Thanksgiving for the Restivus

Since both of the blog's authors' Thanksgiving breaks start in the middle of the week, we figured we'd split this post. The first will half will be by Tapan Jones, and the second by Mike Bogart.

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I don't think I've ever seen a black person go shopping on Black Friday. This coming from a self-proclaimed seasoned vet, having made the transition from the Canadian Boxing Day (December 26th) to Black Friday seamlessly.

Regardless of the city I'm in, I almost always never see my brothas or sistas getting their shop on. (Don't worry, I asked the black community's permission before typing like this - plus, everyone knows I <3>

Here are the numbers that I've compiled from Toronto, Chicago, and New York, all jumbled together in the same data set -- so you know it's super scientific:

33% Latino

27% Indian

14% Asian

11% White (eastern Europe)

8% White (western Europe)

7% Hill people

Given all of our ingrained stereotypes about the aforementioned groups of people, and our love for bouncy words, I hereby propose that Black Friday be changed to Frugal as Fuck Friday.

Happy Thanksgiving,

Tapan Jones

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Ever since I was a little tamale, I've wondered to myself: "What do they eat for Thanksgiving in Mexico?" I figured maybe they had a little chalupa action going on, maybe a Mexican pizza with cranberry sauce stuffed in the crust. But then, as I matured from tamale to enchilada to gordita, I realized just how stupid I had been. They have turkeys in Mexico!

You see, turkeys, as birds of prey, are indigenous to areas throughout North America and Mexico. Birds of prey are the ones that we prey on as omnivores, so we call them birds of prey. And they eat that kind of stuff in Mexico like in chicken tacos, except they call them pollo tacos. So anyways, by my logic, if they have chickens there, they must have turkeys, because birds of prey travel in packs. And who doesn't love a nice buttered up turkey on Thanksgiving! Yes, even Mexicans love them.

In conclusion, if you see a Mexican-looking guy tomorrow, just give him a little gobble noise and nod. You know what's up.

Love,

Mike

Wild Wild Midwest

The concept of Cowboys and Indians really confused the hell out of me as a kid. As many of you know, I’m an Indian man. While it is true that my people also got shot at by whitey, our whitey had an accent, sang songs about a bridge falling down, falling down, falling down, and consistently used sarcasm as a defense mechanism. So you can see why I didn’t realize that in America, people were also hating.

Once things got cleared up, and I started reading at a 3rd grade level at the very early age of 10, I found out the Cowboys were shooting up and jailing Indians of a different variety. Relieved, this news started a causal chain of thought. Here’s how it went (I’ll use the infinity sign for chain links):

Indians (heavily scented) ∞∞∞ Indians (depressive alcoholics) ∞∞∞ Cowboys ∞∞∞ Wild West ∞∞∞ Prostitutes ∞∞∞ Reasonable Prices ∞∞∞ The South ∞∞∞ Country Music Awards

Now don’t worry, I’m not here to make any claim that Indian people invented country music, but I mean, the proof is right up there. It’s math.

With this in mind, and a nonexistent acoustic guitar in hand, I realized something. If it’s in my lineage, doggone it, I am positive that I can write a country song. So without further ado, let’s make the magic happen.

Years of that 3rd grade observational skill, and the innate formula deriving ability of Indian people, have made picking out the ingredients in a country song very easy. Here’s what you need references to:
- A truck (the real American vehicle, I tell you what)
- Beer or whiskey (none of that “liberal pussy” shit)
- Freedom (these colors don’t run! (mostly because they’re colors, without feet))
- Being Cheated On (how could you Rose McCoy?! You were my sister!)
- The old days (when I was a high school football god)
- Your dog (preferably one named after an old love who cheated on you)

I realize that by posting these six criteria, I stand to lose the country industry a lot of money, because now everyone can make a song – right? Of course not! This is still music, and it requires a lot of heart, soul, dedication, and time. Speaking of doing things without any of those, this is an actual conversation I had with my fellow blog co-writer, posted verbatim.



mike: your dog
me: named betsy
mike: yeah
me: "ole betsy lou, she treats me right. never drinks, or steals, or fights. she's more of a buddy than a pup - hey bartender, fill this cup!"
mike: hahahah
me: "ole betsy lou. down by the riiiiiver. ole betsy lou, hangin out in my truck"
mike: absolutely
me: thats the whole song
i just wrote a country song
the first thing was verse 1, the second thing was the chorus
it's like mad libs with a very limited word bank

So there you have it folks, go forth on this Veteran’s Day (by the way, to any active or former people of duty, you have more balls than I have sarcasm – thank you guys very much), and make your country proud by putting on your favorite cowboy hat and shooting up some Indian lyrics.

Go ahead, make my day,
Tapan Jones