ice-cream and bait: v.a. beach dregs

the above title is from one of my favourite signs, spied somewhere in pennsylvania while i was on tour years ago (my other favourite 4 words should never be repeated, so i'm refraining).
it's funny, but when i thought about it, i realised it makes sense; ice-cream and bait both need refrigeration, right? but i haven't found the logic in the sign i saw repeatedly while driving from d.c. to v.a. beach last month. on all manner of signage, from chicken-scratch to the professionally manufactured, i saw it proclaimed over+over:
"fireworks, ham + peanuts".
alright, americans. explain this one to me.
also remembered my other favourite moment @ the v.a. beach dq, immediately after flirting with the underaged bulgarian summer help- i collected my chocolate extreme just in time to catch the last word on a family argument- a pretty ordinary-looking white family: harried-looking, over-dyed, middle-aged mom with dorky, gangly, pimpled teenage son and almost-grown daughter attempting (and failing) to be cute in spite of the family- i finished flirting just in time to hear the daughter all but stamp her foot on the gravel as she choked on her tears and wailed, "i'll never try to plan anything like this again!"
it felt like watching a soap opera, and i wished that she'd add, just for my personal amusement, "i hate you! all of you!" and storm off. instead, they all just stood there looking at each other, like, "what now?"- wonder about the rest of their weekend...
walk good.