Further Proof That America (And YouTube) Rocks!

I first discovered this kid’s YouTube channel, Pruane2Forever, via the always hilarious site, FilmDrunk.

Often attacked, but never backing down, Pruane2Forever gives his insights and opinions on pop culture and the world around us.  Occasionally, he even makes a film himself.

On this Fourth of July, as I sit in my living room listening to what I hope is fireworks, but actually believe is gunfire (because it happened once, and it sounded like a gun… yay Detroit!), let’s celebrate the awesomeness this country.  It’s a place where a kid from Canada can astutely comment on one of the most famous rappers in the world, and ultimately get to meet him.  The first half of the vid is their shout-out, and the second half is his original post.

America… FUCK YEAH!

Uncle Sean’s Story Time… Blaze Of Glory

Gather ’round, gather ’round, kiddies… it’s time for another one of Uncle Sean’s drunk stories… this time it’s about what makes this country so great…  especially Detroit…

Independence Day (the holiday, not the movie) is a time for celebrating our right to blow things up and be American!  One particular Fourth of July, we showed our dedication the best way we could… by buying illegal fireworks from Ohio.

Now, you youngsters might be wondering, “Isn’t that illegal to buy things that are illegal, Uncle Sean?”

And that’s my point – it’s American to do just that very thing!

As we sat on my front porch which is on a main road in Detroit, cars drove by while mortars and missiles and fountains rained down colored flames.  No one paid a mind, and a great time was had by all… especially because we had a couple of 24 packs inside that dwindled down faster than a sparkler.

SIDENOTE: I used to have three lawn chairs.  They were the old aluminum frame ones with cross-hatched plastic strips.  They were pretty crappy, but still comfortable.  One by one they were eventually stolen off my porch, but on this day I still had all three.  Viva America!

One of my friends slash your uncles either didn’t know how to sit in these chairs, or he was the straw that broke the camels back, so to speak, but the cross-hatching gave way under his weight and he fell and bent the frame.  We all had a good laugh (he may not have), and I pushed it further by tossing it over the bushes onto my front lawn as the show continued, courtesy of Uncle Rich.

Some neighborhood kids came down to see if they could buy some fireworks off us.  We weren’t selling, so they stole some.  Viva America!

Your Uncle Jay and Uncle Rob decided to pretend they were in G.I. Joe, so they each grabbed a Roman candle and had a battle in the front yard, roadway, and across the street shooting at each other.  I suggested that Jay use the downed chair as a shield (Rob was the one who broke it).  Viva America!

SIDENOTE: The people across the street from me were evicted.  A big dumpster full of their belongings was parked out front.  There were boxes, furniture, mattresses.  You’ll need to know about this later.

After the battle used up all the ammo, I thought it would be funny to suggest that Uncle Rob throw a mortar into the dumpster to see what would happen.  As if he was in Mission Impossible, he scurried to the trash heaps steel base.  With his back pressed to it, he lit the firework and chucked it in.  He ran back across the street to us.  And we waited.  And we waited.  No flurry of sparks.  No explosion.  We deduced that it must have need its launch tube.

As the supply of fireworks winded down (the beverage supply was getting low too), your Aunt Sue readied to put the last mortar into the launch tube.  She stood over it as she prepared to light it.  This was her first for the night.  We shouted at her to stop… pointed out how dangerous that was.  On cue, a tiny flame flickered out of the dumpster.

Everyone leaped into action.  Sue and Rob scrambled to pick up all the debris littering the front yard.  Rich, Jay, and I hurried inside to grab bowls to fill with water to put the fire out.  From my kitchen, through the front door, I could see that the flames were out of control.  Jay pulled out a colander.

“We need a hose and some trash cans,” Rich said.

Outside, we filled and carried trash can after trash can and ran across the road.  A pair of women walking down the street laughed at our efforts.  Viva America!

The fire truck eventually arrived.  I carried the last dose of water.  I nodded as they took over.  We all hid inside as they finished the job, which took quite awhile.  They even had to pull out the charred remains to make sure it was extinguished.  That’s when we realized the cases were empty.

MORAL OF THE STORY: We should have ran to the store well before the Roman candle fight.

Groundhogs, Explosions, And A Lack Of Clothes

It first occurred to me in Pennsylvania.  Punxsutawney, to be exact.  Some family and friends went there two winters ago for the 30th birthday of my sister, Becky.  (Sorry for letting the groundhog out of the bag…)
Her birthday falls on Groundhog Day, and the festivities at Gobbler’s Knob (um, yep, that’s it name) were surprisingly warm for it being so cold.  The people were nice at the Walmart we parked at and on the bus.  The grounds were cleared of fresh snow and already covered in hay which prevented soaking wet feet. 
I don’t get up at 5am for much of anything other than a flight, but I’m glad we awakened on time in order to witness this:
Catch a sparkler on your tongue!
Catch a sparkler on your tongue!

A fireworks display in the morning snow.

Normally, I’m not a big fan of the big booms on the Fourth (the mini-booms at my uncle’s house are a blast), but when they’re unexpected, they can be beautiful.  A similar feeling snuck up on me last night on Veteran’s Day.  I stayed at work a little later to avoid traffic… and read blogs.  Sometimes my wireless Internet doesn’t work at home because my neighbor turns it off, or starts fiddling with it somehow – asshole (j/k if you read this, which you probably don’t, so j/k).

On the freeway, I passed a mall presenting a full-fledged spectacular, grand finale and all (I stopped at a Best Buy – what’s wrong with me?)  I couldn’t stop smiling.  The music on the radio even seemed to mesh with the flashing and flaring chemicals (seriously, what’s wrong with me?)  It was… unexpected.

This made me realize that surprises are what it’s all about.  Like hearing Christmas music on the radio the day after Halloween.  It happens every year, but I forget that it’s going to happen and I actually enjoy it.  (Although I do grow sick of it well before Thanksgiving, and I feel sick for admitting this all – damn happy music.)

Or it’s just like going to a party where you don’t expect to meet anyone of interest (whichever path of interest you choose), and you gain an insight or catch an STD.  Regardless, it’s still a fun surprise!

In closing, it’s the same way with nudity.  If I go to the strip club, I’m paying for the fireworks and Christmas music.  But in public… on a Tuesday… in the rain – huzzah!  At a concert… when changing into another shirt – huzzah!  Or through my apartment window, into yours, across the alley.  Your lights are on.  Mine are off.  Huzzah…