i used to entertain maudlin fantasies about self destruction and general spiritual mutilation due to an illustrious childhood spent in a cult. this annoying way of thinking was soon eliminated with the wanton use of flammable things applied to innocent inanimate objects. the real joy came when my kid bought some m-80's from school and we set some off in broad daylight on a quiet street in pasadena. then there was the defective, over volatile m-100, purchased in mexico from a toothless guy wearing a loin cloth and one shoe which when ignited on the beach at dusk (among the strolling innocent families) literally threw my mom, kid and i face down on the sand like some dorky action film where the characters narrowly escape losing limbs by hurling themselves out of the way of the blast.