The I-Man's Blog: Stuff This

I have a lot to be thankful about, and I am.  As many of you know – on second thought, as all of you know – I have prostate cancer and I’m dealing with it holistically. 

The course of treatment is going very well and I’m thankful for that.  I have the best family anybody could possibly wish for and I’m thankful for that. Deirdre’s knowledge, attention to detail and commitment to me are the reasons my disease is in check.  So, I don’t want to seem negative at this cheerful time of year.  Doubtless I will appear to be negative, though, when I explain to you that what I’m not all that thankful for is…Thanksgiving.

And why?  Because the time-honored traditional Thanksgiving table, in addition to being an excessive repast of, basically, cancer-causing agents, is also an entrée to something just short of “parricide;” the formal term for the killing of one’s close relatives. 

Thanksgiving, Christmas, Hanukkah and the like all throw utterly dysfunctional people together who spend the rest of the year avoiding contact because each one knows something about the next – some habit, some tic – that makes them crazy, murderous, or both.  Maybe it’s a gas-passing aunt.  Uncle Barton who sucks his teeth.  Some third cousin loser on his ninth can of beer belching candied yam fumes in your face as he hits you up for a loan.  Or worse, some third cousin loser on his ninth can of beer belching candied yam fumes in your face who hasn’t repaid the last loan you gave him that he now distinctly remembers as having been a “gift.”

And another reason to loathe tradition:  Both Thanksgiving and Christmas have to have parades.  New York’s annual Macy’s parade is America’s biggest, most extravagant and unending.  Unless you have some kind of connection to a person or organization actively participating in a parade, there is absolutely no reason to watch one.  Parades are for music masochists who try to convince themselves that they are actually enjoying listening to off key high school bands assault the streets with way too much brass.  And, in the case of the Macy’s parade, freeze to death while they’re at it. Giant cartoon character balloons terrify children and indelibly imprint in their memories.  Or worse.  For example, in one infamous episode, a balloon got whipped by a wind gust, tore down a light standard and caved in the head of a curbside viewer who very nearly watched her last Macy’s Thanksgiving parade ever.  I forget which character delivered the blow that put her in a month-long coma.  Cat in the Hat, I think.

 The only good thing I can recall about a Macy’s parade happened in 2008 when another out-of-control balloon sideswiped the broadcast booth during NBC’s cringingly vacuous live coverage…momentarily, and mercifully, silencing Al Roker and Matt Lauer.  Just not nearly long enough.  Two more reasons I hate Thanksgiving:  Al Roker and Matt Lauer.  I’ll get around to my thoughts regarding the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree later. 

In the meantime, I have no desire to spend time in the kitchen, this holiday season or any other, watching somebody use their bare hands to stick stale breadcrumbs up a dead turkey’s butt.  Which I’m then expected to eat?  No “Thanks.”