Today is the 232nd birthday of a nation founded by a group of people who thought, then sustainedly acted upon, the notion that “things don’t have to be this way.”
Have a marvelous Independence Day, dear readers. My plans are to count blessings, grill out, and enjoy a goodly portion of consumer-grade explosives. I hope yours are similarly pleasant.
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My neighbors have been using explosives every evening for about 10 days now. I don’t care if I ever hear or see any more fireworks.
I’m just waiting for the dawn’s early light.
Oh man, Gerry, you’d have hated to have my across-the-street neighbor tonight. He’s got a pro-quality rig over there. I don’t know if he knows someone who has one, or if he’s just a hell of an amateur pyrotechnician, or what, but from the very first unnaturally deep WHOOMPH! of the tubes, it was something special. Tonight we were treated to what an average small city puts on at the ball park, only right across the street. Outstanding.
We had some pretty fountains and three or four decent cakes, but there was no comparison. If I weren’t so tired I’d go check it out.