I Gave, Thanks

Once again Thanksgiving has come and gone, leaving families full and tired, and turkeys breathing sighs of remorse and relief.

It's a funny holiday, this Thanksgiving, marked by parades, meals and the acceptance of men being drunk and lazy while watching the dog show football.  It's swell really.

With all of the preparation, the climax is actually anti-climatic.  Two days in the kitchen and then this huge meal, this built-up feast, is over in a heartbeat.  It reminds me of sex.  Remember sex? You spend hours on the foreplay and then two 20 minutes later you're lying on your back trying to catch your breath and wondering if everyone else is as satisfied as you- but not really caring.  Except in this scenario there are dishes to clean.

It is more than that though, and I'm not taking the obvious path of sentimental reflection and thanks here, but the road less traveled by, I'm calling Thanksgiving out.

Basically, it has morphed into nothing more than a doormat to Christmas.  It can't even get through its own day without Santa showing up.  It opens its arms and invites you in, hoping you'll notice the pecan pie on your way to the shopping mall.  It's the Canada of holidays, and America, with our excess, our bling and our Ali Lohan holiday albums, we're Christmas.  Blasphemy?  Hell yes, I didn't even know there was an Ali Lohan.

Now, don't get upset Thanksgiving, or Canada for that matter, I'm not dissing you.  You're great.  You are actually my favorite holiday that isn't Christmas (even though you kind of are). I'm just saying that you've allowed yourself to be compromised by your louder bully of a neighbor and perhaps you should stand up for yourself.

But don't get too uppity, I've got a nap to take.