I will likely be unpleasant

for several days.

Every year, I get to read indignant letters about Thanksgiving on my various mailing lists and friends’ lists from my liberal and lefty friends regarding their disdain for the holiday because of the American genocide. I only hear about that disdain and concern then, of course, because November (and to some extent October, for Columbus Day) are the official designated months for Caring About The Native Plight, which is usually framed within some sort of reference to Sandy Creek, Wounded Knee, and a host of other historical tragedies. In tone, these letters and posts sound kinda like they’re lamenting the extinction of the dodo bird, except of course the dodo bird is actually extinct.

I also receive letters in my inbox from folks who exhort me to buy nothing today, consuming oil resources and cash money on electronic communications over boxes filled with heavy metals and toxins to urge me to save the environment through righteous non-consumption.

It’s cold in the Northeast today. I hope they have their heat off — all the way off.

I’m sorry if this comes off as mean-spirited and reactionary (trust me, o lefty brothers and sisters, I’m still Down For The Cause even if I call you occasionally on your inconsistencies). But flavor of the month bullshit makes me angry. It makes me sad and bitter.

It makes me crazy.