Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Look At This Hornet Nest I Found, Here, Let Me Poke This Stick In It And See What Happens!
My esteemed fellow blogger and real life journalist, Mr. Ed Kemmick , and all of today's commenters thus far with the exception of yours truly, seem to have jumped on a very disturbing bandwagon that I see gaining steam everyday in our great state. In today's post Ed applauds the fine City of Billings in their draconian enforcement of the fireworks ban that I consider just one of the many reasons why I will have to be dragged kicking and screaming before I will ever so much as consider living within the city limits.
Now normally I would be my normal live and let live self rather than nominating myself unofficial "City Lights" critic for the day, but Ed said something with a flavor that ranks right up there with fingernails on a chalkboard in the great realm of Justinisms.
In Ed's own words, cribbed from the very post of which I speak.
"I was a serial offender myself for many years, blowing off fireworks in my front and back yards, in the alley, in the street, on the McKinley School playground, etc. My conversion to a law-abiding citizen came with the acquisition, some five years ago, of an extremely skittish dog. No, not skittish, just super-sensitive to loud noises, even distantly heard loud noises."
So let me get this straight Ed. Not only did you do it yourself but are now somehow reformed and therefore better than we who would choose to celebrate the independence of our great nation in the traditional way, but your dog's a wuss, so everybody in town should drop what they're doing and bow down before the holiness that is the Kemmick family pooch?
I don't mean to pick on Ed so bad, the comments on his post are living proof that he's not the only freedom hating old busybody in town that's so fragile as to not be able to tolerate a couple pops and cracks in the name of this once wonderful country we call the United States of America, but come on man, you're a somewhat respected journalist, you don't have to stand up and applaud the communist bastards in the name of your friggin dog for Christ's sake.
This attitude is the reason why our country is headed directly into the proverbial toilet. "I don't like it so nobody should be allowed to do it, I'm special and I'm all that matters, everyone else should bow down and kiss my ass, my dog is more important than your freedom." Poppycock.
In response to all of these people that I'm sure will fire back at me here and on Ed's blog with a whole shitload of statistics and horror stories and whatever other reasons they can muster to justify their own positions in direct opposition to freedom whether it involves fireworks or seatbelts or cigarettes or helmets or open containers of alcoholic beverages, I'd like to ask you this.
When was the last time that your, that's your own, not your cousin in Cincinnati, not somebody that you saw on Oprah, not your cousin's stepsister's uncle's former roommate's, but your very own house got burned down because of somebody horsing around with fireworks? If there's one person out there that can name a date I'll be really surprised. Even so, there's a lot of people out there total so I still wouldn't consider that good enough odds to suppress the freedom of a single American citizen in any way, shape, or form. As a very wise man once said, "Shit Happens". If I were to ever see entire blocks of our fair city ablaze on the morning of the 5th of July, perhaps then I would consider this to be a just and forthright law. Until then I'll consider it nothing but the extremely loud whining of a handful of babies that managed to get their way simply because the city spied a potential source of revenue in the form of fines.
I'm sure lots of fires get started by careless morons with fireworks every year, but I'm the type that's more inclined to ask "How many people didn't start any fires with their fireworks last year?" If an honest study were done I'm sure it would find for a resounding majority on the side of safety and responsibility, as would be the case with most all of the once common things that the "childproof the planet" crowd have succeeded in outlawing.
With that I'd like to announce the beginning of What I Think (as if you give a damn)'s official campaign to ban the eating of turkey on Thanksgiving. I fucking hate turkey so I don't think you people should be allowed to eat it and I'm important damn it. Don't say that it's different because your eating of turkey doesn't hurt me, oh no, you're not going to get away with that lame assed excuse buddy. For the next week after your little turkey slaughtering festival every place I walk into is trying to pawn off a turkey sandwich on me. You bastards don't even eat these once majestic birds, in your insatiable thirst for bloody feathers you just kill kill kill, then roast their eviscerated carcasses and leave them in the fridge to rot except for what sandwich meat you can pawn off on unwary visitors. I see right through your bloodthirsty annual death fest, and I'm going to put a stop to it. LONG LIVE THE TURKEYS!
As a side note I'm going to branch out and ban the cutting of Christmas trees because it's a horrible waste of a natural resource, that and it disturbs my goldfish, I don't know why it just does, he's sensitive. Poor little fellow goes belly up instantly the second he hears a chainsaw. Last year I had to spend a fortune on life support at the vet's office just to keep him alive until it stopped. I'd also like to ban the wearing of green on St. Patrick's day, just because I'm an asshole and I can't stand to see other people having fun, even if they are Irish.
Sound ridiculous? Goddamn right it does, now go check yourselves before we're all required to put on a helmet and a padded suit within five minutes of getting out of bed, bunch of self righteous crybaby fuckers, grow some stones and deal with it. Just because you don't like something doesn't make it wrong, and it'd be a cold day in hell when I'd use my dog as an excuse to cramp someone else's style.
Now I'm sure I've once again placed myself directly in front of a virtual firing squad of name calling and statistic spouting and blah blah blah. Go ahead, let me have it, just keep in mind that I really don't give a shit if your cousin Elmo doesn't have any fingers because he lit an M80 and held it in his hand and now the poor bastard has to pick his nose with his pinky toe, nor do I care if your poor little dog Fluffy pisses himself whenever he so much as smells burning incense.
When I was a kid I had a dog that was afraid of loud noises, guess what, he lived to a ripe old age and an astounding majority of his life was devoid of loud noises and therefore all and all he was a very happy little hound. I loved that dog, but I lit fireworks every year in honor of the groundwork that our nation's forefathers layed for us to live by, that and I really like blowing shit up. He may not have liked it, but he survived and your dog will too. If you'd piss away the efforts of people like Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson because your dog's a pussy, then so be it. Just don't expect me to join you, and don't let me hear you bitching when something that you believe in gets outlawed because some other whiney bastard doesn't like it. Over the top? You goddamned right, but don't say I didn't warn you.
Kegger and barbeque at my place 4th of July weekend, bring explosives or don't bother showing up.
Let the beatings begin, the comment link is ready and waiting, you know you want to. ;)