Done With The Holidays

Ah, the day after Thanksgiving. I have discovered a couple of truths ("truths" being utterly subjective based on my world view--your mileage or "truths" may vary).

1. You find, at least here in the Plains of Kansas, that, on Thanksgiving Day, there are a LOT of Hispanic families toodling about. Now, before you point your uber liberal fingers at me and cry "Hatemonger!", let me just say this is an observation and not an attempt to insult any ethnic group. I just noticed, while at the local SuperCenter, a large number of Hispanic families in the store. During regular days, you might see one or two, but I honestly thought there was some sort of Hispanic festival or something I wasn't aware of.

Then it hit me. Thanksgiving has to be one of the few days the mostly Anglo population is at home (the other would be Super Bowl Sunday). No one to intimidate, glare or insult these families. So they came out, most in what had to be their Sunday best. They don't have the same Thanksgiving Day concepts, so, to them, it was the perfect day to take the family out for shopping and fun.

2. People, on the day after Thanksgiving, are the biggest bunch of low-life, shit-sucking weasels to walk the planet. It tends to affirm my view that the nukes should be used post-haste and let's leave the planet to the cockroaches. Pushing, shoving, elbowing, cutting in line, spewing the most valueless filth from their mouths in a public setting where they are assured the biggest audience. Drivers aim for you, can't wait for pedestrians (WHO HAVE THE FUCKING RIGHT-OF-WAY!!!) because they just might miss out on more meaningless crap at some store down the street, and seem blind to the fact that every other moron with a driver's license is acting the same way.

This is all nothing new. We've all seen it. But it is sad to have it re-affirmed every damn year I venture out just to see the crowds and attempt to stretch my tolerance for interaction with my fellow humans. The saddest thing I saw today was the woman at a store who stood paralyzed with a look of distress. I was practically shoved into her, and, seeing that look on her face, asked, "Hey, can I do something to help you?" This brought the response "Don't fucking touch me." Yup, that's my thought. That thought goes out to the older guy who groped my breast while squeezing past through the checkout line I was standing in. You're lucky I didn't kill you, but I had been in that line for nearly thirty minutes, PLUS, you aren't worth going to jail over.

Next year, I'm just going to volunteer for an extra-long shift at work.