The Death of General Lackey.

John Lackey hates America. That is the only plausible explanation that I can come up with for that performance. My father, who was very much a product of the 1950s, was awfully fond of accusing people of being un-American, if they didn't agree with him or did something stupid; it was his go-to insult, which I found hilarious. But today, for probably the first time ever, I say to John Lackey (in my father's voice): What are you? Un-American?

I really thought that simplistic, yay-rah-rah, America=Awesome patriotism would work for John Lackey. And now I'm just sad that they lost to the British (and undoubtedly, I would never have thought of it that way because who thinks of Canadians as British?) on the Fourth of July. It's tragic really.

But, like at Bunker Hill (I'm sure I'll get off the Revolutionary War kick eventually), the Bostonians ran out of ammunition and couldn't hold off the British charge. And like General Warren, the British left Lackey beaten and mutilated and tossed in a mass grave. Perhaps they can refortify themselves and expel the British tomorrow because that would be nifty.