Black, defined as lacking hue and brightness, absorbing light without reflecting any of the rays composing it or – in this case – gloomy, pessimistic or dismal. And Friday, known across the nation as the sixth day of the week, payday, or – for you literature buffs – a character in Daniel Defoe’s “Robinson Crusoe.” Combined, however, those two words represent the most sinister and inherently wicked non-holiday ever conceived by humankind ... Black Friday.
Unless, of course, you’re referring to the Steely Dan song, a favorite of mine.
As for that blackest of Fridays – November 25 this year – I refuse to participate, no matter what’s on sale, who’s selling, where it’s being sold or – most importantly – when it’s going to be up for grabs. Not me, not ever ... no way.
In fact, this dastardly dose of stress – offered up slyly in the form of holiday shopping and the never-ending search for that elusive, perfect deal – is nothing more than capitalism (see greed) in its most innovative, yet clearly obvious, guise.
The worst part? People still fall for it ... year after year.
Personally, I think it’s downright pathetic. Others, however, seem to disagree and – sorry to all you early-bird-gets-the-worm holiday shoppers – all I can do is laugh (hysterically, I might add) as you jockey for position at some ungodly hour, lining up like cattle for the inevitable crush of humanity as – insert your favorite retail store here – finally opens its doors, whether it be midnight, 2 a.m., 4 a.m. or 6 a.m.
Me? I have better things to do, like ... a) sleep ... b) get ready for work ... or c) use one of my precious vacation days so I can video the chaos and madness, later posting said video – which will soon go viral and make me a million bucks – to YouTube for others’ viewing pleasure.
I think I’ll go with that first option.
