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In a rare fit of passive ennui last night, I watched television. After animated sitcoms and the occasional documentary, the TV I enjoy most is advertisement. I often feel the need to deride the voiceovers, snicker at the so-called actors, in the name of Resistance. One commercial message in particular caught my attention (for more than 2 minutes): the Independence Day, 2000 fireworks display on the Hudson River. "The Spectacle of a Lifetime", or some such hyperbole. Since my childhood, I have resigned myself to the notion that the Bicentennial display was the spectacle of my lifetime, and all I really remember of it was the lopside-head man. Apparently, I was wrong; TV says the best is yet to come.
My first M-80 is etched more clearly in my memory than any officially-sanctioned pyrotechnics. I was more intimately bound up with that privately purchased explosive than all the rockets at the city stadium. I suspect and hope the real "spectacle of a lifetime" is an intimate experience, rather than a public circus.

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