Wednesday, November 26, 2003

I hate Thanksgiving ...

Go ahead. Call me a jerk. You wouldn't be the first. Or say that I'm stupid. I've heard that before. Oh, and don't forget to lay the Commie label on thick, too. I can take it.

I hate thanksgiving. Despise it. If there were a day I could wipe from the calendar, it would be
Thanksgiving. Or Turkey day, as some like to call it.


17 people just dropped what they were holding. And another 8 just drove into a ditch.

But it's true. I hate it. Can't stand it. What a waste of a day.

It's not that I'm not thankful – ou contrair. I'm a very thankful person. I have everything I need and most things I want and I appreciate that fact. At the Leffler household, we have a thankful tree on our fridge. Beginning November 1st, at my wifes suggestion, we put a construction paper
tree trunk on the fridge and every day since, the four of us – my wife, my two daughters and i – have added a leaf each ... saying what we were thankful for ... which we will continue until the
end of the month.

It's not that difficult, believe it or not, to come up with things you're thankful for. And my daughters, god bless their hearts, have come up with some AWESOME things to be
thankful for. It's not all toys and sugar cereal. Callie – my three year old – said one day that she was thankful for her friend Amber. Emily – my six year old – proclaimed thanks that girls in Afghanistan can go to school again. My thanks have ranged from my car – to my wife – to having a job that gives me the flexibility to spend with my family.


I think both my daughters on one day or another have said that they're thankful for Thanksgiving. Yeah. That's not on my list. Again, I despise it.


I was talking with my mother last night about it. I'm thankful for her, too, BTW. Anyway, I was talking to mom about my reason for not being a big Turkey Day fan and she said she didn't understand why any man would not like Thanksgiving.

“I mean, you get to sit around and watch football while the women do all the work,” she said.

First of all, my house isn't like that. My wife – who I'm also thankful for – isn't a housewife.
She works for a living and we share the duties at home. Now to be fair, she probably does more work at home, but it's not like I sit on the couch and she serves me. Trust me. It's nothing like that.


Secondly, while I enjoy football – and typically partake in the pigskin madness on the Fourth Thursday in November, I could certainly do without it. I'm happy watching the Bills once a week – and could easily skip the rest.


And third, I hate to watch people work. I especially hate to watch people – or to be part of –
spending all morning and part of the afternoon to make dinner. Spending an hour eating it – and spending the rest of the night cleaning up.


And then their's the menu itself. I love beef. Steak. Burgers. You name it. I also like pork. Pork chops. Pork loin. Ham. I even go crazy over hot dogs. All kinds of fish, too. And I'm a big fan of chicken breast. Especially marinated in italian dressing and then grilled. Note that I didn't proclaim my love for Turkey.


Sure it's okay on a sandwich. But to just cook it up, slice it up, and eat it – not so much. For one
thing, carving the bird is a pain in the ... okay, I can't say that word. This is family radio, after all.


And then there's the fact that it makes you sleepy. Tryptophan – that's the ingrediant that makes you tired. Why would you want to eat something that sucks the energy out of you? I just don't get it.


Mix all this with family members that you only see once a year at most ... and that's too often. And who would like this terrible “holiday?”


I have a theory. I was discussing this theory with morning show host Paul Oates the other day. I think that EVERYONE hates thanksgiving ... but they're afraid to say it because they'll be cast off the island like some paraih – some leper.

So, I'll be the fall guy. I said it. I hate thanksgiving. Now, it's your turn. Join me. Thanksgiving haters unite.

Or, maybe you think I'm a jerk. I'm stupid. I'm a Commie. If that's your bag, let me know.

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