I've always hated the 4th of July. In small town America- the 4th of July is often the biggest celebration of the year. There are parades, barbeques, carnivals, fairs, rodeos, shows, fireworks, and lots of drinking and drugging. In America, it's hardly a celebration until a lotta folks get half shit-faced and fully baked. That why I dreaded it. I used to police that whole mess. Year after year. In the early 1990's after one night time rodeo, I remember two drunken cowboys shooting bottle rockets at me while I tried to direct traffic in the dark for a couple thousand rodeo spectators. I was so mad that if I thought I could have left my post and caught one of those assholes- I might have. Fortunately, for everyone concerned, I did not. On Jul 3, 2002, two young men, after a three day runner involving booze, drugs, two under-aged girls, and lots of guns- found themselves dead in a murder suicide. I pulled a 32 hour shift, with no sleep, and somehow managed to string to...