Well, Bust My Buttons!

I'd be lying if I told you Thanksgiving wasn't my favorite holiday in November. But don't get me wrong - National Button Day will always have a special place in my small, black heart. Thanksgiving, however, is different. It's the day where gluttons, like me, can feel accepted for eating our weight in honey glazed hams and mystery pies. And plus, it's the day where I get to spend time with family members that don't care to visit me during the rest of the year.

Like a cherry on the top, Thanksgiving harbingers the heralded coming of Black Friday. Because it's the day compulsive, debt-ridden shoppers declare all out war against financial advisers, retailers hope profits will get out of the red and into the black. But reading this article, the "black" in Black Friday has more to do with the grim reaper than the "green" reaper. What is even more sad is how I expect you to associate "green reaper" with cash register. But let's see... trample an innocent employee to death... or miss out on the telescope deal to be in time for the greatest show not on earth. Alright, those thrifty tramplers probably were not eying the telescopes in the optical instruments aisle but you would need a microscope to see their paltry levels of sanity and common sense. At least have the decency to return the items you got after mistaking the employee for a doormat! Fresh off of a tryptophan high, these shoppers were more animal than man.

And so sometimes, Thanksgiving can be a not so thankful time after all. But at the very least, I am thankful for other November holidays like National Button Day. Sure, Thanksgiving opens the flood gates for Black Friday sales galore, or should I say "gore," but National Button Day ensures winter jackets, fancy shirts, and endangered button flies will be properly clasped. Thank God for buttons!

Going Out On A Limb

There may never be a more appropriate moniker for a tree-sitter than "jack-a-ninny" or "nincompoop". Excuse the R-rated vernacular, but anyone who values a tree more than human needs deserves to be exposed and eviscerated for the poppycockery they stand for. Somewhere out there, Bill O'Reilley must be licking his chops.

Of course, I'm specifically talking about the Berkeley tree-sitters, who have ended their 22 month stay up in a redwood tree. Sure, the redwoods have naturally become monolithic fixtures on the soils of UCB and replacing them with a new sports facility may not be the best idea, but Memorial Stadium sits atop a major earthquake fault and is screaming for retirement. Imagine 70,000 plus watching their beloved bears being upset by another unranked team and all of a sudden... the big one hits! Sadly, there won't be enough tables for everyone to cower under. Throngs of Berkeley brainiacs will resort to making mad dashes out their seats as if the exits were offering free pocket protectors to the first ten people. But when the dust settles, all you will hear on the news is utter tragedy - that there were no free pocket protectors at the exits.

Alrite, I will fess up - it's not so much that I care about the Cal Bear nation, it's more like I don't care for tree-sitters. That little stunt cost California tens of millions of dollars on security measures. The law abiding, non-tree-sitting people of California will end up being slapped with this bill. And it's not fair that they were treated like royalty up there. Because if I was up there chucking down buckets of human waste, they'd just chop the tree down with me in there. Either that or they would just set the tree on fire and leave me to fend for myself.

And what of the trees? With the tree-sitters sitting in and defiling these innocent redwoods for 22 months, what tree wouldn't want to be euthenanized? Those tree-sitters just hurt their own cause and their cause is going to hurt them. At least I secretly hope so. Needless to say, these tree-sitters need better things to do. Take a shower, get pottie retrained, and work on a resume or two. The to-do list should stretch for light years.

Something Smells Fishy...

Put those celebrations on hold, party people. I'm not dead - not yet, anyway. And I don't intend to be until I reach the glorious, ripe age of 173. Why 173? It's just a random number. Don't look too much into it.

So with the news of the Alaskan governor joining the presidential race, I feel a bladder-bulging obligation to share a cool picture from the land "up over." Here it is, in all it's glory, or should I say gory...


The picture needs no explanation, but what kind of blogger would I be if I just slapped on a picture and not give it the proper words it is due? Still a pretty bad one. But it's the blogger's code and I must abide by it. Never heard of this code, you say? That's because it's a set of rules and regulations that I put together for fun. And Section 148.c specifically states that all pictures that need no explanation must be explained.

Anywho, this is my cousin from Alaska. And no, I'm not talking about the fish. I have yet to meet family that belong to an aquatic species. But even more surprising is that the guy with a modicum of Asian resemblance is not my cousin either! But rather, it's the Turkish delight on the left. I've censored his smooth 'stache to conceal his identity. PETA would have a field day with him.

But show me someone that's not impressed with the size of that halibut and I'll show you a liar. Perhaps the greatest feat to be feated in the history of my family, this picture has brought honor to the family, counteracting the slabs of shame I haul in year after year. Sure, I have other cousins who do some pretty nifty things... One puts his life on the line everyday to protect citizens, one contributes to academia and the public community, one turns savage natives into classy scholars, and one is a world-renown organ scholar. But this one catch outshines them all. My younger cousins have blindingly bright futures ahead of them and may top this one day but trying to out-cool this bountiful catch is still akin to me trying to do long division - might as well wave that white flag while it's still clean.

The Louvre has Mona Lisa. The Forbidden Palace has Mao Zedong. And my family? We have the halibut slayer.

Oh, and that red, bloody-like substance bleeding out of the flesh - that's just rasperry jam.