Happy Co-dependence Day!

Happy 4th of July!!

Happy Independence Day!!

Has anyone lost a finger yet?! What the fuck, America? I count on you to give me no less than five incidences per hour where someone loses an appendage thanks to the celebrations of this, our remembrance of the liberation from insane taxing practices and near tyrannical leadership from a mad, power hungry dictator.

We did get liberated from that right? At least for a little while, right?

Back to the point. Which was…let me read here…injuries. Yes. Right. So, why do people hold on to fireworks for so long? I don’t get that. “Look here, the bottle rocket is really fizzing now! Should I let go?” And to that I say, “Hell no, Billy Bob! You got, what, ten fingers? You can spare a couple!”
So far, no one in my neighborhood has lost a digit. No ambulances have been around, anyway. But the folks around here love fireworks. They don’t even wait for the Fourth. Hell, no! We have fireworks every weekend, and that’s not counting the gunfire! So they’re well practiced. No losing of fingers here, just hearing.

But I keep hoping for the ‘whistle…POP!’ and then, “Oh, God, my (insert digit or sensory organ here)!”

The Princess, however; she isn’t into the fireworks thing. No, right now she is trying to hide under the computer desk, which is giving her trouble because she’s put on some weight since she’s last been under there, and it’s a lot like putting ten pounds of poo into a nine pound bag. Which is just exciting her more, and making the desire to get under there even more pressing. We should go for a walk so she can chill out, or chase a squirrel. She never tires of that.

So I wish you all a happy 4th of July. Being a bit of a patriot, I see this day as a great time to think about what our forefathers were doing. Some folks like to think the whole DoI and Constitution were vague, and that they wrote it so purposefully. I see no vagaries, nor any gray area. To me, it’s as clear as day. I get it. I probably see it as clear since I don’t choose to exploit it. I let it protect me, not excuse me from my fears and insecurities.
That was a shot to all gun nuts. Here’s another: no gun will solve the penis problem. I don’t care what caliber your round is. It’s okay to be small; just get really good at head! See, problem solved! Women come, your ego is sated, and no one was in the least bit of danger of accidentally blowing a limb off. Learn to love your dick and you will find that the guns you own are useless.
Maybe someday I will rant about the whole “separation of church and state” thing. But today, thanks to all the explosions, it’s all about “right to bear arms IN AN ORGANIZED MILITIA.” And no, your little collection of “too bad they’re cans not coons” shooting buddies doesn’t count as a militia. Organized idiots are not militias. They’re baseball teams. And NASCAR fans. But not militias. A militia is registered with the state it resides in, and must maintain a roster that has members that have completed a background check and training in firearm safety and maintenance. Of course, I could be wrong. That is what the FBI says a militia is. But what do they know about the law? They’re just federal cops…
We’d all be a lot better off if we actually read, and paid attention to, the single government document that has the greatest influence on your life.

So, back to the 4th. I do love this holiday, and I really enjoy the fireworks displays. To be honest, my love for them has diminished somewhat. I used to share fireworks with someone very special to me, and now that she is gone, they aren’t as much fun. I keep missing how sincere her oohs and aahs sounded when the pretty ones would go off. Like too much in this world, and too often, I am reminded of what I had and what I lost. Something reminds me of her, or Bob, or my friends from the Philly, or my close relatives: people dead, people leaving and being left. I wonder sometimes if I define my life by what I’ve lost. It does seem that way, doesn’t it? Most likely to you, dear readers of my bloggy-blog thing, since that is what is most often what I write about. But hey, this one started out funny, didn’t it? I had some real momentum going there, a couple of nasty little barbs, then maudlin. All this self pity, what will I do with you? Does anybody want some? I have some to spare!

Ahh, fuck it! Let’s all just hate the gun nuts! I wonder what Dick Cheney is doing on the 4th? I know what that banker he shot is doing: hiding. And not wearing orange, because that sure didn’t work last time!