Oh America, er, Elvis, there is so much to love and not love about you. Your skyrocket to fame gave everyone a rebellious, swivel-hipped idol to imitate, albeit a mighty white one. Your voice, a fine mix of baritone-tenor, never failed, though sometimes the barbituates made it slurry and those beach movies cheapened it a shade or two. Your extravagances are legendary and completely unsustainable. Your appetites made you a bit revolting, though we appreciate how you bedazzled it. Your fascination with Nixon will go down as one of the great mysteries of illogical reasoning. Your retinue always seemed dickish and your spirituality charlatan, but oh, how you command an audience. You are The King, America, er, Elvis, but let’s face it, Monarchy is so 18th century. This week, Members, certainly celebrate. But don’t mistake your icons for myths, your myths for nations, your nations for leviathans, your leviathans for motherships. And try not to end up on the bathroom floor.