My Confederate Flag

After living in the South for three years, I broke down and bought myself a confederate flag. The first problem was summoning the willpower to admit I wanted one. The second was trying to find a place that sold them. Turns out it wasn't hard. I went to an army surplus store and picked up a decent sized flag and a couple stickers and an army jacket and some white gloves for less than $30. Then I bought some bourbon and a cigar. Then I went home to wait for Halloween.




As any idiot can see, I was dressed as General Sherman -- the rugged fucking badass that burned this motha down once upon a time. In my flask I held the Sweet Tears of the Confederacy. I named my cigar "Atlanta".



But now it's almost a year later and I got this confederate flag lying around my house and I have no idea what to do with it. I live in the middle of a small black neighborhood, and the last thing I want to do is throw it away and have a raccoon go through my garbage and dig it up. I don't want to burn it, certainly. People with iPhones are everywhere these days and I know I'll end up on youtube. And I really, really don't want to bring the flag with me to Chicago, because while I think people here would be tolerant of my satirical behavior (or racist enough to not care), people there will not.



I think I'm going to buy a bunch of helium balloons and attach them to my confederate flag and let it go under the cover of darkness. They say the South May Rise Again, but nothing ever rises without a little help. The flag will fall back to Earth somewhere after I'm gone, picked up by someone, and I don't know if I care what happens after that.