Alright, so since 4th of July is right around the corner,
I figured I'd do a cartoon about how I used to celebrate it as a kid.
And I feel like there's a pretty wide spectrum of how people celebrate the 4th.
On one end you have people that eat hotdogs and light sparklers
and say the pledge of allegiance.
Simple nice things.
And on the other end...
you got a bunch of drunk maniacs committing domestic terrorism
(BOOM!)
all in the name of America.
Now, what side of the spectrum was I on as a kid?
Well, I guess we're gonna set the scene and find out.
Alright, 4th of July, circa the late 1990s.
Me and my punk-ass friends would be hanging out sweating our asses off,
because it was always, like, the hottest day of the year.
It's so hot,
even the pedophile ice-cream man's handing out free popsicles, like,
"Here, just fucking take 'em!
(Thwack!)
You don't even got to take your shirts off, they're on the house!
It's so goddamn hot outside!"
Everybody's dad is outside,
drunk as hell because they've been drinking since 10:45 in the morning.
"Yeah, I'm drunk. So what?!
George Washington invented freedom,
and I'm free to drink a fucking 40-ounce before breakfast."
(GULP-GULP-GULP!)
Meanwhile your uncle Rick is making hotdogs on the grill,
because... well, it's the 4th of July,
and your ass is probably gonna be eating hotdogs for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
"Alright, everybody, get your Red Hots!"
"Oh, god damn it, uncle Rick, you burned the shit out of these.
I hate you, uncle Rick!
I hate you and I'm glad your ex-wife got the house in the divorce."
Now, of course, one of the most important parts of the 4th of July is the fireworks.
And the man in charge of fireworks every year when I was a kid
was a guy named Bob that lived down the street.
Now, I didn't know a whole lot about Bob,
all I knew was he was like the first grown man I've ever seen with a ponytail.
And the only time I ever talked to him
was one night when me and my friend Michael walked past his house
and he was like, "Hey, hey you, kids!
You guys wanna see the Moon?"
"Uh... See the Moon...
It's right there in the sky!"
"No, I mean, like, through a telescope."
"I got one in my backyard, do you guys wanna see the moon?
Come on, let's go see the fucking moon!"
Now, normally, if you went into the backyard
of a man named Bob with a ponytail,
your ass would end up on a fucking milk cartoon a week later.
But thankfully, this Bob was alright.
He was one of the good ones!
All he cared about was seeing the fucking Moon through a telescope
and by golly that's what we did.
Anyways, what am I talking about...
Oh yeah, Bob and his fireworks!
So anyways, every 4th of July Bob would have a shit ton of fireworks.
And we're not talking little snakes and sparklers here,
we're talking some illegal-ass fucking...
Chinese-writing-on-the-side big-ass fireworks!
We're talking shit that was named after fucking AC/DC songs.
They'd be called like T.N.T.
and Thunder Struck, or fucking...
It's A Long Way To The Top If Ya Wanna Rock And Roll!
Alright, maybe not that one, but that is a good fucking song, I don't care.
So every year Bob would line all these fireworks up,
and for like 35 minutes or so
the sky above our neighborhood looked like the fucking apocalypse!
"Holy smokes, this is intense!"
I mean, we're talking about a grown man with a fucking ponytail, alright?
He's probably got a fucking PhD in fireworks, he knows what he's doing.
Now, you'd think, that... Well, us being small children,
we wouldn't be allowed anywhere near these fireworks.
But then you gotta remember that we're being supervised by a bunch of drunk dads.
And let me tell you a secret,
it's a lot like not being supervised at all.
Hell, it seemed like the drunker that they got,
the more dangerous shit we were allowed to do!
"So then I said to the guy-- Oh, what the hell, we're out of beer already?!
Hey Michael, get your ass over here!
Take my car down to the carryout and get some more beer!
And don't fuck up and get Miche Ultras again, I swear to god!
So anyways, what was I saying...
(Car crashes)
Oh yeah, that's right! So I said to the guy, 'Hey, buddy!'"
"A
"AA
"AAA
"AAAA
"AAAAA
"AAAAAA
"AAAAAAA
"AAAAAAAA
"AAAAAAAAA
"AAAAAAAAAA
"AAAAAAAAAA!
"AAAAAAAAAA!"
"... it's the 4th of July!
And if I wanna drink a 40-ounce, I'm gonna drink a fucking 40-ounce!"
Alright, so at this point in the cartoon I gotta stop
and do a little PSA and get this out of the way:
... no matter how long your ponytail may or may not be.
Alright, do you think that covered my ass?
Probably not? Oh well, fuck it!
Anyways, what I'm about to say is,
sometimes these drunk-ass dads
would let us light our own fireworks off by ourselves.
I know, it's stupid as hell,
but you gotta remember this was back in the '90s,
and nobody gave a fuck about kids back then.
And back in my day it wasn't the 4th of July in Ohio
if there wasn't a fucking fourth-grader lighting off an illegal explosive
out of a goddamn empty 40 oz of King Cobra.
It would've been like having Christmas without Rudolph.
They go hand in hand.
So we'd light these fireworks off,
and our nine-year-old asses would be completely mesmerized.
"Oh, that was bad-ass!
Can we do two at a time?!
Quick, somebody give me another 40 oz!"
"Coming right up!" (GULP-GULP-GULP!)
Yeah, what a time to be alive, that's for sure!
And if that wasn't bad enough,
well, I gotta say, unfortunately, it gets a little bit worse.
Because I haven't even brought up the goddamn Roman candles yet.
Now, for all you snakes and sparkler people out there,
that don't know what the hell a Roman candle is,
that's a fucking cardboard tube that shoots out fireballs.
It's definitely not for children,
I don't even think it's for adults,
I don't know what the fucking correct demographic is for fireball tubes.
Now, I have to be even more careful here on what I'm about to say,
there is a very good chance
that I could get canceled by the YouTube police, and...
Well, then I'd have to go fucking work at a goddamn car dealership again.
So I'm a little hesitant to say what we did with these things.
You know what, in fact,
I'm not even gonna tell you what we did with the goddamn Roman candles.
Let's just say that hypothetically...
maybe what happened was...
we grabbed a bunch of Roman candles when nobody was looking,
and then possibly we lined up side by side in the street
like we're in the fucking Civil War
and then I don't know,
maybe we shot the shit out of each other with Fireball tubes.
(Thwack!)
Look, I'm not saying that's what we did, okay!
I'm also not not saying that's what we did.
I think that's how plausible deniability works.
I don't know, I'm not a fucking lawyer.
All I'm saying is that maybe, just maybe,
on July 4th 1999
a bunch of fourth-graders
may have committed multiple counts of assault with a deadly weapon.
That's all I'm saying.
Maybe!
And that possibly
it might've looked something like this.
Now, all I gotta say,
is what kind of stupid idiots would do something so dangerous
and something so fucking irresponsible?
I don't have the faintest idea!
But I surely don't recommend it.
Fireballs are great when they're in a Super Mario video game,
not so great when you're launching them at your fucking friend
wearing a Scottie Pippen jersey.
That's bad news!
How about another PSA?
Should we do another one?
Ah, fuck it! Better safe than sorry!
You think that did it?
That definitely covered my ass now, right?
God, I hope so!
So with all that being said,
I hope you all have a very safe 4th of July,
remember that fireworks and 40 ozs don't mix,
and probably just don't screw around fireworks to begin with.
You will get hurt, I assure you!
I'm living proof... maybe, that is!
Allegedly I'm living proof.
Leave all the firework lighting to the man with a ponytail
or at the very least, like, a fucking shirtless guy with a mullet.
Happy Fourth of July everybody, the end.
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