The 4th, "Milk," and Pathetic Fireworks

My mother is now watching "Milk," and I have my own thoughts on that movie and all that it imports--in short, I'm all for gay rights, vehemently, but I think the flamboyance of every "Gay Pride" parade, though entertaining and fun, really hamstrings what it's all about, a demonstration and celebration, not a spectacle of instigation. But I digress...somewhat.

It's the 4th of July, and I'm in Indiana. Fireworks plague nearly all states, but really annoy the sane, pragmatic citizens of states in which they are legal (eg Indiana, shockingly) and can be bought readily. It's actually the same argument I have for legalization of drugs, prostitution, gay marriage (admittedly innocuous in comparison) etc.: anything should be legal as long as it doesn't impinge upon the rights of others.

We have a gazebo in our backyard, and it could quite possibly go up in flames because of an errant bottle rocket or Roman candle. How stupid do you have to be to be excited/thrilled by an explosive display of random light? This says nothing of the troglodytes who enjoy the detonation of M-80s and sticks of dynamite, which offer nothing but a loud boom. You have to be legally retarded to find pleasure in these things. My dad, for instance, used to lob quarter-sticks of dynamite outside of windows in order to startle those indoors. Point made.

Even as I write this, projectiles and all manners of artillery explode outside. Again, I ask, how dumb do you have to be to want to recreate the sounds of war? I wish that anyone with an as-yet-unlit quarter-stick of dynamite will meet the same fate as the child in Jennifer Aniston's children's book in "Along Came Polly." That is, admittedly, one of my favorite movies, and you'll have to watch it to know what I mean.

R