I reread the Declaration today and shortened it for modern readers.
Things were fine, now you’ve forced our hand. It’s over. We decide things now, not you. You’re a son of a bitch for about a thousand reasons (see list) and if we stopped to think about it there’d be more. You won’t change. We’re out—all the way out. We’re clearing the table and if you try and stop us we’ll kill all of you before we go. If you were our friend before we’ll kill you twice as hard. We are your worst nightmare. It’s our game now. Now you’ve been warned. Your move.
Let freedom ring.
Seriously, it might be the coldest document in American history.