Szcz??liwy Dzie? Niezale?no?ci!
That’s how you say “Happy Independence Day” in Polish. At least, that’s how we think you say it. Nobody in New York seems to know, or care, that tonight marks the 87th anniversary of Jozef Pilsudski‘s ascension from incarcerated Brigadier General to free-standing Commander in Chief of the once and future Poland.
Between our combined bloodlines and strategic political allegiances, Misha and I consider ourselves to be at least 30% Polish, out of a possible 200%. As a result, Misha’s been on the phone with every halfway Slavic public house from Green Point to White Plains, and I’ve been scouring the internets with a ziemniak comb, all in a futile attempt to find someone outside of this band to celebrate the holiday with.
We have so far found Lisa Toff.
This is a sad state of affairs. Don’t get me wrong – we love Lisa to death and treasure every golden moment spent basking in her love light, but she does not a Mazovian diaspora make. The official explanation we’ve been getting is that the holiday went underground during the Cold War, so nobody really knows how to celebrate it. We as a band are calling bullshit on this. IT’S INDEPENDENCE DAY. YOU’RE EASTERN EUROPEANS. At the risk of perpetuating unfair ethnic stereotypes, FUCKING HAVE SOMETHING TO DRINK, AND MAYBE ENGAGE IN SOME LIGHT, GOOD-NATURED PROPERTY DAMAGE. I mean, it’s November, guys. It’s cold. You kicked out the Germans. Let’s have us a pilsner and talk ‘stache maintenance, what do you say? Maybe light a trash can on fire? I don’t think that’s too much to ask.