Photo source: wikipedia.
Yes indeed. Since that renegade band of badass pilgrims ‘effed off in the Mayflower in the seventeenth century (1620, nerdly precision fans!), there’s been considerable strife with our friends across the pond.
Brave Boston-ians dressed as native Americans and poured several shitloads of tea into the ocean. Britain sent a lot of angry German mercenaries along with their famous redcoats to the continent, for a tasty chunk of good ol’ fashioned war. Everyone was a bit of a dick, in short, and everybody was righteously pissed at everybody else.
But no more. What’s a little warfare between friends?
Today, we celebrate the almost-hundredth-anniversary (ninety-third, if we’re being pernickety) of the completion of the Fountain of Time. This vast concrete sculpture in Washington Park, Chicago, was built to commemorate a century of peace, goodwill and casual ball-groping between Britain and the U.S. Can you feel the love? Yes, yes you can.
Time is almost 40 meters long, and depicts one hundred figures passing before Father Time. The old bastard that looks like the Grim Reaper and his buddies are presented in the classical style (to wit: nobody’s got their damn pants on and their wangs are tiny and shriveled, like that of Michelangelo’s David). It’s quite a sight. Most importantly, though, the waters began to run on this day in 1920. That’s worth toasting, surely?
So how to salute this day? As Egotastic’s resident Englishman, I’d personally recommend adding U where U doesn’t belong, bitching about the constant rain (most of) you lucky souls don’t experience, or paying an elderly woman and her usually-drunk family far too much to wave out of the window of extortionately-priced cars at public events. No offense to those wacky Windsors, we totally love them really.
No, ‘Fountain of Time Day’ isn’t a thing. Not even slightly.