I very much adore The New Yorker‘s Cursing Mommy, even if she is a man. And so on the Fourth of July — a day when I find myself in special sympathy with Cursing Mommy because I would like everyone who sets off fireworks (which are illegal in Seattle by the way) in residential neighborhoods (specifically mine and you bet your ass I’m territorial about it) to suddenly find themselves in a Cone of Explosive Noise That Makes Them Want To Fucking Die bang bang pow boom bang! — this column from the Cursing Mommy seems like the perfect gift to give to all of my beautiful readers who I am sure would never, never do such hideous things.
I feel better now.
Enjoy your Fourth (bang bang oh look I just lit my own house on fire because I’m a moron who thinks the law is written for other people! Oh, there goes my neighbor’s house! Oops! Boom!).
Happy Interdependence day to Kelley and all who live and love near Kelley. Keep on rockin’ in the free world!
LOL!
And I had assumed that unlike LA (where it’s such a fire hazard), fireworks were legal in green-and-damp Seattle…
It’s been dry here but people are still shooting fireworks off, as per usual. Fireworks are allowed in residential areas here, though many of the larger-effect kinds are illegal. Apparently, just about everyone in the surrounding neighborhood made a quick firework-run to Wyoming (hey, it’s only four hours one-way), where such products are sold legally.
I’ve completely shut up the house, I’ve tranquilized my dogs for the evening, and I have the TV and radio on. I don’t mind the noise, but it terrifies my dogs — both were abused badly when they were young & don’t deal with loud noises well.
Of course, in addition to all the popping and banging, there are police/fire/ambulance sirens sounding off right and left. My dad’s on call as psych liason for the E.R. tonight. I wonder what time he’ll get to go home . . .