I’ve waxed poetic (OK, it was un-poetic… so sue me) about the death of Thanksgiving in previous years. It’s the only “pure” holiday left – a day set aside for gathering with friends and family to give thanks, with no (purse)strings attached. But since retailers can’t sellyou something you don’t need on that day, they ignore it. As soon as the clock strikes midnight on All Hallows’ Eve (the “sell them candy and costumes and party supplies” holiday), retailers hit fast forward and skip right to Christmas (the “sell them everything that isn’t bolted down” holiday).
The day after Thanksgiving usually marked the starting point for the onslaught of the relentless retailing race. But every year, there are more retailers jumping the gun in an unceasing effort to get inside your pants (because your wallet is there, that’s all).
In the past couple of years, “Closed on Thanksgiving Day” has fallen by the wayside. This year it’s “Black Friday NOW!” mania, as witnessed by the ads in yesterday’s newspaper:
Believe it or not, I’m actually in favor of this trend. Because if “Black Friday” moves up to early November, maybe all the crass commercialism will be over before Thanksgiving, and we can actually enjoy Thanksgiving and Christmas without the shopping hassles. Doesn’t that sound refreshing? So, without further ado, a couple of tunes for your shopping pleasure…
No doubt you’ve heard of (and heard the music of) the former. Chances are, you’re not familiar with the latter. But Johnny Cash is to country music as Johnny Clegg is to South African music. A pioneer, a trailblazer, a true icon. I don’t think it’s hyperbole to call him the Nelson Mandela of music. Back in the Apartheid era, teenage Johnny crossed color lines to learn music and dancing from Zulu men in Johannesburg, and eventually brought it to the world.
“They knew something about being a man, which they could communicate physically in the way that they danced and carried themselves. And I wanted to be able to do the same thing. Basically, I wanted to become a Zulu warrior. And in a very deep sense, it offered me an African identity. It was like a homecoming for me; I don’t know why, but I felt that.”
When he formed an integrated band – Juluka – with Sipho Mchunu, they couldn’t even play in public at first. Eventually they landed a record deal and toured the world.
When Sipho got homesick and left for his Zululand home, Johnny formed a new band called Savuka, which means “We Have Risen” in Zulu. His songs were at the forefront of the fight for equality in South Africa.
“You could not ignore what was going on. The entire Savuka project was based in the South African experience and the fight for a better quality of life and freedom for all.”
One of the best concerts I’ve ever seen was Johnny Clegg & Savuka at a club in Cincinnati, circa 1993. For some strange, mystical reason, I too wanted to become a Zulu warrior that night. And I can’t dance worth a damn. The passion, the energy, the “goodness” emanating from Johnny and his band was palpable, and the tsunami of positive vibes swept up the whole crowd. “I don’t know why, but I felt that.”
Johnny Cash is gone. Johnny Clegg will be gone soon – he’s battling pancreatic cancer. He just wrapped up a brief U.S. tour and has headed home to South Africa, with one more gig in Cape Town lined up for this year.
A new dad-centric, humor-based website called The Dad launched yesterday.
And I’m happy to say that I’m a contributor to the hijinks. (Follow us on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter too!) The Executive Editor is a former co-worker of mine, and he was familiar with my irreverent all-company emails (there’s a phrase that doesn’t get tossed around too much), so he invited me to submit stuff for the new site.
Thus far, I’ve only contributed memes to the mix. Like this gem:
Heck yeah I ‘liked’ my own creation… vanity, thy name is dubbatrubba.
Yes, I realize I’m contributing to the dumbing down of America, nay, the world, by creating “content” that consists of goofy pictures and a caption. But it’s “shareable” and that’s how the world wide web works these days (or so I’m told). Eventually I hope to contribute a few Dave-Barry-style articles as well, maybe the random goofy video. 20 years removed from writing and performing comedy on The Gary Burbank Show on radio, it’s nice to be able to stretch those humor muscles once again. Now please hand me the Icy Hot… or better yet the Absorbine Jr.
Please check out The Dad online often, subscribe to the newsletter, and share it with your friends. Or your enemies if you don’t care for it. Thanks!
This past weekend was Uber-relaxing for me… except I don’t find being an Uber driver (and an unpaid one at that) very relaxing.
Friday afternoon: Pick up Peter from his class field trip at Northern Kentucky University, drive him home.
Take Leah to the thrift shop so she could look for Halloween costumes, then drive her back home, just in time to…
Take Peter to his job at the pizza parlor, and get home just in time to…
Take Andrew and his friend to the junior high dance at school.
Bring home Andrew, his friend and another friend (guess that kid’s parents found out about our complimentary ride policy), as well as Leah, who was attending the football game. Drop each kid off at their respective home.
Saturday afternoon: drive Leah to a friend’s house so she could get ready for a classmate’s Halloween party
Saturday evening: pick up Leah and 3 friends at the party, and drive them all back to their homes.
7 trips, a total of 14 different stops… $0 earned. I need more hustle in my side hustle.
Good thing these kids don’t know that I failed my taxi driver test:
Sorry to have back to back blog posts about baseball (you’re getting very sleepy….), but the recent spate of manager firings seems preposterous.
Dusty Baker – you finished first in your division in both years as manager of the Washington Nationals. Congratulations! Oh, and one other thing:
John Farrell – you made the playoffs 3 of the 5 years that you managed the Red Sox – including this year (and one of the other years you were out with lymphoma) – and won a World Series. Great job. P.S.:
P.P.S. We’re replacing you with someone who has zero managerial experience. Here’s some salt for your wound.
Joe Girardi – your Yankees made the playoffs in 6 of your 10 years at the helm, you won a World Series, and you lost in 7 games to the AL champion Astros this year. Fantastic. Here’s a gift for you:
Seems like anything short of winning the World Series is grounds for dismissal these days. That’s absurd. You can do a masterful job managing 25 millionaires over a 162-game season, but if your team is edged out in a 5- or 7-game playoff series by another squad that’s slightly better, slightly luckier, slightly hotter or all of the above, you get the axe?
I hope the Yanks, Red Sox and Nats all stink next year… that would be karma.
“One of the craziest games you will ever see” said the TV announcer
“Wasn’t that the best game ever!?” said the Astros’ third baseman.
“It was an emotional rollercoaster” said the Dodgers’ manager.
“This is an instant classic and to be part of it is pretty special” said the Astros’ starting pitcher.
“The craziest game that I’ve ever played in” said the Astro who hit the game-winning two-run homer in the 11th inning.
8 home runs – a World Series record – including three by the Astros in extra innings, also a postseason record for any team. A game-tying home run on an 0-2 pitch in the top of the 9th against a closer who was previously untouchable.
And I didn’t see a lick of it.
My dad was a huge Dodgers fan, so I’m happy they’re in the World Series. I spent several summers in Houston and have relatives there – even went to one of my first MLB games at the Astrodome waaay back when – so I’m happy they’re in too. But the games start past 8 p.m. and typically go until midnight (or later when it’s extra innings). I know I won’t be able to see the ending, so why bother with the early innings? It’s like walking out on Star Wars before Luke flies toward the Death Star.
I know TV ratings (and revenue) rule the roost, but if MLB wants to capture the attention and hearts of the next generation of fans, they need to figure out a way to start the at least a couple of the World Series games earlier, or else it’s just the sound of one hand clapping.
You done said…