Things That Go Pop In The Night

I love the 4th of July for many reasons. It's the day after my birthday. I never have to get up to go to work the next day (that is...unless the 4th falls on a Sunday). It's a time where you spend time with family and friends. And its a time where everyone seems to have a good time.

It's the last reason that I am considering eliminating from my list of all the reasons why I love the holday.

I love fireworks. I love how they've really become pretty sophisticated over the years, when drawing your name in the sky with a sparkler, or lighting a charcoal "worm" or smoke bomb was a pretty cool deal. Now...they're pretty much lame. Not having bought fireworks lately, I don't even know if they make the latter, but rather these complicated fountain things, with complicated names that didn't really translate well to English when they were shipped over from China. I mean, what the hell does White Lotus In Black Hawk Transistor Happiness really mean anyhow....?

Anyhow, it seems anymore that there needs to be more lift, more bang, more pizzazz, more fire, etc., anymore for any teenager or adult to even remotely be interested in them. I would tend to agree as well. And, in addition, it seems that teenagers and adults feel the need to start immediately after Memorial Day, and have the festivities last later and later in the evening, reaching its apex about the first of July, where it seems bangs last until 3 am.

People in my neighborhood seem to have been following this practice as of late, and it's really getting out of hand. I like fireworks like any other person, but at 3 am, I don't find them very festive, especially if I've not imbibed in some sort of alcoholic libation, and have to get up early the next morning. Shutting the windows doesn't help. You still hear them, especially with the screechy ones.

I'm open to suggestions as to how to deal with this, and probably will migrate to some "Jackass" type of practical joke on the people, which may result in filing an insurance claim or lawsuit against me. So I sit, counting to 2342, keeping my emotions in check.

Or perhaps I should get that brick of Black Cat firecrackers, find the bastards' home, and light them off on their front porch...at 6 a.m., a time where I happen to be rarin' to go...