Not much for celebrating 4th of July, I ordered a RedOctane Ignition Dance Pad from an Amazon seller. I expect guaranteed amusement in 3-7 short days.
It's a rant to itself that stores don't close to allow their families to celebrate [our national independence]. And I fell for it. I consumed. I exhibited love for my country by going shopping -- because the alternative would've been to stay home and watch "Independence Day" on the television, which newsflash, has nothing to do with anything.
When the fireworks were detonating, I did manage to slip on a pair of shoes and walk down to the corner. In the streetlight, over the trees and (on average) $700,000 homes, where I knew the beach to be, I caught a corner of the light show for about 20 seconds. A neighbor child yelled, "It's so big!" And a neighbor laughed with his buddies, drunk, "Man, it's like a fuckin' war zone." He was referring to the sky from our angle, flashing and periodically booming with orange haze.
Why am I nonchalant about fireworks? The short answer: my first job was at Sea World. Every night all summer they set off a load of fireworks. I feel like I've seen more than my share. And I also don't trust them. Cheeky sky fire casing our burnables. That's how spontaneous combustion got started.
There was an article in the local paper last week. Homes here are selling on average for $1,000,000.
Guess we'll keep renting.
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