I love the way summer heat and handheld explosives eke out the wild side of most Amuricans in the beginning of July.  I think it’s an innate response to all the social repression and politeness that has engulfed civilization.  Granted, the thrill of fireworks has been watered down a bit since I was a kid but there’s still something to be said for simply enjoying explosions.  I think most people my age can fondly recall the year someone’s dad set fire to the yard while under the influence of child-like enthusiasm and beer.

This year, I spent most of the Fourth hanging out at home.  My events calendar convinced me that the real action was on Saturday this year.  I was invited to see a large group of upstanding citizens shake their groove thangs during the Big Bad Mamajamma No Excuses Dance Party over in Crosstown.  I’m not much of a dancer but there is one specific genre of music I find irresistible – 90s disco.  So pretty much from the moment I walked in, I was infected with the beats.  Continue reading Cinco de Julio →