A reflection on the ignorant at play.
Last Tuesday evening, as I tried to immerse myself in my latest Kindle Unlimited psychological thriller, I was distracted by what sounded like gunshots reverberating throughout my neighborhood.
Naturally, it being the Fourth of July the BOOMS that jolted me out of my semi-lulled state were all manner of fireworks, clutched in the sweaty hands of abject morons who couldn’t give a damn that it was nearing midnight and the “celebration” was over. Or, it should have been.
Not to be, folks. These patriots were frenzied in their pyrotechnical plan to show the rest of us that disturbing the peace, frightening animals, and triggering vets with PTSD was, by God, their God-given right. And God damn anyone who thought otherwise, by God.
I hate those people. Normally, I’d worry about what some folks here would think about that admission, but I know I’m not alone. Regardless, I don’t give a toss because the human race is in the toilet and nowhere is that more evident than in my once-quiet Elgin neighborhood, where moronic street racers feel it’s their right to barrel down a residential side street, and mouth-breathers, who wouldn’t know a book if it was shoved up their butts shoot off firecrackers into the wee hours.
And here's the most infuriating aspect: Our police force doesn’t seem to give a damn.
How do I know this? Because I’ve called the Elgini PD on numerous occasions over the street racers and one actually told me that “We can’t go after them because that would lead to a dangerous chase.”
So, the cops can’t pursue people breaking the law here because they might have to chase them? Good to know that if I choose to put the pedal to the metal and I see flashing lights in my rearview mirror, I don’t have to stop!
But, I digress. Back to the Fourth. Elgin, like other towns across the States, had its own “celebratory” fireworks display, although I must say that I find us lacking in reasons to fete our country during these messed-up times.
Perhaps if we had one less mass shooting, one less anti-semitic action, one less black person losing their life over a traffic violation, one less individual out on the street because they couldn’t afford both food and rent, well then, maybe there’d be something to celebrate.
Many will disagree with me, certainly, but, until I can shop for food and not break into a sweat at the price of so-called “healthy” bread, pump more than fifteen dollars worth of gas into our car, or even, think about moving because the cost of that would probably wipe us out, I say “Forget the Fourth.”
Finally, last night, as I was settling into bed after an aggravating day, I plumped my pillows, and just as I opened my Kindle, a bone-shaking BOOM erupted, seemingly in our backyard.
I expect tonight will be no different.
© Sherry McGuinn, 2023. All Rights Reserved.
Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. She is currently pitching her newest screenplay, “The Month We Fell Apart,” a drama with dark, comedic overtones inspired by a true story, as well as “DEAD TIRED,” a female-driven, erotic thriller.