A couple of people were having a heated discussion as a wandered by them yesterday.

Politics? Religion? The Supreme Court ruling on guns? The high price of gas?

Nothing so trivial, I regret to report.

No, they were arguing about the merits of Sunday night's fireworks display at Kingston's annual "It's Not Quite the Fourth of July But We're Going to Celebrate It Anyway" party on the Strand.

I'm not sure if this is the kind of verbal volleying that goes on elsewhere, but around these parts, the quality of a fireworks show, you'll excuse the expression, sets people off.

For years it was the annual big bang in Saugerties that dominated next-day critiques. Recently, in my experience, Kingston's rockets have ratcheted up the rhetoric.

I'm on record in an earlier blog as not being a fan of fireworks. It dates back to childhood when the weekly boomers off the Far Rockaway boardwalk competed for my attention with carnival games and Jerry's knishes. But that's another story.

I guess there's no harm in folks feeling so strongly about fireworks that they have to weigh in on the previous night's show the way a movie reviewer assesses a flick.

It all seems terribly unimportant to me. But, as Dennis Miller would say, I could be wrong.