I Refuse to Celebrate the Chinese Fourth of July

Fireworks are unpatriotic.  Fireworks are un-American.  Here’s why…

I’ve had it with fireworks.  I don’t like them.

I mean, what’s the point of igniting a bunch of cheap toys that whistle, crack, and pop?  What sick joker pops in his pants over that?  I just don’t get it.

Shouldn’t we all outgrow this morbid fascination with fire and loud explosions by the time we’ve drunk our first beer?  Oh wait — never mind.  I forgot that we are a nation of animal killers and gun nuts.

Fireworks serve no purpose at all.  They essentially celebrate war.  What other visual comes to mind when the entire city sky is lit up with booming fire?  Sorry people, it doesn’t thrill me to look over the skyline where I reside and hope to see a re-creation of what Baghdad looked like during Desert Storm.

But let’s first start with the obvious.  Fireworks are unpatriotic.  That’s right.  Fireworks are un-American.

Where are all fireworks made?  Answer…

COMMUNIST CHINA.

That’s right.

The Reds have been shipping us fireworks from the moment Chairman Mao was tossing his citizens into dungeons during the Great Cultural Revolution for blasphemies such as listening to Western classical music.

I realize that we’ve moved way past those Joe McCarthy days of thinking of China as the evil empire.  Hell, we’ve pretty much abdicated our entire manufacturing capacity over to the Chinese whose workers have no other option than to work in sweatshops for slave wages so we’ll have enough shit to buy at the Dollar Store.  Let’s just rename the country the United States of Walmart.

The Chinese have to come basically own the Fourth of July.  We’re all getting punked big time.  Check out the label on the box where your American flag is stored.  You might be horrified to learn where Old Glory was made.  There’s a good chance it was sewn and shipped from China.

But let’s get back to fireworks.  They’re unpatriotic.  They’re violent.  They terrify our pets.  And, they’re dangerous.

While you’re at the park getting an erection every time the giant cherry ball in the sky pops over the bank building, your poor terrified pet is probably at home pissing all over the carpet.  Reports are that thousands of animals run away in terror, fearing some kind of attack.  They don’t understand fireworks are part of a so-called celebration.  For dogs and cats, July 4th is a living hell.

Fireworks are even worse in our neighborhoods, where they’re basically used as toys.  Just this morning I found four bottle rockets in my back yard.  If I had been at home, I would have fired back a few Roman Candles at the motherfuckers who use my five giant pines as target practice.

Tell you what.  If you like fireworks so much, then stick them up your ass.

I’ll even be glad to light the fuse.

I don’t like fireworks.  I don’t like them at all.

TAG: Nolan Dalla writings