Infinite MonkeysSafe and sane fireworks are legal in my city. For whatever that's worth. But this holiday is not really about safety, is it? The men who pledged their "lives, fortunes, and sacred honor" did not choose the safe path. They had larger things to worry about than losing a thumb to an errant firecracker.
So, perhaps fittingly, most of my neighbors have selected the less sane, less safe route. Anything that leaves the ground, I'm told, is illegal. And yet the neighborhood looks like a warzone this day. As it does every Fourth of July. The anarchy here is what attracts me to this place. I don't know -- I sincerely doubt -- whether most of my neighbors care much about the underlying principles of this day. But they fully embrace the spirit.
Most people here gladly risk fines and Lord knows what else -- embarrassment? -- in search of the bigger bang. Law enforcement gets more clever by the year.
But not clever enough. The bombs are bursting at 7:00 in the evening. Love it... I love it. Yes, the scolds say that even the safe fireworks are dangerous. Sparklers burn at 1000 degrees. Screamers explode. But if the price of freedom is an imbeclic child losing a finger or an eye... well, then I say it's a bargain at twice the price.
Unless it's my child. Then somebody is getting sued.
The cops started circling the blocks before dusk. I suppose they were hoping to find that one dumb bastard unlucky enough to light the fuse just as the black-and-white rounded the street corner. But it's worth it. It must be worth it. For liberty.
By 9:00 p.m., the air is thick with smoke and the stench of gunpowder and cordite. Call it the stink of freedom. I do. Skyrockets burst in the night sky. Maybe a brushfire ignites. I doubt it. But if a fire breaks out, it's the fire of freedom. By God.
Posted by H.L. Monkey at July 4, 2006 10:34 PM