Today is Thunder Over Louisville, where the Kentucky Derby Festival kicks off with a few hundred thousand people cramming into downtown Louisville to watch planes, spend stupid amounts of money, get blackout drunk, and then drive home after watching a mediocre fireworks show.

It is also 4/20, a day in which those who enjoy partaking in the devil’s lettuce, the Maui Wowie, the chronic, the sticky icky, the dirty ditchweed, or whatever catchy name we want to use for bad choices buzz bud celebrate their intoxicant of choice.

Nothing bad can happen here. Seriously, days like this are one of the reasons I truly believe most cops aren’t paid enough.

I’ve been to Thunder a few times, and while it’s fun if you’re there with family and friends, especially with little kids who like fireworks, I’m over it.

Nobody who grew up next to Minot Air Force Base is impressed with this air show (Seriously, once you’ve watch a pair of B-52’s flow over low enough they have to worry about bayonets, a single fighter jet flying a few thousand feet up just doesn’t cut it.) or has actually seen actual explosives used with wild abandon for an actual purpose thinks that paying $20 for a bottle of bottled ‘water’, getting a sunburn that is spoken of in hushed tones during family cookouts, and watching a wave of powder smoke laced with heavy metals waft over the Ohio River is a good use of your day.

Two weeks from now, a group of horses who live better than 90% of the human species will run for a couple of minutes in front of a large crowd of drunk people. Between then and now, Louisville will come to a screeching halt as every drooling yokel in the county uses Derby as an excuse to not do anything of use to anyone.

I’m going to bed. Wake me up with Derby ends.