Just as the first casualty of war is truth, so the first casualty of revolution is irony.
And this is true of the 1776 revolution as any other revolution.
And I see the effects of this revolution every day in the backpackers who are the sons and daughters of the 1776 revolution.
For they are as friendly and bright faced as Pollyanna herself, but completely deaf to irony.
In my idealistic way I have tried to explain irony to them but they never get it, and just look at me blank faced, and eventually resent being told they don't get our humour, so I cease and desist.
But of course they never forgive me, just as they never forgive me for not having perfect teeth.