“American” and “America” are desperately egocentric words that encompass a much broader audience than the user intended. But those are the most appropriate terms for the most patriotic citizens of the U.S.of America. The myopia and arrogance and insecurity it takes to scream “America” while flying a flag of a very small part of the multiple land masses with geographic imperatives attached to the word “America,” is exceedingly possessive of a word and also revealing of a people who are willfully–rightfully–ignorant of facts that do not matter to their sphere of knowledge. In other words, enjoy blowing shit up, Americans!
It’s the 4th of July, meaning it’s time to celebrate the success of the French’s proxy war against England for which the colonies were granted their independence, by indulging in pyromaniac tendencies! It also means that it’s one of two times per year that fireworks are a viable industry, aka, one of two times per year Michael Bay has a spontaneous, unassisted orgasm. And it perplexes me.
Fireworks are starter terrorism. Yeah, you read that right, sparkler enthusiasts, fireworks are like car bombs for eight-year-old Irish nationalists, or bottle rockets are like mortar blasts for junior jihadists. Those drunk 20-somethings on your block or the pot-bellied dad who is desperately trying to connect with his son are terrorizing your dog and your sleep.
Fireworks are the cancer of sleep. For the week leading up to and following a holiday poxed by fireworks, the drunken revelry of men will require boom-boom and explosions will then plague your brain during inappropriate times. Just like a tumor. An aggressive tumor if you’re a skittish dogs (and if you are a skittish dog, how are you reading this? Are you a Scooby-esque dog who understands people words and who is also literate!?!). How many times can you light off a Black Cat before it loses its luster and you go back to sadly drinking Keystone Lights alone on your couch watching a random baseball game in the middle of a punishing 162 game regular season? The internet exists, how is a series of popping sounds still capturing your attention? Is your penis so raw from stumbling upon yet another new fetish that annoying your neighbors with is a suitable substitute?
Every year around this time, multiple reports come out of drunk people either losing a couple of fingers or more vital pieces of themselves. This is exclusive to the penised among us. This is even more baffling when literally every single fireworks stand is named “Crazy Bill’s.” Why are you buying fire-go-pop sticks from a self-identified mental patient if you don’t expect to lose a couple of digits? The only way I can tolerate firework bursts on days that aren’t the 4th of July is if those bursts are followed by the painful wailing of a guy who’s going to have to learn a new way to tie his shoelaces.
That said, massive fireworks displays synced to an Irving Berlin song are pretty cool. It takes two intolerable tonal abominations and distracts you with temporary twinkling lights. Happy 4th of July, United Statesians, no matter how many fingers you have!