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There's gonna be a big party
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The best thing about Independence Day is it’s a reason fill up the cooler and head to somewhere cooler than Pooler.
But it always falls on the 4th of July and it’s hot as hell with the lid on. But, so what, we’re freeeeeeee and there’s a party going on somewhere. That is why the Flounder Creek holiday is always celebrated on the 3rd. It’s no where near as hot.
The Pig is sure to sell out of ribs and there’s not a crab anywhere in the South that’s not in danger of being eaten. Bud Lite stocks are sure to soar and Mason Waters’ band is coming to town. What’s not to like?  Flounder Creek is about to bust.
After carefully considering the whole situation, it’s a beautiful thing to live in the Land of the Free and one can pretty much wear any color wristband one likes and not get arrested for it.
For all you guys and ladies who have or who are now serving in the armed forces, thanks a million times over. If it weren’t for you we wouldn’t be able or allowed to gather in the park and watch a tremendous fireworks show, not to mention go Mason’s Band concert. I’m a big fan.
The Groove All Stars is what they call themselves but I told Mason that he should just call his band the “Masons.” They could have a secret handshake and a password and untold amount of jewelry, but he looked at me like I had something dangling from a nostril and said “no.” Why, these kids today just don’t get it.
Anchored by drummer Rick Joyce, this rhythm section kicks like a mule and pretty much defies anyone to stay in their seats.
 Anyone who hasn’t had the pleasure of hearing this band is in for a real treat thanks in part to the singing and saxaphonery (I made that word up) of one Michael Hulett. Michael sings so good sometimes girls make squeaky noises.
This makes Mason and the other guys in the band want to slap him, but he’s too big and they are afraid he would kill ‘em. Oh, I’m just joking around but it would be funny, wouldn’t it?
The Fourth of July weekend has always been especially good in Flounder Creek because people come from all over the place to grill an animal and  ride their jet ski and play wake the floating dock. Hooray.
People come from exotic places like Wainsboro and Swainsboro. I always got those two mixed up. They pack in from as far away as Reidsville and Glennville and Hinesville and every other Ville that I left out, I apologize. We love and welcome them because they bring onion money and heartland hoopla.
I’m asked this question frequently. What ya’ll do roun’ heah? To which I reply, “Other than rip a few trout lips off, not too much.” But this week, when they ask, I can say I’m going to a great party on the river front in beautiful Darien. I’m gonna eat a few crab, I’m gonna eat a few ribs, and maybe a boiled peanut or two. I’m gonna upgrade my portfolio by investing in Bud Lite Stock and I’m gonna watch the fireworks and I’m gonna be dancing to  Mason and the boys.
Did I mention I’m a big fan?
Up the road in South Carolina there is going to be a huge fireworks display going on. The governor’s crib is sure to be exploding, but that’s none of my bidness. However, you can bet your last case quarter that the state’s first lady will be hot as a $10 firecracker and sparking like a downed power line in a mud hole. The Guv will be plagiarizing Dr. King’s unforgettable speech: Free at last, free at last, now that I’ve been busted, I’m free at last...
That’s not funny. I’m just saying.
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