I'm not that together on yankie customs, can you enlighten me... Do you give/get presents for thanx giving? Is it a big pissup, party, festival type affair or quiet, contemplative? Do you get the day off work? Do the natives celebrate it too? Do you give thanx to god, Bush or ya mum & dad?
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Stranger: I'm not that together on yankie customs, can you enlighten me...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Good question. You've probably got an inaccurate and incomplete view of this affair from clichéd propaganda like "It's a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" . Basically what it is, is an excuse to take a day out of our busy lives and devote it entirely to that which we're most fond of: over-eating, arguing with relatives, TV viewing and sleeping. Since anymore we live spread so far and wide and avail ourselves of intermediating devices like answering machines and email, it's essential we dedicate a whole day to catch up on familial grievances old and new face-to-face. It goes like this: our already overburdened roads become jam-packed with sojourners who have all cleverly picked the same optimal timeframe in which they believed they'd 'beat the traffic'. It's more turbulent than usual in the main because of the disparity in speeds. Although there remain ever the usual dodging and weaving collection of would-be Indy 500ers, there is also a large proportion of speed-limit observers (rudeness for which would earn one a ticket on any other day of the year) plugging along in the slow lane - and middle lane, AND passing lane - because they're absolutely in no hurry to get to their destination. Plus, everyone's drinking or medicating more heavily than usual & feeling more testy besides, so things get pretty interesting. After negotiating the motorway gauntlet (and depending on the rate and amount of alcoholic/psychotropic intake), one arrives feeling tired, irritable, combative & resentful - the ideal frame of mind for sparking and nurturing conflict. Once the victuals are arrayed on the table, and the dead-bird centerpiece is presented, the real festivities begin. The chef - typically the matron figure - usually opens by apologizing and making excuses for the poor state of the bird. The required reply - as mandatory as it is fruitless - is for one or more other parties to protest that no, it is indeed the grandest, juiciest, most succulent bird that could be imagined. The debate teams continue this line a bit, leading to an opening which the chef may exploit by opining that this must mean that all the other birds in prior years must not have been very good, is that what you're saying? But a clever player doesn't fall for that one, instead misdirecting the discourse by observing that the bird remains uncarved/unserved, which naturally leads to the next subject: who shall carve it, and the best method in doing so. Once that point is sufficiently hashed over, next up is the side-serving roulette: who chooses what from the available selections, how much they take, and to whom the plate is next passed. Critical points for judging are: --Why is one not having any of this or that? Does one not LIKE that anymore? (I thought you liked that, or I wouldn't have made so damn much of it...) --Why did one take so little of that? (Is there something wrong with the _____? ) --Why did one pass any given plate that way instead of this way - what hidden preference, meaning or snub was meant by that? Then everyone addresses their own plate, luxuriating in a 2 minute or so period of silence as gullets are gratuitously stuffed and libations are refilled before the next gambit is offered by a player. Just about any subject is effective that adheres to the general guidelines of: --Insensitivity: something no one really wants to talk about, much less with family. --Historical value: something that everyone had mostly forgotten about - or pretends to -but is recycled anew like ripping a scab open. --Confrontational: an inflammatory tidbit, usually quite personal, that simply cannot be ignored. This usually sparks the main conversational portion of the Thanksgiving meal that, if orchestrated correctly (and if blood-alcohol content levels are sufficient), interweaves all of the foregoing issues with creative new ones in a free-wheeling, heated, dada-esque demonstration that seems to have been scripted by a writing team consisting of David Mamet, Stephen King and Quentin Tarantino. Once a sullen silence finally descends and bellies are full, that is the signal for smart contestants to vacate the dining area tout suite and head to any available furniture device which offers partial or full reclining ability and proximity to a TV where drinking is continued until unconsciousness is achieved or at least feigned. This is helped along by the sense of black despair resulting from the sudden saturation of Christmas Sale commercials & the realization that this was only the practice warmup for the Olympian event taking place approx. 4 weeks hence. Do the natives celebrate it too? Natives? You mean the Indians? What the fuck do they have to do with it? Oh, right...Actually, I don't really know what they do. I mean, they sold the whole of Manhattan Island for $24 and a handful of beads. Can't be too fucked worrying about them. Do you give thanx to god, Bush or ya mum & dad? The 'giving thanks' part occurs late in the evening, after the post-gorge nap is concluded, the inevitable and horrific eliminatory result is handled, and the car is started & everything gets smaller in the rear view mirror.
