I don’t care what the progressives say:  I happen to like your tan, I find your  laugh lines make you look quite distinguished and handsome — in an almost Eastwoodian way — and your eloquence hasn’t faded with time.

Honestly, you don’t look a day over 220.

Now go. Have a blast!  Eat a couple three brats and some deviled egg potato salad, maybe down a few cold brews as you watch the fireworks.

Sam Adams lager seems appropriate, though truthfully, you can’t go wrong with Pabst, either.

My family and I will raise a glass to you.  And after all the parades we’ll be riding in — and before the carnival and exploding lights show that cap off the evening — I plan on breaking out a copy and reading you to my wife and kids.

Don’t mention it. You’ve earned it.  And really, there’s no reason to be humble.  Let the haters hate. What you’ve done for the world — and for the liberty of the individual — is nothing short of transformative.  Some of us haven’t forgotten.

This is your day.  Live it up!