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Let’s go blow something up. I’m not talking terrorism. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I just want to blow something up, just for fun. Make some noise. Not a criminal act. 

I mean, let’s make something explode! Not set it on fire, not throw it out the window. Not take a sledge hammer to it. Blow it up, I say. Blow the fuck out of it. Like my neighbors do every chance they get.

It’s a fact. Men like to blow things up. Women do not. 

My neighbors celebrate every holiday with a barrage of explosives. Firecrackers like cherry bombs, and the window busting M-80s. Shaped like a little WWII depth charge, the damn M-80 could blow off a finger. Or two.  

Fireworks on the 4th of July are barely tolerable yet completely expected (more on that bit of dementia in a minute) but now Christmas gets its share of explosions, too. I’ve seen Santa’s sleigh get reduced to cinders descending from the sky. Ahhh, the nostalgic aromas of Christmas: gun powder and fresh baked cookies. You really want to see a mess? Blow up a fruitcake. But do it outdoors. Otherwise you’ll be picking dried fruit bits off the walls for months. 

Christmas in my neighborhood always includes pyrotechnics. From lady fingers to black cats to the always festive M-80s. What would Christmas Eve be without explosives? Maybe we’d actually have a Silent Night. Around here it’s more like Silent Night, Holy Moly Night. If they had their way, poor Santa would blow out of the chimney like a rocket. Boom! Bang!! Merry Christmas!!! 

In my neighborhood, almost any occasion is a good opportunity to blow something up.

Halloween. Thanksgiving. Mother’s Day. Father’s Day. Your birthday. All excuses to set off firecrackers and shoot guns into the air. I strap a saucepan on my head when a holiday hits. I look like Johnny Appleseed.  

Bullets go up, then they come down. Fast. You won’t see me out in the backyard ogling the pyrotechnics in the sky with guns going off all around me. Even the cops sit in their patrol cars under a bridge at midnight. Saucepans handy. 

New Year’s Eve. Yet another neighborhood Armageddon. It’s expected. Starting off the new year with a series of violent explosions and every gun made being shot into the air at once is a great way to say hello to the future. Another saucepan night. Or hide in the car. Or in the basement, while across the street they’ve run out of bullets and firecrackers and are dragging the kitchen gas stove out onto the street. Blow that bad boy up!  

What will I blow up for Easter?

Put Roman candles on the cross? I know! How about Roman candles arranged in a sunrise pattern behind Jesus’ head? The hell with a resurrected deity rolling a giant stone from the entrance to the burial cave – dynamite the fifty ton sucker!

How about an Exploding Easter Egg Hunt? You just have to find the gunpowder kerosene infused chocolate eggs before they explode. (Don’t hard boil them.) Find the hidden eggs before they’re gone in a burst of flaming kerosene, melting chocolate, and albumen. A little pyroclastic cocoa cloud. Chocolate shrapnel. Open wide, here comes the Bunny’s head. Mmmm. 

Now let’s get down business. New Year’s Eve. The whole place goes nuts. The 4th of July pales in comparison to the roar of fireworks in my Neighborhoodageddon on New Year’s Eve. New Year’s 2020 was especially deafening. A midnight audio tsunami of roaring gunfire echoing in the hills. Not even actual battle in war produces that kind of noise. I always suffer from PTSD after a fireworks show. Or a Led Zepplin concert. 

My shrink says setting off fireworks empowers the one who lights the fuse. The bigger the noise – the more empowerment.

Despite the popularity of explosive holidays, there’s good news on the horizon. Increasingly, little drones hover above the sprawled out drunken 4th of July couples, lighting up the sky in a myriad of mini-lights. Hundreds of red white and blue computerized drones line up to form a rolling tank, a battleship, and everybody’s favorite – a giant American flag waving overhead! Light-up mini-drones are gradually replacing the celebratory wartime fireworks displays. The only all drone drawback – there’s no crowd pleasing explosion accompanying the drone display. Pretty. But pretty boring, too. Except for the humongous flying mini-light Jesus drone display, robes flowing, arms spread wide, blessing the crowd. 

While the appeal is obviously lost on me, most guys love to blow stuff up. And since most 4th of July fireworks shows have been scaled down or completely cancelled this year, here’s a little video that will blow you away.

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About The Author:

Bill Holslag

Bill Holslag

I worked for the CBS Television Network producing promos, from 1981 to 2010. By then I’d had enough promo and almost got busted making underground films on the lot. It was time I quit. Retirement lasted about 5 minutes. Soon I began writing, producing, and directing episodes of two micro-budget Web Series: Detective Henderson and the Silver Lake Menace, and Bill: Paranormal Investigator. I have big ego, and have a New Jersey mouth. Great combo. So step back if you piss me off. I hope you get a kick out of my writing. Visit Bill's YouTube channel and watch Bill: Paranormal Investigator.

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