Black Friday Blues
Ahh, here we are, straight out of a tryptophan-induced coma, five pounds heavier, savagely hungover, smack dab in the middle of Black Friday, that unique annual timeout when scores of us languish on the couch in our threadbare loungewear, the remote a mere two feet too far away to convince our synapses to rouse us to action and end this godawful "Gilligan's Island" long-weekend marathon. What could be more American? It's maybe the one time of year when most of the nation is on the same wavelength, a throwback to the good ol' days when people would huddle en masse around the transistor radio listening to the World Series or gather in front of one of those old tube-based, 21-inch TV sets watching the final episode of MASH. And while everyone, no doubt, will be doing their own thing, the collective experience of the majority of us possessing a four-day "get out of jail free" card has to count for something in these fractured times, right?... I don't know, just a gut feeling.
In this, "The Year of Living Dangerously and Then Some", an extended oasis nestled in between Halloween's monster mash/candy grab and the yuletide's shop until you drop (or at least max out all your plastic), it's just what the doctor ordered, a necessary respite from all that is hype. An opportunity to catch our breath, to hop off the hamster wheel, if only momentarily, and recharge our batteries before climbing back into that uber-capitalistic saddle again. In essence, it's remarkable that this 96-hour period is still around, that some enterprising industrialists haven't convinced our "esteemed" political figureheads, abetted by wheelbarrows full of moolah, that Thanksgiving should be honored on a Monday, thus ensuring only one lost revenue day during the week. Equally remarkable is the fact we're not asked to shell out crazy dinero for grandiose ornamentation or gifts to fully participate in this holiday. Nope, just a turkey with all the fixin's and we're good to go.
So how did the moniker, "Black Friday", make the scene? Interestingly, it first appeared in print in 1610 as a term school children would use to label any Friday when exams were scheduled (the little dickens!) and then in the 1860s it was applied to a couple of big financial panics, both in Britain and the U.S. But it wasn't until 1951 that the phrase was used to refer to the day after Thanksgiving in the industrial magazine, "Factory Management and Maintenance" (riveting reading, I'm sure), referencing the fact that workers by the droves would call out sick the day after the big feast, thus comparing it to the earlier Black Friday stock market crash inferring that, yeah, it was a really bad day. Another story credits the phrase as coming from bookkeepers and shop owners who, contrarily, considered it a banner day as their account ledgers went from red, signifying losses, to black, indicating profit. And, of course, that's the definition that won out and prevails today.
Indeed, it's all about the money, honey. And thus my quandary: To shop or not to shop, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows, in tandem with the pointed elbows and clawing fingernails, all necessary armament when jockeying for position amongst complete strangers in an all-out effort to wrestle away the very last, newest, trendiest item on the shelf ('cause, like, we're talkin' a Black Friday 50% off deal, folks!). Or do I take the easy way out and go back to bed where it's all warm and fuzzy, totally stress-free. Better still, maybe opt for a little hair of the dog, starting with a mimosa brunch (I know there's some champagne around here somewhere). And so it goes, this highly anticipated carefree mini-vacay has somehow turned into another decision-making dilemma with no easy answers. Doesn't it figure that this planned haven from cognitive responsibility would somehow meet its Waterloo?
Okay, so I've made a little progress, halving the distance between myself and the TV remote. Talkin' a measly foot. Twelve inches. Now if I could only muster the energy to reach over and off Gilligan & Co. for good I just might be able to conjur up some clarity and actually make a decision as to what to do today... Whoa, hold on a sec... Huh, this is the episode where everyone's allergic to Gilligan, forcing the professor to concoct an allergy shot. Oh man, you should see the size of the needle he's come up with. The skipper's freakin' out, doesn't want any part of it. Too funny... Ya know, maybe I was a bit hasty about this show, calling it godawful and all. It really is harmless, a reflection of simpler times. Happier times. Yeah, maybe I'll just forego the shopping madness, lay here for a bit and have a couple laughs. A "Gilligan's Island" marathon... what could be more American?