Nothing says "God Bless America" quite like a brief orgy of pyrotechnics that results in large amounts of waste destined for landfills and leaves you feeling both shell-shocked and vaguely unsatisfied.
Tonight I attended a BBQ at a big upscale housing development in the outer west hills of Portland. Rather than put the kids in the minivan and travel into the city for the fireworks show, the Forest Heights dads stage their own. Last year, the dads slipped across the Washington border to buy fireworks that are far more powerful than Oregon law allows. This year's event was more subdued--but there was still plenty of noise and light and smoke and sulfurous stench. When the cardboard cylinders had been spent and the dads were shoveling them into a trash can, I peeled the labels off a few to share with Candleblog readers.
So enjoy these fine examples of fireworks packaging, and be sure to say a word of thanks to the founding fathers who made this holiday possible--and to the Chinese factory workers who so ably and affordably produce the ephemera of our national brand.
Two more below the fold.
