Black Friday

I don’t care what time of year it is, when I’m paying $5 for a cup of coffee, I want what I want and I want it however I ask for it. Do not raise your eyebrows at me little Miss Barista, when I politely tell you that I would like a venti, non-fat, no foam, almond, gingerbread latte, with an extra shot. This is America and I’m perversely self-entitled. It’s my prerogative. Much like my un-American boycott of Black Friday.

Clarification: Said boycott actually has less to do with the long reaching, economic predictor holiday arm than it does with an early life discovery that the bars are open and the bartenders are bored. Holiday spending and gift-giving probably does induce pre- and post-seasonal depression. I say it’s kinder to keep that overindulgence to yourself. It’s a different kind of holiday giving.

I think the whole Black Friday tradition of beating the hell out of people for 24 to 72 hours in an effort to procure bargains completely defies logic. What sane individual willingly leaves their home in a state of continued post-Thanksgiving lethargy, to get into a moving vehicle, negotiate traffic, circle endlessly in search of up front parking (because we don’t want to burn off any excess calories by parking at a distance from the destination), elbow mannerless other shoppers out of the way, and wait on endless lines all for the possibility of saving a few dollars, only to return home exhausted and further financially burdened?

NEWSFLASH: Most of these deals are also available online. I haven’t paid for shipping on anything in years. There’s a code for that…

I learned a long time ago that the whole of holiday shopping is something best done in the seclusion of my home office with a toddy. It’s been and will remain a perfect arrangement and my own personal holiday tradition.

If it’s the “spirit of the season” that forces you out of the house, I have an idea. Remember that bartender? Take your fancy phone with its fancy applications and web access and park yourself on a stool in front of him… or her. Now you not only have the comfort of a chair and a cocktail, you also have a shopping mate. Believe me when I say, some of my best, and most unusual, gift ideas have come from bartenders. Not only do they know stuff, they know people. They’re a wealth of information, from who hates what newest electronic gadget and why; to all the reasons you might reconsider purchasing that diamond solitaire based on last weekend’s shenanigans.

Disclaimer: If you have reason to believe that I know you were planning that diamond purchase and are now wondering what I know that you don’t – it purely coincidental. I don’t know anything about anyone. Move along, People. There’s no show here.

OK. That’s all I have on this. Drink and shop responsibly.

Ho! Ho! Hos!

I don’t know if anyone remembers this time last year (no, not due to alcohol consumption) when some “mother-like” group of fanatics pitched a fit over the term “ho, ho, ho”; taking us down a path that this wasn’t a jocular hee-haw but rather a mating call from Santa Claus for all the trashy girls to come pull his sleigh. Here were my thoughts on it. Seems nothing has changed.

Inasmuch as I'm bothered by the idea that anyone would consider "ho, ho, ho" offensive - "gangsta rap" instead of "kid lit" – to the point whereby Mall Santas are no longer allowed to use the longstanding and customary laugh of Jolly Saint Nick - I'm even more bothered by the pen to paper outdoor voice used to remind all of us that we're becoming a society so ridiculously caught up in not offending anyone (belying our true feelings) that we're offending everyone. We don't speak of this in polite company, of course.

Big talk for so little action really…When was the last time that, as a global power or as individuals, we were even brave enough to look the truth of our authentic beliefs in the eye. Oh, the horror!

I can't speak for anyone else's truth, but I know this truth about myself: no one has a right to be angry over hearsay. If you weren't there - if you did not actually hear Imus because you've honestly never listened to talk radio beyond traffic or weather – then bugger off. He's a comic. Now we're censoring laughter (refer to "ho, ho, ho)?

As for the “Family or “Holiday Tree”, we might as well throw in the menorah, red string, ribbons, bows, a bobbing dashboard figurine of the Mother Mary, and a burning bush for good measure. It's a Christmas tree. It is what it is, as it has always been. You can throw a blanket over it but it's still dropping pine needles all over the rug.

All of this political correctness isn’t creating equality. It’s merely a veiled precursor to further segregation. Why do we feel compelled to hide our truths? Are we afraid someone won't like us? Will our personal truths find us shunned, perhaps wearing various scarlet letters on our pinafores? We’re already in so much Big Brother trouble, why not go down saying what we think?

I think Santa should have all the Ho’s he wants. In fact, I think maybe I’ll mail him a couple of addresses! Only 21 days til Christmas, People!