Category: Time Wasters
*Legal Note: Everything in this post is a lie. I’ve made it up in the spirit of the 4th and under no circumstances have I ever been, or currently am, in possession of any illegal fireworks. Nor have I ever illegally discharged or transported fireworks in the states of South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland or Pennsylvania. *
I like fireworks. I really do. One of my fondest childhood memories is that of running through the woods at night playing “war” with BB guns and bottle rockets. I wasn’t as over the top as these guys below, but… well… dangerous or not, shooting fireworks at people is fun. Yes, I know. Bad. I’m not sure how I’ve lived as long as I have… but. Fun. Try it.
If you get bored… skip ahead to about the 4.20 mark. Hope you like KISS.
It’s getting to be that time of year where blowing things up is marginally permissible. In the state in which I live, Virginia (not paranoia), fireworks are legal as long as they don’t leave the ground or explode. That pretty much eliminates all the fireworks worth having. You’re stuck with fountains, sparklers, smoke bombs, and snakes. Each of those has its own “fun” factor to it, but when you light a firework most people really want to see something fly around and then explode and lighting a fountain and throwing it doesn’t make up for the lack of selfpropelled goodness of a mortar shell or bottle rocket. When I was younger, I would load up on fireworks during family trips to Myrtle Beach, SC. I had a limited budget so I was stuck purchasing mainly firecrackers, jumping jacks and bottle rockets. Not that those aren’t fun. They were just small scale.
As an adult with a job, I was able to increase my firepower.
Fortunately for me, a mere 2.5 hour drive away is the state of Pennsylvania, where one can buy all the fun fireworks one can imagine. (As long as you’re not a citizen of Pennsylvania. Due to weird legal loophole you can sell fireworks in PA only to people who don’t live there.) Phantom Fireworks has a store about the size of most grocery stores packed to the gills with boom sticks and whistley flying bits. Not to mention my favorites, the 500 gram mortars. (500 grams is the largest amount of explosive material in a single device that you can sell to someone in the US without the ATF getting involved. Of course, tape and extension fuses can make #500 turn into #1000-#1500 pretty easily. Feel free to ask anyone who witnessed the white phosphorous shell I made that exploded at 30 feet off the ground instead of 300 at last years 4th of July party. Everyone on the deck suffered temporary blindness. Relax, I said temporary.)
So this year’s going to be a bit more low-key for the 4th. No mega large booms in the yard. I’ve got a few special mortar shells and boom sticks that I’ve saved from previous extravaganzas for certain special occassions (like tossing at punters on I-66). Come to think of it… what a fun evening commute that would be.
So… I forgot the point of all of this.
Oh yeah. Fireworks are fun and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I encourage everyone to go out and either blow something up yourselves or watch a pro do it. (I bet my blog just made the Terrorist Watch List again.) Try to stay away from the Washington DC mall area if you go see them though. It’s hot, it’s gross, and it’s gross. It’s also crowded and that’s no fun. Better to set off some sparklers and watch cousin Bubba blow off his toe than to sit on the Metro with 4 million sweaty grossniks. Seriously it is. If you live in a state that allows cool fireworks, all the more reason to do it yourself. Let your kids play too. Don’t be that adult who won’t let kids play because they’re too busy entertaining their own inner child. Let the kid light the fuse. They’ll run away before it blows up… nothing to worry about. And if they don’t run… the burning phosphorous wake up call will be good for them. What’s the worst that could happen?
Also, I’m legally banned from having custody of children under the age of 47 in most of the eastern United States.
Jerks.
OK, so last week I said I was going to give out a prize to a reader. That seemed like a good idea at the time, but I have no idea who the vast majority of people are who read this ( I pretend). So I decided instead of just picking someone who I know or reads the site 12 times a day, I’d have a contest. Here’s the contest… First person to correctly solve the riddle below and post the answer as a comment wins. You can post comments, guesses, etc in the comment area as well. If you want, you can even team up. Multiple prizes are not out of the question since I’m making up the rules. OK, here’s the riddle… also cheating will get you no where… ok… here it is:
In the Summer, I am of the Darkest Bloom,
In the Autumn, I smell of sweet Perfume.
In the Spring, I gather around the Room.
In the Winter, I spell impending Doom.Man’s Reach can’t catch me as Time passes By.
It takes more Than the wind to make me Fly.Can you solve this riddle?
I’m one of the most easily bored people I’ve ever met. I have the attention span of a walnut and my interest level in any said activity wanes faster than an addict’s bankroll on buy one get one free crack ball day. Does crack come in balls? I don’t know. I actually have no first hand knowledge of crack. That’d be an easy explanation as to why my brain runs off the rails so often, but I just think my rails are different from everyone else’s. Or perhaps they’re the same and I’ve just switched down a different track from the pack. I suddenly want to go buy a model train set. Woo-woo-buckaroo! A cowboy themed train set apparently. This opening paragraph is a great example of my lack of mental cohesion.
Anyway, listen. So I was watching one of the greatest cinematic epic tales ever to be recorded in the annals (2 n’s ok, 1 n-gross) of history. Of course I mean Kindergarten Cop. Arnold’s finest work opposite some rug monsters that yielded such wonderful gems as “It’s not a tumor”, “How are you?”, “Yeah”, “Stop it!”, and “Who is your daddy and what does he do?”. Through tears of giggliness, I noticed in one of the classroom scenes (I believe it was the one during the firedrill when the kid is happily dancing on the table yelling “I’m on fire! I’m on fire!”) that there was one of those old turny-crank handle versions of a pencil sharpener nailed to the wall by the door. Boy did that bring back memories of wasting time as a very small Monty.
