"Maria and I started off the evening at a gathering hosted by one of our friends. They have a compound—a bunch of cabins—overlooking the Harpeth River, one of the local tributaries. We wrapped up there and headed back to the house to set off my fireworks, and when we rolled into our place it sounded like Sadr City. All around us people were shooting off stuff, some of it with an impressive caliber, explosions and crackling, and streams of sparks flying through the air. I think gas prices are encouraging people to put a few bucks into fireworks and stay close to home. I poured myself a Jack Daniels—mixing explosives and alcohol is simply a requirement hereabouts—and set off the goodies I purchased at one of the tents that pop up just across the line from Nashville-Davidson County, where fireworks are illegal. Of course as far out as I live, there are relatively few restrictions on what you can fire or blow up, as long as it’s not aimed at someone in particular."
We may be blue (more like violet, actually) in a red state, but we still appreciate alcohol, gunpowder and the slave labor of China. Who says moonbats aren't real Americans?