One fucked-up holiday.

I was born on Thanksgiving... which should tell you something about this wrong-headed day, right off the bat.

The older I get, the more trouble I have with this orgiastic American ritual. Okay, sure -- back in the day, when the pilgrims were hanging on by the skin of their teeth, it was cool to say "y'know what? fuck temperance... let's party!" But in this day and age, we just don't need it. I mean yes, absolutely, we all should take a day (many more than one, actually) to count our blessings and offer up a little gratitude to that place where, in your own mythology, it might best be couched. But this pornography of consumption that accompanies the day... have you ever considered the sheer volume of food that is prepared and consumed and yes, wasted on this day? Year after year we swear to this time take it easy, and year after year we overdo it. Maybe it's just me.

But just once I'd like to see the army of turkeys, lined up for the slaughter of that one day... the mountain of spuds, the oceans of cranberries, the glittering spire of wine, champagne and liquor bottles...

Next year, definitely, we're going to take it easy on the consumption (well, except maybe the liquor)...