November 22, 2012
I’m Not Thankful For…
Here I am.
Writing my first official “holiday blurb” and I’ll tell ya… it feels pretty fucking depressing. Why? Has it really come to this? Where did I go wrong? Has this thing I’ve heard about called Karma finally reared up and given it right back to me, ten fold? Probably not, for my sake. More likely I’m just an ugly American with a drug habit and a penchant for bad dancing and self sabotage. Yeah… I’ll go with that one, karma’s for squares. Anyways, of course I realize how easy it is to hate on the holidays so I’m gonna try my damndest to steer clear of that specific negativity, but if by chance I find myself dead man floating deep in those waters I’m gonna splash about, believe that homes.
So… Thanksgiving, it’s a weird one, not exactly “Easter Weird” but weird nonetheless. Am I the only one who finds it strange that in these foul times we’re strutting around planning elaborate feasts, excited about shovel feeding ourselves while getting that glazed look in our eyes? Feasts, they’re weird enough but to have a national day dedicated to them? I don’t know. And I hear some of you saying “It’s about getting together with family and celebrating.” Fine but celebrating what? What are we celebrating? And fuck you by the way, thanks for rubbing it in. Maybe one of the reasons I don’t give a rats about Thanksgiving is because my “family” can only be described as a gross bunch of bitter out of work soap opera actors. I love Christmas though, go figure.
Shame on us, Black Friday. Really? The more I “think” about it I realize that I don’t really even want to be writing this poison. I just want to listen to “Life on Mars” over and over again. So as I get more and more bored with this bullshit “cry for help” about celebrating this nations shameful past I also am realizing how hungry I’m getting. Something deep inside me is screaming for turkey, beef and gold bullion and I feel justified. I feel as if I deserve it. I feel as if I’m starving. I need something, right now. Happy Turkey Day.
© 2017 cover my ears