THE SHORTER WEIRDER WEEK

It actually isn't. Short, that is. Weird yes. Many people will actually be working longer hours, because herds of crazed elephants shall circle the shopping malls of America, baying for blood and howling at the moon, for close on eighty hours starting at six in the evening on Thursday.
It is the annual mating frenzy of the mutants.
Black Friday.

Oh yeah, they're supposed to also cook stuff before doing that. Ham, turkey, pumpkins, and pizza.

That last is to pacify the men they leave behind, alone and freezing in front of the teevee.


BE READY TO TRAMPLE LITTLE CHILDREN AND PUPPIES!


As you may have noticed, I am not fully vested in all this.

Not the way we currently play the holiday.

All of you are crazy.

It's like many of you are on drugs.
If that's what tryptophan does to you, we ought to ban the substance. Keep it away from children and the lower classes.
Therapeutic, oh my aunt!



You've all become cannibals, savage tattooed cannibals, and your ridiculous deaths and hospitalizations because of stampedes will be briefly celebrated in news reports, before your kinfolk forget all about you in the saccharine greed orgy of the next four weeks.

Months from now, they'll wake up and wonder "say, what happened to vicious old whats-her-name? Didn't she used to wrestle other women for shoes?"

Then they'll take the last of the left-over turkey out of the refrigerator and, gravidly masticating, give themselves food-poisoning while watching reality teevee.


I firmly intend to eat cake at that time.
Cake is such a happy word.
Unlike turkey.




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