The Fourth of July is so fucking lame, especially here in Sacramento. But it sucks in general too. I haven’t found an article claiming so, and yet I feel compelled to write it. The Fourth sucks harder than a deaf kid under the surplice of a Catholic.

When one thinks of the Fourth of July, independence I’m sure (I hope) comes to mind, maybe freedom of the press, or even why Tea Partiers can’t spell check cardboard signs. I was thinking, damn I’d sure love to go camping in the woods, and not deal with what typically sounds like the Palestinian Liberation Organization taking over West Beirut. But what the hell, I’m home doing crosswords after work and hoping my 11 year old dog doesn’t have a heart attack.

I digress, freedom, that’s what this is all about. I overheard someone say, “Take that you Limeys, let’s not forget what this is about”. Semper fuckin Fi I say. Bleed on the flag to keep it red.

Why Sacramento instead of another city? Well, Sacramento doesn’t have any WIND. The stagnant air of car pollution compounded with sulfuric devil fart smells of fireworks linger for far too long in the valley. The ground is stained with blues and ash, and blackened cylinders of what was once a medium to celebrate savings, or independence, or whatever. I could go on and on about the fire hazards here and how California’s is burning on an annual basis, from top to bottom for four or five months in the summer. What’s more American than confusing pollution with freedom?

Far more important than living in a geographical purgatory, and under the California powder keg is what people do with this independence. Things like watch four hours of television a day, or think Twilight and Dannie Darko are good movies. The purchase and lighting of fireworks is kind of like voting patterns here. We wait and wait, then it happens, its time to make a difference or celebrate. But when we get to the fireworks stand or the polling place we get eight different kinds of disappointment. Lighting off crappy fireworks in your front yard has become a metaphor for how citizens behave in this country with respect to democracy, designated times and places. I don’t need one day a year to know I can fuck shit up, and get weird.

There’s some good shit out there but you have to cross borders and see what’s actually being created beyond what any fucking whitewashed Tuff-Shed is selling in a church parking lot. The good shit is in Wisconsin and New Mexico as far as I have known.

Tangent: I was thinking why there are no fireworks boutiques yet here in Sacramento selling illustrious and prestigious fireworks, handcrafted from the nimble fingers of illegal Chinese refugees living in tunnels beneath Mexico City or Tijuana. The fireworks stands are all white rectangle boxes, big fucking deal. I want a fucking warehouse in the middle of nowhere that have one time use canons, shooting a stream of flammable tar 300 feet into the air. Straying again sorry. Sacramento just seems like the place where a fireworks boutique is most likely to occur. Churches shouldn’t have the monopoly, and nor should they.

I take issue by and large with firework stands in this city largely support churches. No thanks. I won’t buy another firework in Sacramento as long as I live, if the money is going to hijackers of all stripes who hoard the money and jack off to still pics of their kids’ friends playing in an under ten soccer league. Maybe those who are volunteering know where the money is going. I guess even God needs a fund raiser here and there.

Let’s not forget our veterans, PTSD or not, these fireworks can be just disrespectful to our veterans. Did any of you go to your neighbor and talk to them about lighting off hours worth of what sounds like bullets, and incoming crude shells? You didn’t.

America: Let’s not waste time on crappy fireworks once a year and let’s not waste our freedom. We can get fucked up and do weird shit whenever we want to.