COLUMN: Popeye Arm

I should have known that the moment I wrote a column about a disdain for several weeks of fireworks in a row that I would pay for it in some sort of karmic retribution for constantly being grumpy about everything.

This wonderful gem of a story starts the day after the 4th of July and a time I feel there should be no fireworks unless they are a special show at a baseball stadium somewhere in urban America. By July 5th, my two pets were sick and tired of being sick and tired of fireworks. The poor things were finding hiding spots within their hiding spots and it made me sad to try and find...