In preparation for our nation’s birthday, we might need a refresher course on what possibly might be the most exciting part of the summer holiday – fireworks.
In the 2001 comedy “Joe Dirt,” David Spade’s blue-collar character, Joe, takes audiences on a cross-country adventure in search of his parents.
In one scene, Joe stops at a roadside fireworks stand in New Mexico and engages in some tongue-twisting dialogue about his favorite Fourth of July pyrotechnics with an American Indian named Kicking Wing who happens to be running the stand.
Joe Dirt: Well, I see you got them snakes ‘n’ sparklers, but where’s the good stuff, man?
Kicking Wing: Good stuff? This is the good stuff, snakes and sparklers.
Joe Dirt: Are you nuts, dude? You need stuff that explodes, go boom.
Kicking Wing: Why is that good?
Joe Dirt: Well, why’s a tree good? Why’s a sunset good? Why are boobs good? Man, firecrackers, you stick ’em in mail boxes, you drop ’em in toilets. … So you’re gonna tell me that you don’t have no black cats, no roman candles, or screaming mimis?
Kicking Wing: No.
Joe Dirt: Oh, come on, man. You got no lady fingers, fuzz buttles, snicker bombs, church burners, finger blasters, gut busters, zippity do-dahs, or crap flappers?
Kicking Wing: No, I don’t.
Joe Dirt: You’re gonna stand there, owning a fireworks stand, and tell me you don’t have no whistling bungholes, no spleen spliters, whisker biscuits, honkey lighters, hoosker dos, hoosker dont’s, cherry bombs, nipsy daisers – with or without the scooter stick – or one single whistling kitty chaser?
Kicking Wing: No.
Joe Dirt: Why?
Kicking Wing: Because snakes and sparklers are the only ones I like.
Joe Dirt: Well, that might be your problem. It’s not what you like – it’s the consumer.