CarrollBlog 1.6

After New Year's Eve there's always some lone wolf shooting off the last of their fireworks. Four days later you're walking down the street and suddenly there's a BAM! or that long whistle of a rocket going off. I always feel vaguely sorry for these late launchers. I picture a man, a young man (never a woman--that's a compliment, ladies) with nothing to do and a few firecrackers, stragglers, left over from the festivities. He's bored and those red devils on his dresser are just going to...