Fireworks are our Kalashnikov rifles: gunpowder fired skywards in a gratuitous expression of victory. Yet it is gratifying how otherwise egalitarianally absent such display is of symbolism. Even the hues, which would be expected to be starkly repeated reds, whites, and blues, are instead these and greens, golds, and purples mingled without any pattern or purpose. The only overt symbolism is an occasional smiley-face. There is no analysis, just the simple contented expressions of ooh and aah. Such is victory.