STEPHEN LEWIS, Post Columnist
Posted: Sunday, October 19, 2008 8:17 am

Oh the humanity! In a shot heard ‘round the town, the giant fireworks store on Church Street burned to the ground. Now some of you may say “great, one less way for kids to get their hands on fireworks that keep me up all night and drive my dog crazy.” But to you I say look a little deeper. The loss of the giant Fireworks Supermarket may affect us more than you think.

First, have you heard the statistics about fireworks? Numerous children and adults face injury every year from fireworks. Emergency rooms are covered up in the days leading up to July 4th with these “Einsteins.” If fireworks were not available imagine the hit emergency room doctors, nurses, and workers would take in their paychecks. They rely on these idiots.

Much like the actual burning of the Fireworks Supermarket, every year fireworks start fires in houses, yards, and various other places that fire fighters must respond to. Without those fires, fire fighters wouldn’t get the training they need to stay sharp. Otherwise, we’re just paying them to lay around the station all day washing the trucks and playing fetch with the fire dog.

And what about the bottle rocket wars that break out every Fourth of July over on Academy Street? What a great way for the youngsters over there to get some exercise as they run from bottle rockets until the police show up. And then run from the police.

So, with apologies to Francis Scott Key, fire fighters, Boy Scout leaders, pyromaniacs, and anyone else who enjoys a good fire I present to you my ode to the Fireworks Supermarket. It should be sung to the tune of “The Star Spangled Banner.” Instead of placing your hand over your heart raise it slightly angled above your head as if you were holding a roman candle. Oh, and you should be facing in whichever direction China is since they are the main source of all our fireworks. God bless the Chinese.

“Oh, say can you see, by the Church Street off ramp.
What so loudly we watched, at the explosions screaming.
Whose white walls and black roof, like a pyro’s dream day camp.
O’er the flames that we saw like a star’s light beaming.
And the bottle rockets like flares, roman candles bursting without care.
No proof in the night that a building was there.
Oh, say does that giant firework sign still stand
O’er the land of scorched hair and the home of burned hands.”

Thank you and good night!