A little surprised by all the sentimentality sinking in early this week of the inauguration. The kind where you say things to your hellhound like, Thank you, America. Thank you for Prince Original Graphites strung at 65 lbs, the Ford Bronco you started driving at 16 with a sick Alpine stereo and enough space for a 6-pack stashed in the cooler built into the arm rest in between the driver and passenger seats and the two beanbag chairs in the back, and, of course, thank you, America, for defeating Adolf Hitler, landing a man on the moon, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and motocross. You were good before you became great again and legit while you lasted.