Black Turkey Fridays
Holiday for Neurotics
Some say it starts at Thanksgiving
the same ones who mutter under their breath
as the mailman walks away, â€œI pity the next sorry
bastard asks how my TURKEY day was!â€
Â And how they cringe when you report…..
â€œHey….this was my big year I managed to completely
defrost the MSG pigeon and not cook the giblets
in the paper packet inside the gutted body cavity.â€
And the best part are all the relatives and in-laws
in the living room the kitchen, the bathroom, the telephone.
The measured, inquisitional, hyper calm voice of your mother
in-law on the line. You know the one who used to lookÂ at you like
you are a were cross between Judas and little Charlie Manson.
She has been extremely patient with you.Â Was sure you would
Â screwÂ it up sooner or later. But so far ?
The Goddamn jury is still out.
The Uncles who after you ask for some advice can hardly
contain the merriment sparkling in their eyes saying,
â€œyou mean to tell me, itâ€™s taken you this long to realize
that youâ€™ve been barking up the wrong tree for so long,
why itâ€™s a wonder you can even still talk with all the
dead leaves stuck down your throat.â€
Â Ah yes…..
That old holiday neurotic
and itâ€™s only the beginning.
The day after â€œTurkey Dayâ€
is, of course, â€œShopping Dayâ€
onÂ Black Friday
The popular culture starts winding up the elastic
band of consumption, twisting tighter, smaller knots
of blind wild product orgy.
There may be a need for safe sex.
But safe shopping?
Then PBS will start itâ€™s a â€œWonderful Lifeâ€ loop.
George Baily in tears on the bridge in the snow.
Just before Clarence Oddbody and George Bailey
being booted out of Nickâ€™s as the bartender snarls,
â€œListen this is a bar for men who want to drink hard
liqueur to get drunk fast and we donâ€™t need any characters
coming in here given the joint ATMOSPHERE. Now do I make
myself clear or do I need to slip you a knuckle sandwich
for a convincer!!â€
And for once youâ€™re not left in tears on the couch torn by the
realization you wished the angel just might blow
it. George would either drown or the whole town wouldnâ€™t
show up in a spontaneous gesture of good will to pay
off his debts. And then off old George would be hauled to the
Can on Christmas eve as Donna Reed and the kids all sob.
It wouldnâ€™t be a wonderful life but dammit to hell it
would be a real one.
And, of course, thereâ€™s the Christmas music.
Hitting the deck in the halls
Â As the PA system blares
O ATM, O ATM, O ATM, O ATM
(Sung to the tune of O Christmas Tree)
Why were the corporations pulverizing those
carols to death? The songs had long since lost any
meaning.Â Now they were the obligatory soundtrack to the
mandatory consumption. It wasnâ€™t fair. It wasnâ€™t even music
anymore. You could not escape. You could not win.
The more reverent the sediments the more absurd your
surroundings became. Away in a manger in the
small appliance department. Standing in a line that snakes
back all the way back past stationary through womanâ€™s
underwear to the little town of Bethlehem.
The endless march of faces.
Everybody looking like their own banal Commercial induced
They looked like programs teetering on cancellation.
It was the Battan Death March of December.
The vacant eyes. The jaws slowly working the gum.
Here come the eager.
Here come the weary.
There go the satiated.
Â Shopping Mall zombies
Â stumbling numbly across the tile while,
â€œGrand Ma, got run over by a Reindeer”Â as done by Soul Asylum, blast out
overhead from the invisible P.A.â€™s
And your present this year?
Why itâ€™s the realization youâ€™re just another one of them.
No different. Worse really. You feel like this.
Shit! At least theyâ€™re happy…er…content…ah…well
adjusted to this convoluted contrived artificial cathedral
So shaddup and face Mecca.
(Currently located between Target & Best Buy)
Confused ? UseÂ your dumb-ass GPS on your Me-Phone to be directed to J.C. Petty and Sneers (sic) entrance to the temple…er I mean Mall…..
Trust me here…..it’s on your way….
Â Of course….you could just skip the hole ordeal
and just get lost…
Ducking into a bar.
You sigh. ……Order up.
Â And your shoulders slump.
Â What the hell is the matter with me anyway ?
I feel like this all year round.
You know this just the start of
The Christmas time grind.
And in a blue funk you start a conversation with a stranger.
You both commiserate.
Yeah……… itâ€™s so commercial.
Yeah………. itâ€™s a big pain in the ass.
Yeah…………… ainâ€™t like it used to be.
So you tell your stories of the Christmas past.
And your new friend tells his.
Then you both get real quiet.
Sit there elbow to elbow.
But not asshole to asshole.
Two tired souls not making it up
Soon itâ€™s time to go.
And as you shake hands and catch that something in each
others eye, while wishing season greetings, walk away
feeling a little better thinking,
â€œChrist, at least I ainâ€™t as
bad off as thatÂ old twisted crazy bitter bastard.”
So listen dumb-ass
You can get just your maetus on straight now
This year for Christmas
Shop early with your attitude and just lose that.
You know this season.
How good it can be.
BesidesÂ you only get so many of them
Here on earth.
So get lost with cyber-Scrooge Vibe
Will ya ?
From Another Rubber EdenÂ Â Â Dec. 92-93/Nov 2011
When Black Friday comes
the Consumers of Gridville
huddle in the parking lots
in predawn frozen blackness
waiting for the sensor doors
to activate and swing open
so that the ensuing stampede
into the widget warehouse
can gush cheap trinket
torrents of electronic desire
to purge themselves
of what limited imaginations
they have left and have not
squandered and impaled
upon product acquisition
to them by fiber optic
daily behavioral vampires
so well appointed
with glistening fangs
of fashion compulsion
in a I-Pad-I-Phone I- Me Me Me Me vortex
instantly alerting them
of the nowhere
And they simply cannot
live without it.
From The Terrible Now