They Can Have My Bottle Rockets When They Pry Them...


Once again this year, the City Of Portland turned a blind eye to the massive amounts of illegal fireworks displays that go on in our city. I thank them for this, and I hope it never changes.

I couldn't think of anywhere to go at dusk on our 229th birthday, so I came home and floated in my pool - accepting that I would see no pyrotechnics. Then I heard that sweet "whoof!" that announces the imminent explosion of something truly bad-ass. Then came a barrage of heavy-duty, professional-level fireworks, not legal in any state, launched from the middle of the street on a block that was closed off by my neighbors, without permits of any kind.

And if I walked for 5 straight miles north or east, something would've topped it every 5 blocks - with deafening ordnance of varying intensity filling in every tenth of a second between the greater bombs bursting in air.
And 100% of it is illegal, and illogical, and the cops do absolutely nothing about it. And that, to me, is an incredibly beautiful thing.

In my (very easy) search for artillery against the modern, flaccid, consumerist pretense of liberalism that is driving modern Portland, I can think of nothing more pathetic than the fact that people actually have the fucking nerve to bitch about the "trauma" their dogs suffer when things explode on the Fourth Of July.
I think I may have written about this before.

When did we become such enormous goddamn pussies? As a child, every thunderstorm would send my otherwise-fearless German Shepherd whimpering into the tightest corner he could find, well before I could even hear it. And the instant it was over, he forgot it forever. Just like every other dog who ever lived. So shut the fuck up.

Relatively speaking, the United States of America is a very comfortable place to live. There has never been a time when the explosions of actual warfare ravaged my neighborhood. My parents didn't experience that either. Or their parents, or their parents...

The down side to this is that it makes us way too willing to start wars, because we have no concept of the pointless, endless terror they bring to the world. This is a form of arrogance that I truly fear will one day require a massive comeuppance for us to snap out of. But I really hope not.

In the meantime, we sort of play at war I guess - for reasons best discussed by people who went to school way longer (and partied way less) than I did.
For some reason, I don't get caught up in how this warfare culture is simulated by the line of scrimmage in American football, or the need to spend ridiculous amounts of money to blow shit up for 10 minutes a year; I just wanna blow shit up and watch football, because those things make me happy.

Anyone who complains to me about fireworks traumatizing their dog needs to fly to Syria or Somalia, spend a couple weeks, then come back and apologize to me and my friends for being a privileged, classist turd.

I will accept, and then together we will light fuses.


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