Tomorrow is the fourth Thursday of November. I can’t help thinking God is probably still pretty mad about everything that has happened to the Native Americans since the first Thanksgiving. But I shouldn’t be a killjoy. Why do I always try to ruin everyone’s good time?
I was just thinking about that episode of “The Brady Bunch” where they reenacted the landing at Plymouth Rock, and how excited I was to see Alice portraying a male pilgrim; I thought, as far as I could when I was so young and not in full possession of even the barest understanding of homosexuality (especially my own), “Aha! So I’ve been right all along! Alice doesn’t REALLY like Sam the Butcher – I’m not sure WHY, but seeing her in a beard dressed like a man makes me sure I’m right anyway.”
Then she was dressed like a lady pilgrim in the same home movie. (However: she still had the mustache. Very confusing.) So I was confused and a little crestfallen, but also relieved, because I no longer had to worry about the storm of conflicting emotions and responses gathering in my head over all that…whatever it was (a lady in male drag; I’d never heard of such a thing).
Anyway. Going to bed grateful that I don’t have to work tomorrow or pretend to give a shit about a holiday celebrating the continuation of as-yet-never-ending genocide on the continent of North America.