A Devil's (Half) Dozen


3 weeks ago   By: Chris Redar

In the history of the recorded world, no country has ever stood taller, nor whooped more sorry asses, than the good ol' United States of AMERICA. With a rich history of slav--

Wait, with a robust tradition of xenophob--

An impeccable track record of segregating schoo--

A flawless report card in not electing Donald Tr--


Here's some fireworks to cheer us all up.




This is one of the loudest, most obnoxious things forty-five dollars can buy. With not one, not two, not three, but TWO HUNDRED little whistling bastards going off at upwards of twenty at a time, your neighbors are sure to be delighted with the tiny little red plastic shells that land on their solar cover after you make their dog shit on the bed in terror!



A classic – you nail this to a fence, and it spins around and shoots hot-ass sparks all over the place, like your car's left passenger tire that you really should get looked at, cheapskate. Changing from red to green, then usually back to red but sometimes going with a deep blue, this is sure to amaze all fans of both colors and circles.



These bad boys are what a holiday like this was made for (because they're related to war, you see). A report launches nearly a hundred feet in the air, and then releases a small green army man tied to a piece of toilet paper with approximately one-thousand strings. They usually land engulfed in flames, which is both terribly dangerous as kids love to try and catch these, and insanely METAL.



Conventionally, this is a shitty firework. It lobs dimly-lit balls of color casually into the air that don't really do anything-- it's like watching a softball game. But don't try to tell me you've never had a roman candle fight*. Or rather, do tell me that so I can call you a fucking liar to your lying face.

*Last Rites does NOT condone unsafe acts with fireworks (wuss). Please exercise extreme caution (dork) and follow all directions (pussy) when handling any fireworks.



Again, another controversial pick, as fountains do one thing and one thing only: spit upward. It's a matter of finding the biggest, tallest, widest-based monstrosity at the low-rent illegal fireworks place your uncle knows about. I've personally witnessed a fountain go for five straight minutes and reach heights of (probably) fifty feet! Once I put my hair out I've had a soft spot for these roided-out sparklers, and you should too.


2. M-80

The classic taboo firework. The Lambada of tiny munitions. The granddady of toilet shatterers. This little fucker can shoot a bucket thirty feet straight up and when it lands it looks like a peeled banana. If you and your friends are ever wandering in the woods all messed up on codeine when you're seventeen and you come across a five-gallon Home Depot pail, do NOT be without an M-80.



It's exactly what it sounds like, and it is louder and brighter than you're imagining right now. I'm pretty sure the first time one of these was detonated at the Redar family barbeque, a deer died from sheer terror. Fish in the nearby river miscarried. My grandpa explained to me, sparing no detail, the similarity of this to German chain guns when was gunnin' down them damn nazis during the Battle of the Bulge. It's the firework to end all fireworks, and a stark reminder of just how much ass my grandpa kicked for you ingrates. Rest in Peace, Francis J. Redar.