Here Are Some Good Names for Fireworks, In My Opinion

This past weekend, I found myself across state lines, looking at fireworks.

The purchase of consumer-grade pyrotechnics wasn't the primary reason for my interstate travel; as I briefly mentioned last week, a storm brought down a mature tree in my backyard, crushing several sections of fence. After paying a not-small sum for the removal of said tree, I wasn't about to hire someone for the part I could conceivably do–but the closest store to me that had the style of fence pickets I needed in stock was across the river from Louisville in Clarksville, Indiana.

(Sing it with me: save big money at Menaaaaards...)

We loaded the kids into the van, headed across the bridge, and no sooner had our wheels touched Hoosier soil than my son piped up from the backseat:

"Can we get fireworks while we're here?"

The boy turns 11 this weekend, and like all young men of that age, his internal thought processes these days center mostly on video games, Funyuns, and explosions. He has also quickly internalized one of the fundamentals of middle American life, which is that crossing state lines is a great time to buy fireworks.

Well, I might have three decades of aging on him, but far fewer than that in maturity. I am also easily suggestible, so after loading the van with fence-lumber and a lunch stop at Popeyes, off we went a-fireworkin'. I dutifully signed a waiver the door attesting that I would not use any of my purchases to commit acts of terrorism, offered a meek "we're not getting anything BIG" protest to the kids, then followed them into the aisles to peruse the various weapons of mass celebration. Of course, I had to look at the big stuff, and I couldn't help but delight in some of the names assigned to multi-hundred-dollar explosibles.

The Mother Lode

License To Thrill

Another One Lights The Dusk

Tunguska Blast

They were all evocative in their own right, and while many sounded like the titles to late-stage AC/DC albums, a few bucked that trend in unusual ways, like my personal favorite: GRAND JURY.

I don't quite know what a $250 arrangement of mortar shells has to do with grand juries, the legal body of citizens empaneled to protect their peers against arbitrary and oppressive prosecution... and yet, I also understand perfectly on the deeper, spiritual, 11-year-old level. Yes. Of course. GRAND JURY. Standing in front of this display, I realized that firework names don't have to make literal sense; they simply have to conjure an emotional response.

I also realized that I very much want the job of naming fireworks, and so I will now humbly submit some samples of my own work, in the hopes that Cornelius J. Phantomfireworks might see them and hire me away from my modest life of architecture and blogging.

For your consideration:

KNOCKOUT STAGE

THE EXCLUSION ZONE

LEVERAGED BUYOUT

THE WARRIN' COURT

EIGHT MILLION BEES

MUSSEL CONFUSION

(This one would have a cartoon of an anthropomorphic mussel holding a bazooka.)

THE UNCLE SEPARATOR

STOVE TOUCHER

MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL AND THEN 3:17AM AT THE URGENT CARE

THE SEA PEOPLES

I have listened to a lot of the Fall of Civilizations podcast, and more than one civilization's collapse is directly or indirectly attributed to the Sea Peoples, who I would style on the box art as an angrier version of the characters you'd see on a package of Sea Monkeys.

GO AHEAD, THEN, MARTY, CALL THE COPS. IT'S THE FOURTH OF JULY, FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD

THE CRASH AT CRUSH

Again, I'm all about the history lessons. We're selling edutainment!

YES, CHEF. WAIT–NO, CHEF. NO! NO!! CHEF!!!

THE CHEF'S FUNERAL

NINE MILLION BEES

CONCERNING THE UFO SIGHTING NEAR HIGHLAND, ILLINOIS

This is just the title of the first track on Sufjan Stevens' seminal 2003 concept album Illinois, and while you might not think there to be a great crossover between fans of the esoteric indie songsmith and recreational explosives, I can tell you from personal experience that there is at least one person who would absolutely buy a firework named this, because it is I.

RUNAWAY WIENERMOBILE

THIS ONE'S PROBABLY TOO MUCH FOR YOU. YEAH, YOU. MAYBE YOU SHOULD JUST BUY SOME SPARKLERS INSTEAD, PAL.

THE KENTUCKY MEAT SHOWER

If you're not fully up for the nation's semiquincentennial, you can at least celebrate a notable sesquicentennial this year.

MORE BEES THAN YOU CAN EVEN IMAGINE. LEGALLY I'M NOT ALLOWED TO TELL YOU HOW MANY BEES. (IT'S A LOT, THOUGH.)

WHAT THE HELL, KEVIN

-fin-

I look forward to your response, fireworks tycoons.

Friends, it's Friday again at The Action Cookbook Newsletter.

Wait, no it's not. It's Thursday night!

Yeah, I'm sending this out twelve hours early, because I know that many of you have already checked out for the holiday weekend or will be doing so very shortly.

Also, I want to sleep in tomorrow.

That doesn't mean I don't have a loaded slate today–in fact, I feel terrific about today's offerings, which include one of the best pasta salads I've made in ages, a summer cocktail treat for a very particular kind of person, music for a different particular kind of person, an engrossing new novel, pets, and more!

The sky's a-light with the guitar bite, and for those about to rock? I salute you.

In which I commit possible regional heresies in the pursuit of flavor, Pasta Salad Edition