As I briefly consider the myriad examples of human stupidity that I have witnessed over the course of my life, I am hardpressed to top the collective brainlessness exhibited by some neighbors this afternoon. You see, not only were these amateur pyrotechnicians engaged in feats of half-witted recklessness involving the aiming of combustible missiles at each other, but these simpletons used their garage as the staging ground for the fireworks battles.
Yes, the garage: that building that houses such incendiary supplies as cans of gasoline, paint, and charcoal lighter.
When I heard the initial bursts of firecrackers and bottle rockets, I ushered my dogs in the house lest they be hit by a stray explosive device, or in case they freaked out and escaped the yard in their fright. As I looked across the street, though, I saw a 20-foot-high plume of gray smoke, and it was only after it cleared that I realized it was coming from inside the garage.
Now, I am not immune to moments of dubious reasoning - and admitedly as a young teen I parlayed some paper route earnings into fireworks - but I boldly declare that lighting fireworks in the garage is an idea that never popped into my head before today.
Just like the way that such ill-conceived schemes as laying down on the freeway or jumping into a cage with a lion never occurred to me.
Fortunately, there is about 50 yards of space between the garage these clowns might engulf in flames and my house. I suspect that any fires that result would not leap this distance, especially with the flash flood conditions in Northwest Ohio today, but do not be surprised if these mental defectives make the news.
In a bad, bad way.