In the few days remaining before Thanksgiving, all talk naturally turns to plans for the holiday. Many people last year and for this one have more limited plans, because of the pandemic. No extravaganza with hundreds of family members, followed by stuffed male stupor in front of the television and all the women of the family, from the two month old noisy one to great grandma on crutches, descending upon the local shopping mall, like a flcok of piranhas, and stripping it bare, leaving a few shell-shocked security guards limply stumbling about wondering what the heck just happened were those the vikings?
It is traditional after the turkey has been eaten and is still being digested to have pitched battles in retail areas. Somehow, clobbering a fellow American for the last electronic device makes consuming dry stringy gobble-gobbles worth while.
The first dulcet strains of 'Little Drummer Boy' are cleansing.
Seeing as I grew up before video games were invented and have not celebrated Thanksgiving in a very long time, the entire phenomenon means little to me. But as I understand it, that X box symbolizes the one true cross for you people, and the entire celebratory cycle isn't completed until sanctified teams battle each other at the bowl of roses in Pasadena on New Years Day, heralding the rebirth of normalcy.
From a safe distance, I admire the fervor of the faithful.
Your pilgrimage to Macys is appreciated.
May the best man win.
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THE TURKEYS
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