Banned in the USA?

I hope you all had a wonderful 4th of July. As I’m sure many of you surmised, I took the holiday off from 3WW. It will return next week.

These are the dog days of summer. No, they really are, literally. At least for those of us in the northern hemisphere, here on planet Earth.

I did enjoy the day off of work on Wednesday. Three day weekends are nice, but I think I could really get used to a four-day work week with every Wednesday off. Think about it. You’d work two days, be off one, work two days, be off two. It breaks up the monotony quite nicely. Monday would feel like Thursday. It’s almost like not working at all. Let’s see about getting that instituted.

This morning, I took my car to a trusted mechanic just to have it checked out. I have a few road trips upcoming, including the beach in eight days and Bama football games this fall. He said everything looked fine. So it wound up being $40. Forty dollars for peace of mind. If only I could bottle that up.

I spent much of Tuesday night and Wednesday at my sister’s. She had two cookouts. The festivities included seeing my Dad get into a swimming pool for the first time in probably twenty years or more. That was both kinda cool and a bit odd.

Meanwhile, with no regard for my virgin skin, the summer sun turned my milky white back to bright shades of pinkish red. This happened after I decided to experiment with some SPF 4 sunscreen, as opposed to my usual SPF 15. I guess those numbers really do mean something after all.

As we were eating Wednesday, a phone started ringing. It sounded like a landline rather than a cell ringtone to me. It rang about five times, yet no one moved. Finally I looked around the table and asked suspiciously, “Am I the only one who hears that?”

Turns out it was my sister’s husband’s cell phone. He was outside at the time. It just had a bit of a deceptive ring, and apparently everyone knew it but me.

I didn’t go to any fireworks shows this year, nor did I shoot any. There was a ban on certain fireworks around here due to the lack of rain. Not wanting to risk committing another felony, I decided to spend my money on Sun Drops and barbecue fried pork skins.

But really, a ban on fireworks? Isn’t this America, land of the free, home of the M-80’s? Next thing you know, they’ll be trying to stop high-ranking government officials from doling out pardons left and right to friends who have been convicted of committing high crimes.

Please. Not in my country.

Ever since the very first Fourth of July celebration in 1777, Americans have been shooting fireworks. Although I’m not sure exactly what fireworks they had back then. Probably just some snap and pops. Oh, and I’m sure they had Ben Franklin come and do his little kite trick. But that probably got old after thirty or forty times.

Fireworks should never be banned in America. Every child should get to experience the thrill of holding a bottle rocket as it launches, or having a firecracker go off in their hand. The burning. The pain. The numbness. The ringing in your ear. The temporary uncertainty of what just happened.

I’m sorry, but you just can’t simulate those feelings with some Tony Danza-hosted fireworks spectacular on television. Well, except for maybe the numbness. But I think that had more to do with Tony Danza than anything else.

“Oh let’s go, let’s strike a light. We’re gonna blow like dynamite. I don’t care if it takes all night, gonna set this town alight…”