The Curmudgeon would like to take the opportunity, on this day of public thanks, to thank those of you who come to this space on occasion. He realizes there are many places to go for entertainment like this and appreciates that you make this one of your stops. He knows he occasionally wanders off in directions that make you question where he’s going and if it’s in search of his lost marbles, but he wants you to know how grateful he is for your visits.
Writing can sometimes feel like that proverbial tree falling in the forest that we all learned about in sixth grade: if you write and no one ever reads it, did you really write at all? Thanks to you, The Curmudgeon is writing.
The Curmudgeon also would like to make a request: please don’t go Christmas shopping today. Across the country, working people who barely make more than minimum wage – waiters and busboys, sales clerks and cashiers, parking attendants and security staff and customer service representatives and more – and being forced, at the threat of loss of their jobs, to spend this special day apart from their families, where they belong, because the Snidely Whiplashes of the world, who earn seven figures and who certainly will be spending the day with their own families, think nothing of imposing their will on people who lack the power to say “no” in a silly quest to make a few extra dollars.
Everything you might buy on Thanksgiving day will still be there tomorrow, and by keeping your credit card in your pocket today, you’ll be telling these selfish executives and business owners to mend their ways using the only language people like that understand: the power of the purse.
And one more thing: take it easy on the sweet potatoes. The leftovers will taste just as good tomorrow.