On the subject of the Fourth

Another Fourth of July has arrived and gone... well, actually the Fourth always goes into the Fifth... way into the Fifth... at least that is what I heard this morning.

In some ways I hate the Fourth of July. It brings back some very bad memories and makes new ones each year. Happily, this year was an exception, for the most part.

As someone who grew up just outside of Washington, DC, the holiday should be like New Year's to a person from NYC. It's just not.

I love our country, not as much as my Dad, but I sometimes can't stand the people. Now I might get some comments here, but hear me out first. What is it about the Fourth that makes people forget what the definition of "legal" is? 

Every Fourth is like a war zone in my neighborhood, and I think I live in a pretty nice place. The citizens of my neighborhood have fireworks stands available to them at nearly every corner. There are more fireworks stands than there are Starbucks... and this is Seattle! (Okay - a suburb - but you get the idea.)

It is illegal in our county to have any firework that propels itself into the air. Firecrackers. OK. Roman Candles. OK. Small gauge noise makers. OK. But every year, without fail, it seems like everyone has gone to a Reservation and bought fireworks that are illegal every where except the reservation. Thus, there are very loud booms and the remnants of the rockets red glare end up on my wooden shingle roof. When it does not rain, we have to water our roof to avoid a fire that will burn down our house... and we've seen it happen to others.

I am all for celebrating, but like many things in this country, there is a sense of entitlement. People think they can just take the rules and regulations and use them when they find it convenient. Want to fund a sports arena? Have cops stand busy intersections and ticket people who don't understand it's a right turn on red AFTER a stop. Want to cut the state deficit? Send some patrols around on the Fourth and hand out tickets for illegal fireworks violations. Want to lose a basketball team, live in Seattle and trust your elected officials and a robberbarren Okie. (I digress.)

Okay, call me a party pooper. (Thousands scream in unison... "Hey, Jon, you're a party pooper!") I just believe in what is just. 

Did I always follow the rules? Speed limits... probably not, but I don't weave. Drinking age? Admittedly no, but I was never so drunk that I could not take care of my friends. Otherwise, I try... I TRY to do what is right. Not perfect, never will be, but I will always try to be a good example for my children and my contemporaries.

I'll admit I am a prejudiced person. I hate stupid people. I mean people who have a choice to be stupid, and take it. It's like I say to my kids all the time... what part of NO don't you understand.

Alright, time to step off my soapbox... and return you to your country already in progress.

Good night, my fellow Americans.

Yours truly,

Johnny Blogger