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Matt Hoover with Keystone's Adventure Point Tubing Hill, is in summer uniform at the tubing hill las weekend, having a blast pushing and spinning folks down the hill he helped create. Snow's melting fast, but the hill should be open through the weekend. Call (970) 496-4FUN for the skinny — and tell Matt Summit Up sent ya!
Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world's only daily column that's wondering about fireworks. We love watching ‘em, and we're sure looking forward to this year's pyrotechnics, courtesy of the local towns. But we love setting them off ourselves even more, and we really don't understand the hard-line laws prevalent in some states (like our own great state of Colorado).
Sheesh! You can ride around on a motorcycle without a brain bucket, but you can't launch a little skyrocket? What's up with that?
Why back in the day, when we were young whippersnappers, we set off all kinds of gnarly explosives. We didn't blind ourselves, we still have all our fingers and toes and we attribute our hearing loss to sitting in the front row at a Grand Funk Railroad concert in our early teen years — not to the profusion of loud explosions we triggered each year on the Fourth of July and New Year's Eve.
We had whistlers, which were little yellow and purple thingies, about the size of a half-pencil. We'd light ‘em, throw ‘em in the air and watch them whizz around for a few seconds, trailing sparks and emitting a satisfying, sizzling whine. We had strings and strings of ladyfingers that would just jump around on the sidewalk and fizz and pop. And yes, we actually did hold those little babies in our fingers, just to see what if would feel like. And the good, profit-oriented people in the local convenience store even sold us sky- and bottle-rockets, the kind with a rocket-looking tip attached to a long stick. To our knowledge, nobody was ever injured, we didn't start any fires.
Our parents — bless ‘em — were totally on board with this activity, and showed us how to light the fuse and scoot away quickly, and all the other rules that we religiously followed. They didn't have to use scare tactics. Instead they just told us, “This is the way it's done.” And we always cleaned up afterwards, making sure to pick up the blown up bits and pieces.
So, we certainly don't advocate going back to those lawless days of yore, but we really think the whole nanny state thing has gone way to far in a lot of areas, fireworks included. We get the whole fire danger thing, and we understand that we don't want fireworks remnants littering our parks and beaches. But we will say this: There are safe places and ways to set off a few firecrackers, and by gum, it should be legal. We're even thinking about trying pass a constitutional amendment that would guarantee our right to celebrate Independence Day the way it should be celebrated. It's right near the top of our list, just after finishing the Great American Novel and flossing our teeth.
We're sure we'll get all kinds of angry letters from the Society to Prevent People from Having Fun, but you know what? We don't care. It's Independence Day, and we're celebrating our freedom of speech.
And here's one for you. Our news editor, just a few cubbies over, just told us that half-pint Korean dictator, what's his name, is planning on launching a missile in the direction of Hawaii sometime this weekend to help us with the Independence Day festivities. Talk about skyrockets. Well we have two words for Kim Jong-il: Surgical strike.
Actually, we have more than two words. We have never, in all our time, seen anyone with worse hair. Maybe that's what makes him so ornery. Maybe we could smother him with love, offer him a full Vidal Sasson makeover. We're pretty sure he'd be so smitten with his new look he'd forget all about this missile nonsense. Instead, he could start a new career, perhaps as host of a pan-Asian version of American Idol, and get his ya-yas out that way.
So we know the Fourth is the big day, but in case you want need and excuse to unfold your lawn chair and crack open a tall boy a bit early, here's the scoop: On July 3 in 1090, the German emperor beat Earl Egbert II at the battle of Hagenoorde. We say that's a fine reason to quaff a couple of Paulaners, but if that doesn't work for you, you could reach back even further in history and toast Flavius Julius Crispus, who defeated Emporer Licinius in the battle of Adrianopolis back in 323 AD. We always fete this occasion by hitching a few stallions to our chariot and doing a few laps around the colosseum.
We out, eating cupcakes!
Sheesh! You can ride around on a motorcycle without a brain bucket, but you can't launch a little skyrocket? What's up with that?
Why back in the day, when we were young whippersnappers, we set off all kinds of gnarly explosives. We didn't blind ourselves, we still have all our fingers and toes and we attribute our hearing loss to sitting in the front row at a Grand Funk Railroad concert in our early teen years — not to the profusion of loud explosions we triggered each year on the Fourth of July and New Year's Eve.
We had whistlers, which were little yellow and purple thingies, about the size of a half-pencil. We'd light ‘em, throw ‘em in the air and watch them whizz around for a few seconds, trailing sparks and emitting a satisfying, sizzling whine. We had strings and strings of ladyfingers that would just jump around on the sidewalk and fizz and pop. And yes, we actually did hold those little babies in our fingers, just to see what if would feel like. And the good, profit-oriented people in the local convenience store even sold us sky- and bottle-rockets, the kind with a rocket-looking tip attached to a long stick. To our knowledge, nobody was ever injured, we didn't start any fires.
Our parents — bless ‘em — were totally on board with this activity, and showed us how to light the fuse and scoot away quickly, and all the other rules that we religiously followed. They didn't have to use scare tactics. Instead they just told us, “This is the way it's done.” And we always cleaned up afterwards, making sure to pick up the blown up bits and pieces.
So, we certainly don't advocate going back to those lawless days of yore, but we really think the whole nanny state thing has gone way to far in a lot of areas, fireworks included. We get the whole fire danger thing, and we understand that we don't want fireworks remnants littering our parks and beaches. But we will say this: There are safe places and ways to set off a few firecrackers, and by gum, it should be legal. We're even thinking about trying pass a constitutional amendment that would guarantee our right to celebrate Independence Day the way it should be celebrated. It's right near the top of our list, just after finishing the Great American Novel and flossing our teeth.
We're sure we'll get all kinds of angry letters from the Society to Prevent People from Having Fun, but you know what? We don't care. It's Independence Day, and we're celebrating our freedom of speech.
And here's one for you. Our news editor, just a few cubbies over, just told us that half-pint Korean dictator, what's his name, is planning on launching a missile in the direction of Hawaii sometime this weekend to help us with the Independence Day festivities. Talk about skyrockets. Well we have two words for Kim Jong-il: Surgical strike.
Actually, we have more than two words. We have never, in all our time, seen anyone with worse hair. Maybe that's what makes him so ornery. Maybe we could smother him with love, offer him a full Vidal Sasson makeover. We're pretty sure he'd be so smitten with his new look he'd forget all about this missile nonsense. Instead, he could start a new career, perhaps as host of a pan-Asian version of American Idol, and get his ya-yas out that way.
So we know the Fourth is the big day, but in case you want need and excuse to unfold your lawn chair and crack open a tall boy a bit early, here's the scoop: On July 3 in 1090, the German emperor beat Earl Egbert II at the battle of Hagenoorde. We say that's a fine reason to quaff a couple of Paulaners, but if that doesn't work for you, you could reach back even further in history and toast Flavius Julius Crispus, who defeated Emporer Licinius in the battle of Adrianopolis back in 323 AD. We always fete this occasion by hitching a few stallions to our chariot and doing a few laps around the colosseum.
We out, eating cupcakes!
