So as far as main thoroughfares go, Packard Street in Ann Arbor is no Champs Elysees, but in our humble little burg it's quite something--cutting crosstown diagonally, like Broadway, terminating into precious little Main Street. My apartment overlooks Packard, and this evening I was indoors as the sound of amateur fireworks exploded into the night sky. Invariably, each incident was followed by a fire-truck or ambulance speeding down the street: cause, meet effect. Dunderheaded self-injury, I suppose, is as good a way as any to celebrate the replacement--231 years later--of British tyranny with a Texas-by-way-of-Connecticut one. I find this particular yoke of oppression chafes less.