moping. That was hysterical. You should have seen your face when you walked in the door — I mean, God, I should have gotten a picture; it was priceless! Your eyes just totally bugged out. I thought you were going to have a stroke.

Yes, yes, I know; I know that you were with Jeremy, and Jeremy has a tendency to get a little faint when he can’t catch his breath, and I realize a ton of smoke in a poorly-ventilated bedroom isn’t ideal for him, … but he just passed out the one time and then he was fine, so why don’t you quit looking at me like I’m some kind of a murderer?

Jeremy, you’re fine right?

Don’t listen to Jeremy. He’s lying. He can definitely still feel his toes, and he’s fine.

Shut up Jeremy, you’re fine!

Now, come on. Show me that smile. I know it’s in there. I know you can do it. Seriously — the way you’re looking at me, you’d think I just killed your puppy or something.

Okay, a chinchilla is not the same thing as a puppy. A puppy has energy and a personality; a chinchilla is just the deformed mutant child of a squirrel and a mouse that got a little too drunk and a little too hot and steamy at a party one night. Hamsters should not be the size of rabbits — that is a crime against humanity.

Also, it’s not like I killed your chinchilla. Your chinchilla died of smoke inhalation after the burning curtains fell over its cage, and the curtains only caught fire after you kicked the cherry bombs into them while trying to stomp out the fire they set on the carpet. So really, you killed your chinchilla.

Which isn’t to say that I’m blaming you. I’m sure Jesus will forgive your transgressions. I’m just saying that you can’t pin the death of your chinchilla on me. I know that it’s tragic, but, I mean, that scream you let out when you first walked in the door was classic. I’m serious, you sounded like Minnie Mouse high on helium!

I mean, do you have 7-year-old girl stuck in your throat? That scream could have shattered glass! And when you turned around and ran into the wall on your way out the door — ha! Priceless! Noël Coward couldn’t have written better farce! Just you all like, “Aaah! The house is burning down!” then turn around and “Ka-thunk!” It was  — whoo! I’m crying. 

So come on. Give me a smile. I know you can do it. You can smile. Show me that smile!

God damn, you are a tough crowd.

Editor’s Note: This is a satire for April Fools’ Day. Real names and the events surrounding them may be used in fictitious/semi-fictitious ways. Those who do not read the editor’s notes are subject to being offended.

The Unprecedented Times reporter Earl Pouty Jowells III can be reached at entertainment@collegian.com or on Twitter @scottysseus.