Before I get to the kvetching, would you please take the following, roll it up, attach a fuse to it, light it on fire and then plug your ears until it blows up.*
WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?
*Caution: Emits showers of sparks. Once ignited, do not hold in hand. Use only if you want to scare the shit out of little old ladies and small animals.
Hi everyone. I volunteered a while back to take the helm tonight because the 4th isn’t my favorite holiday. While the people at the party I’m attending are drinking sangria and setting things on fire, I’d really rather sit here with you. The hosts were kind enough to let me use their computer.
There are several reasons that the 4th bugs me. For one, I think that purchasing fireworks is a waste of money. You might as well just take a lighter and set fire to the cash as far as I’m concerned. State of the economy, blah, blah, blah. Money better spent on others, blah, blah, blah. People without health insurance while we frivolously set fire to stuff made in China, blah, blah, blah.
Also, I don’t like noise all that much. I live in Portland, OR right on the border with Washington and everyone goes up to Vancouver to buy the illegal stuff. It’s gotten worse and worse in the past few years. (An aside – actually, now that I think about it, this year has been uncharacteristically quiet. Maybe the economy has taken it’s toll on this as well. Normally, the mortars start blowing up 3 or 4 days ahead and continue well after the 4th. Very quiet this year. Hmmm...)
It just seems that the holiday which showcases our collective spirit as Americans also represents some of the worst we have to offer. It embarrasses me that the holiday which is, by its very definition, the quintessense of "American" becomes, by it’s collective components, America laid bare. It’s the waste and the noise and the jingoism. Big. Loud. Wasteful. Pushy. Frequently drunken. Often kitsch-laden and cheaply sentimental. Crammed with overconsumption.
I know. I’m a killjoy. I’m sorry. I actually do enjoy one thing about the 4th. The big fireworks displays. (I know. Not logical. That's me for ya.) Until this year, Fort Vancouver just over the Columbia River was one of the more spectacular displays on the west coast. In fact, it is said to have been the largest fireworks display west of the Mississippi. In previous years, we’ve had parties where everyone would collect on our upper deck to watch the beautiful blooms soar ino the sky across the river and to "ooooooo!" and "aaahhhhh!" Sadly this year, after 47 years, the fort will be dark over the 4th. There wasn’t enough money, you see. Another victim of the Bush recession. Another thing to make me shake my head, Eeyore-like and mope.
Anyway, that’s my f*&#^n’ problem. A minor one.
What’s buggin’ you tonight?