What is the gene, I wonder
that makes you beg your cousin, who lives in a state where they sell the GOOD fireworks, to bring you as many Black Cats as you have pocket money? And what is it that makes you love to hear any explosion, from the snap of a cap to the earthshattering roar of a building demolition? Why is it that some of us cannot wait for the next fireworks show, or go out in search of the guns and ammo that makes the biggest flash and bang? At my age, my father had a good stack of explosives he kept in the junk drawer of his dresser. Just in case, doncha know. So it is most likely genetic.
And how soon will genetic manipulation let me get some more?
12 comments Og | Uncategorized
We have been known in the past to make our own rockets powered by Estes rocket engines. You can seal and launch a quarter pound of 4F black powder to a considerable height, especially with a two stage rocket.
It makes a very satifying boom.
One time we made a mistake and the upper stage had a delay before the ejection charge blew that would ignite the black powder. The rocket was nearly back to the ground when it exploded – directly over a house occupied by a woman who had lived in London during WW2. We got to talk to the police that day.
I suspect it may have something to do with the Y chromosome…..
No, because girls like it too.
But I also want a trebuchet for my back yard, so maybe I’m not most women.
I do understand, though.
Jenny
who lives in a state that only sells poopy fireworks
Indeed! I know plenty ladies of the female persuasion that love a good splodion.
Titan, we used to make our own rockets like that, too. Dad had a whole bunch of black powder some Navy friend had given him. No idea where the Navy friend “liberated” the powder…but it sure made better rockets than that cheap Chinese junk people buy nowadays.
Wish I still had some of that powder.
Modern firecrackers don’t have the oomph the older ones do.
I sometimes retell, over at the Fungus, the tale of one year when my dad gave my brother and I some Black Cats, and three of them together boosted an aluminum cup some 15 feet in the air.
You can’t even tip over a pop can with today’s firecrackers. *sigh*
If you have some old black powder, make your own.
That is much more fun than store bought.
Made some real doozies as a young pyro.
Love be some boom, I do.
Dad was an instructor at the Demolition and Mine Warfare School, Ft. Belvoir. When I was 7 or 8 Dad took me out to the range and let me PUSH THE RED BUTTON!! To say that has left a deep and lasting impression is putting it mildly.
Finely ground sulphur and charcoal from the chemistry set, salt peter from the pharmacy, a 1″ galv pipe and a 12 year old’s judgment and that playground structure didn’t stand a chance. I’m told.
Jenny: My tongue was firmly in cheek when I wrote that. Besides, my wife likes fireworks. To clarify, my wife likes watching fireworks displays. I suspect Og is more likely to enjoy blowing stuff up with fireworks.
I live in NJ, where you can’t buy fireworks at all. Lots of NJ folks go to PA to buy them (where apparently out-of-state folks can buy better stuff than PA residents can). NJ state police are notorious for pulling over cars on one road that crosses the border where there’s a BIG fireworks store that caters mostly to NJ residents.
Gas welding rig + plastic trash bags + two bored boys = acetylene balloons.
“Fire in the ho….uh, sky!”
Black Cats rock. Dixie Whistlers are better. When you shoot them at someone, they can hear them incoming, but don’t know where from exactly. And the plastic cap on the tip leaves a nice welt on a person’s ass when it hits.
Hey, I grew up in the country. Bottle rocket wars were an annual event. I’m amazed I have all my fingers.