Whatever happened to the good old days when you could go to a brightly painted, plywood shed and buy enough black powder to send your fingers into four neighboring counties (at buy-one-get-two-free prices no less)?

The Fourth of July is just not the same for me since our society has gotten all safety conscious. I remember buying M-80s that would blow a Coke can in two and bottle rockets that could deliver my Star Wars action figures into low Earth orbit.

Now days, the news starts up the pro-pig-anda on about July 1st. Some stern-faced police sergeant shakes his finger into the camera so that everyone knows if you light a sparkler in city limits you’ll be jailed for a couple of decades and routinely have humiliating pictures taken of you by rogue U.S. Marines.

I would like to get my hands on “that one kid” who held a cherry bomb in his hand until it wasn’t his hand anymore. That kid ruined this great holiday for all the rest of us. Shame on him. If it weren’t for him we wouldn’t have constitutional amendments that state no citizen of the U.S. shall purchase any celebratory explosive device more dangerous than “the amazing growing snake”. Now, if your an illegal Mexican laborer, you may feel free to bring several sticks of dynamite across the border with you and celebrate OUR independence (and catch a few fish with out a fishing pole).