After a great weekend, I wanted to share a couple anecdotes and observations.

Last night on July 4th, after a long day at the Gilbert Tea Party as well as a classic 4th of July BBQ, I was pretty tired. I was thinking about the big bag of perfectly legal fireworks sitting in my closet, and pondering going out front and blowing some off. I decided to wait until the other neighborhood patriots had given me the unofficial “All Clear” with the blast off of their fireworks. When I started hearing an explosion every 30-60 seconds, I knew it was time. My tiredness wore off, and I was like a little kid running to find my fireworks and lighter.

Let me explain my neighborhood layout. I live in a little pocket of newer homes just south of the deer valley airport. This is where many of the police and news helicopters are stationed. On the outskirts of the little pocket I live in are older homes which were build in the 70\'s. This area is by no means ghetto, but there\'s a little more riff raff. You know, occasional ghetto birds hovering above, and the occasional meth house burning down. In other words, nothing to be concerned about. Anyhow, my little neighborhood is pretty quiet and I have made friends with and occasionally downed a couple beers with the dude to the North two houses and the guy to the South about 5 houses. However, just like many neighborhoods in America these days, you have the Obama death squad err I mean civialian security turnocats which are looking to turn you in for violating your carbon emission limits and whatever else. Of course these snitching fuddy duddy types never come out of their house long enough for you to get a good look at them, let alone meet them or have a conversation. It\'s like having Bigfoot living next door. There are myths of sightings, but no visual proof.

So here I am really hanging my balls out there dragging this huge bag of fireworks into the street. I\'m ready to risk that the retired DPS officer at the end of the block is going to turn me in, or the fuddy duddies are going to call the death squad, or maybe the Phoenix PD is gonna get their ghetto birds infrared heat gun on me and send the SWAT team over with assault rifles. I am ready to risk it all to celebrate our countries independence with a couple fireworks. I decide to start with the mortars in the tubes that make the big displays. I blow off about two or three, and next thing you know the neighborhood sprang to life. People started coming out of their house from all directions. I had three or four kids to the South and about 4 adults to the North. Nobody said anything, they just stood and watched, so I thought “Cool, other people want to see my rad fireworks.” Turns out, these cranky crotchety old folks to the north were just waiting for the right timing to scold me for my un-neighborly behavior. The first unknown middle aged blonde wildebeast said in a snotty tone, “Are you almost done with that,” to which I answered “Would you like me to be done” ? She said “Yes,” and then the middle aged inner tube gut gentleman piped up and said “Yeah, a piece of that hit my truck.” I politely said “Oh, I\'m sorry I didn\'t mean to cause a disturbance, beautiful fireworks aren\'t they”, to which none of the old grump a lumps said a word. I was proceeding towards my driveway as I boisterously stated “Happy 4th of July everyone, It\'s great to celebrate our countries independence isn\'t it.” To which, once again, I received no reply.

Here\'s what I found amazing. First, I\'ve never met these grumps, and they live three of four houses away from me. Second, instead of speaking to me in a polite neighborly tone, they chose to speak to me like I was Al Qaeda. Shit, I\'m pretty sure If I kept lighting fuses, the Phoenix PD would have been at my doorstep. What happened to the America where neighbors acted neighborly, and two adults could communicate like adults? It goes without saying that these types of people are the reason America is in the shape it\'s in. Everything has become so impersonal, and the sheeple have gotten so boring. Even the sheeple don\'t like to have fun anymore, what gives?

Anyhow, there is a positive ending to this story. I packed up my truck and headed South into the riff raffy neighborhood to look for other trouble makers and boy did I find them. I found a whole block of revelers who were happy to have me and my fireworks. No houses were lit on fire, and no cops came by. The moral of the story is I know which block I\'m heading towards when the N.W.O comes stomping down my street. So, you see this 4th actually turned into a really good intelligence gathering session.

CHEERS PATRIOTS,