Spoken like someone who doesn’t get BEST WORST HOLIDAY off

Impetus: Creative Loafing “article” about how Confederate Memorial Day should be ended.

For starters, this is the “author” of said “article.”  Can we say definition of white guilt here?  Or should I call it like it really is, which is the dreaded slow news day?

What the so-called Unofficial Governor of the Day doesn’t seem to realize is that if he were to get his wish and Confederate Memorial Day were ended, and no longer recognized as a state holiday that many, many Georgia state workers do not get off any more, there would likely be a large segment of said many, many Georgia state workers who would wish that his head ended up on a spike outside the walls of Kings Landing.

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BEST WORST HOLIDAY

Ahh, it’s that time of the year when I can wake up on a Monday morning, and not feel the anxious feeling of knowing that I have a finite amount of time to brush my teeth, get dressed, let the dog out, and get out on the road, before a very tiny window of time that separates a 45-minute commute from a 60+ minute commute.

For it is Confederate Memorial Day observed in the great state of Georgia, and I do not have to work today.

This is kind of like the feeling of watching your favorite sports team’s arch-rivals losing to a third party.  After your favorite sports team has already lost for the day.

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Thanksgiving musings

The following is a spatter of random thoughts that have gone through my head throughout the course of the holiday. I may or may not attempt to chronologically sort them when I’m done, as I’m pecking this out on my busted iPad.

The above picture is my wailing niece. I wanted to have some sort of visual to accompany this post.

This trip is the first time that I’ve brought my own car into the Commonwealth of Virginia in quite some time. The last time I drove my own car on my old stomping grounds was when I still had my old Nissan and I still felt it had the legs to make the trips from Atlanta to NOVA. Part of it is refreshing and fun to drive my own car on old familiar roads, but another part is apathetic and piteous of the residents of Virginia, whom have apparently been beaten into submission of driving like sissies in fear of the overzealous ticketing and fine system in place here. Safety is one thing, but the legions of people camping the left, passing lanes, going the approximate speed limit are bigger hazards to other motorists than the occasional tryhard going 88 mph, I would hypothesize.

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The serious business of pumpkin carving

One of my friends throws a pumpkin carving party every year, and for the most part, I try to participate in it every year I can. The impetus of the party is the belief that it’s simply nice to have traditions; and I for one could not agree any further. That being said, regardless of who, or how many people actually participate in the act of carving pumpkins, I have always taken it pretty seriously; probably to a magnitude where my effort can make up for the lack of effort on someone else’s part (I’ve carved two pumpkins a few times now).

Because I’ve had a difficult time of finding content as well as motivation of things to write in the absence of my brog, I figured I would write a little bit about my process when it comes to preparing for pumpkin carving.

For starters, I am a tryhard, and I do not care to use any generic stencils or ideas that come available in a commercially available book or website. I prefer to strive for unique ideas, or things that really hit home to my personal preferences.

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That’s the American way

Since there was no work today, I turned on the television and looked for something to watch.  Because I’m kind of a jock, my default destination to begin searching typically starts with the sports block of channels, and immediately, there were two things that caught my eye.  On ESPN, was the annual Fourth of July Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating contest, and one ESPN2, was the World Cup, with a quarterfinal game between France and Germany no less.

With the US National Anthem softly playing in my head, I chose the hot dogs.

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Oh, Georgia

It’s that time of the year again: where you’re probably at work, and I am not, for today is the recognized Confederate Memorial Day.

It’s a paid day off, so I’m not complaining about that part, but it never fails to amuse me when one of the Mondays of April is recognized as such an ironic day of remembrance.  Sometimes, it’s hard to believe people who publicly exclaim their excitement of the approaching holiday, because they’re not really paying attention to why we’re getting the day off, as much of the knowledge that it’s a day off.

Ironic in that regard, is the fact that it’s unavoidable to not acknowledge that Atlanta is a very predominantly black city, and there were people in my office who happen to be black, being overheard talking about how they couldn’t wait for the “holiday weekend,” because it meant having an extra day off, and their subsequent plans to accommodate the extra time.

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