Here in the blogosphere, lots of writers will be crafting posts called “Fireworks.” Surely, the word will be trending today? I should be writing a post about Kathie Veilleux and Smokey Moxie Pork Wings, but I didn’t buy any ribs this week. I’ll buy the ribs this weekend and we’ll feature Kathie on Monday. Crap, I’ll need to buy a grill, too.
I’ve written about fireworks before.
This is my favorite fireworks post.
Smoke, fire, combustion, pork wings. Why am I sitting here listening to a song about fireworks by a band from Canada? I’m paraphrasing their lyrics here:
“she said she didn’t give a BLEEP about fireworks, and I never saw someone say that before.”
If it were still the Eighties, would I have been called a Commie?
I’ve got to go. I have to hang a flag or two down at my house so no one accuses me of being a bad American, a Canadian, or something worse.
No fireworks until Moxie…baybee.