My Baloney Has a First Name

Dear Annoying (but, apparently, quite patriotic) Neighborhood Fucktards,

You know, I can appreciate that you wish to celebrate the birth of this great nation of ours by, say, roasting weenies, buying electronics for half-off, and drinking three-quarters of the national output of AnheuserBusch. However your desire to blow three or more fingers off with a particularly exuberant (and illegal in all five of our merry boroughs) M-80 is somewhat less comprehensible–to me anyway, at least. I mean, why use sparklers* when one can show the world their undying love for king and country (ah yes, we stopped that business after that lovely tea party) mom, baseball, and apple pie with quarter stick of dynamite?? Yes!! Happy Birthday America, watch this Jumpin’ Jack wing itself off a car and right back into me because I’m so busy celebrating I cannot possibly recall the laws of physics!!

Bless.

*I mean, sure, sparklers are ALSO illegal here, but at least they’re fairly innocuous as fireworks go. And nowhere NEAR as showy or loud; but ones eardrums and most limbs are usually safe from harm if used correctly. Mostly. Just mind the sparks if you are wearing flip-flops at the time. This is the Voice of Experience speaking. Ahem.

I am also QUITE willing to forgive the fact that, apparently, not one of you own a calendar (and clearly STILL don’t) and started the Lose-a-Limb Fest on the 3rd, rather than waiting until the next day. You were excited!! You wanted to hear things go BOOM!!

Fine. That’s absolutely FINE.

In spite of all this, though, I am in a bit of a quandary. The Beast and Scourge of the Neighbor Round the Corner’s Lawn, you see, is petrified of firecrackers. And M-80s. Even your average regulation cap-gun type noises. And, heaven help us, a thunderstorm will render her apoplectic.

Now I am perfectly willing to sit at home with the Beast for the whole of the 4th of July when everyone else is out cooking hamburgers and drinking themselves into oblivion. Yes, I will deal with the discomfort of having a one-hundred pound dog trying to jump into my arms and/or squeeze herself into the four inches of free space between me, my chair and my desk. She has to go out to use the loo, however, and this, THIS, my fine fellows, is where I draw the line. She can hold it in for the entire evening of the 4th–it’s quite amazing. This is fine.

However, since YOU assclowns are unaware that the 4th, oddly enough, ends on the 4th, you keep continuing to light fucking firecrackers every five bloody minutes. I can only walk her in the morning when you lot are at work/playing your Nintendos/sleeping off your hang-overs. The minute I take her out in the afternoon, one of you nimrods inevitably light a firecracker and she refuses to leave the house. Or shoots right back for the door. And sometimes she CAN’T hold it in.

You can understand my problem here, yes??

What’s the deal, dearies?? What are you celebrating now?? Is Pathmark having a buy two get one free sale on Oscar Mayer wieners?? Toys ‘R Us giving away copies of War of Guitar Heroes Mario Brothers Grand Theft Call of Duty 17 and a half the Godfather Edition??

Ah!! Perhaps you intend on carrying on until Bastille Day in order to show solidarity with our baguette-wielding brethren in France??

Let me tell you something, my fine fellows. If this shit carries on for one more bloody day, you’re going to see the Beast taking care of business on your front porch every day for the next fucking CENTURY.

You will be billed for paper towels, Pine-sol, and any other cleaning materials necessitated for the duration of your idiocy.

And you will find yourself with the business end of a Roman Candle shoved up your arse–in what may possibly be the worlds first Gunpowder-induced enema.

Hugs ‘n kisses.

Love,

Babs