Happy Gluttony Day!

Actually, that’s tomorrow, but the anticipation of the grand feast my mother has already begun to prepare fills me with buzzing excitement, as if my blood has been replaced by microscopic vegan protestors with loudspeakers, all shouting “meat is murder!” in unison. Every humor in my body yearns for turkey and pie.

I think we can all agree that the holiday is inaccurately named, and in the immortal words of one Benjamin Gibbard, I’m proposing a swift, orderly change. My reasoning is as follows: very few people use the Thursday for its ostensible purpose, giving thanks, and even for those who pay gratitude, their penance is backgrounded by feasting and football. Naming is important – ask Michael Bolton from Office Space, or walk up to a random black person in Tacoma and shout one of the dozens of racial slurs you know of at them – and this day’s is a poor reflection of its true spirit and activities.

So what she we call it instead, you ask? That’s a fine question; go to the head of the class, or, if you’re not in class, just scoot closer to the monitor. Let’s examine some options. “Turkey day,” the obvious alternative, is straight out – it’s exclusionary, since some people, such as vegetarians and the wee little vegans gallivanting through my arteries, oppose the yearly genocide of the noble birds (personally, I think there’s never been an animal more deserving of slaughter than filthy, disgusting, stupid turkeys… but my callous disregard of cruelty towards members of other species is legendary among friends of mine from the aforementioned groups… sorry, Alison. I’ll pretend it’s made of soy). “Football Day” is similarly problematic; I hate the pointless, Spartan activity (sorry, Dad). I suggest we go for the title of this post, since the stuffing with food (be it meat, tofu, or “other”), the un-cinching of belts, and the lank, moaning prostration after the feast are all essentially universal experiences. Write your congressman.

And just a reminder: if you traipse back and forth across the Canadian border fast enough, you get two Thanksgivings. Of course, you’ve already missed your chance this year.

If you’ve read the site since Monday evening, you already read this article I wrote for the Daily. It turns out that my fears were, as usual, groundless: the only cut Melissa made was to my verbose description of my phone itself. The rest is there, intact, albeit with several added commas whose placement baffles me, and linguists, to the point of tears. Copyeditors are a dangerous class of humans, and it seems that the one I drew for this article was more than a little comma-happy. On the plus side, I got the lion’s share of the opinion page, since Matthews wrote this piece about the holidays that my editor thought would be more appropriate today. Don’t feel obligated to read it; surely it’s a matter of personal preference, but I seldom enjoy Megan’s articles (if she’s reading this: don’t take it personally). Perhaps it’s my well-documented hatred of the environment, or maybe her style just doesn’t tickle the right spot in my brain. I won’t split hairs.

I hope everyone is having a relaxing holiday weekend. I probably won’t, given that week 10 is almost upon us and I have to start thinking about paper topics for the four or five all-nighters I’m liable to pull. If that weren’t enough, I just realized that I have to completely change my entire schedule come Monday, when Period II registration begins and I can finally register (in theory) for those majors-only classes I have to take. It turns out that only 20 credits of 200-level coursework count towards an English degree – I’ll have that amount after this quarter, so the two Winter classes in that category for which I’m currently registered are useless and the ones I need to take are closed to me due to my major. Sigh. If you believe in Jesus, ask him to make the current occupants of these classes change their minds about wanting to take them so that there’s room for me. You can bet I will.