Happy Acadian Day

Some people call it "Black Friday," but I'll come back to that later.  According to KADN News 15 in Lafayette1 Acadian Day is "Louisiana's Least Known Holiday." It is an optional holiday in Louisiana, proclaimed by the Governor each year. As a state civil servant for 25 years, I always thought of it as an excuse for the Governor to give us a 4 day weekend. On August 15th each year Canada celebrates the history of the Acadian people with National Acadian Day.2

But the reason I started this post was to say a few things about "Black Friday." I often hear it said that the day after Thanksgiving is so called because that's the day the American retail industry moves into "the black."  Really? Retail, in this country, operates at a loss 11 months of the year? Does this idea disturb anyone but me?

Well, I did a little research while rushing, at the last minute, as I am wont to do, in an attempt to get this posted 15 minutes from right now, and this is what I found: 

The earliest evidence of the phrase Black Friday applied to the day after Thanksgiving in a shopping context suggests that the term originated in Philadelphia, where it was used to describe the heavy and disruptive pedestrian and vehicle traffic that would occur on the day after Thanksgiving. This usage dates to at least 1961. More than twenty years later, as the phrase became more widespread, a popular explanation became that this day represented the point in the year when retailers begin to turn a profit, thus going from being "in the red" to being "in the black."3

Okay..., so a "popular explanation" isn't necessarily fact..., let's look further:

The earliest known use that presents the "black ink theory" appeared in the edition of November 28, 1981 of the Philadelphia Inquirer:

If the day is the year's biggest for retailers, why is it called Black Friday? Because it is a day retailers make profits - black ink, said Grace McFeeley of Cherry Hill Mall. "I think it came from the media," said William Timmons of Strawbridge & Clothier. "It's the employees, we're the ones who call it Black Friday," said Belle Stephens of Moorestown Mall. "We work extra hard. It's a long hard day for the employees."4

Is Ms. McFeeley the source of the now popular explanation? I notice she didn't say anything about profit for the year, just that they could count on being in the black that day.

The Christmas shopping season is of enormous importance to American retailers and, while most retailers intend to and actually do make profits during every quarter of the year, some retailers are so dependent on the Christmas shopping season that the quarter including Christmas produces all the year's profits and compensates for losses from other quarters.4

Okay, so some retailers do, in fact, operate at a loss until the end of November, but the industry as a whole makes a profit year round. I feel better now.

Now all you black friday shoppers GET OFF MY LAWN.

*1 https://kadn.com/acadian-day-louisianas-least-known-holiday/
*2 https://www.daysoftheyear.com/days/acadian-day/
*3 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Friday_(shopping)
*4 https://www.businessinsider.com/meaning-of-black-friday-retail-accounting-2015-11

I'm back.

I've had 365 days to write this blog, and I've got nothin'. I did post twice over the last year, on my parents' birthdays. I felt that I couldn't let my mother's 100th pass without comment.

I did have an occasional urge to post, but I subdued it. I even had a topic now and then. I may remember some of them this year. For the last two weeks I've been reminding myself I need to write something. Now I'm scrambling to write something, take a shower, and get to High Twelve.

Thirty two years ago today I celebrated a birthday. After that I thought I was old. (I didn't have a clue.) Since, other people have celebrated, and I appreciate it, and here's a "thank you" for all the "happy birthday"s, but I claim I don't celebrate. (I have been known to take a day off when I was working. Does that constitute a celebration?)

I was born on Grant's birthday. (Ulysses Simpson or Hiram Ulysses, whichever you prefer.) My mother told me that when I was on the way whenever my dad got a $50 bill he'd say "I got another YOU-la-SEEZ S" and put it away to "pay for the baby." I always thought that was a funny coincidence. Another was that my dad was born on Robert E. Lee's birthday.

For years I thought I was born on Carol Burnett's birthday, but she was born on the 26th. When I started on this last night I looked it up. I had figured out I was wrong before and needed to confirm it. Oh well. My mother always claimed to be born on Edison's birthday, and she was off by almost 2 weeks.

While I was googling that, I found a few more people I share a birthday with. (Google wished me a happy birthday, by the way. I love Big Brother.) Mumtaz Mahal was born 4/27. She has a nice tomb. Frankenstein's grandmother (Mary Walstonecraft Godwin.) Samuel Morse, Walter Lantz, Kitty Kelly and Frank Belknap Long. Jack Klugman, Coretta Scott King, and Casey Kasem. Judy Carne, Cuba Gooding, Sr., and Sheena Easton. The King of the Netherlands and the Mayor of Newark.

Well they can all get off my lawn. (If not off my birthday.)

Mom

http://obits.theadvocate.com/obituaries/theadvocate/obituary.aspx?n=maxie-dawson&pid=175274686

One hundred years ago today, January 29th 1918, my mother was born in Polkville, Mississippi. That's 36,525 days. She lived 35,591 days (or 97 years, 5 months & 11 days.) That's a long time. I'm not getting into hours, minutes or seconds, since I'm not sure what time of day she was born. (But she lived ABOUT 3,075,062,400 seconds. I couldn't resist, it was right there.) Over three billion seconds. (I'm comin' up on two billion.)

Here is a picture of her from the late 1950s (best I can figure) along with my Dad and their pet monkey.

And here is a link to her obituary:

http://obits.theadvocate.com/obituaries/theadvocate/obituary.aspx?n=maxie-dawson&pid=175274686

Dad

I said I wasn't blogging this year, unless I had something to say. But my father would have been 93 years old today, so I just want to say "Happy Birthday, Dad."

After all, it's really your lawn.

My Last Blog Post

Here.

For a while.

I posted my first blog entry 1826 days ago. (That's 2,629,440 minutes for those of you scoring at home.) Five years for normal people.

I would say that I've run out of things to say, but that implies that I had anything to say in the first place. Having "studied" blogs a little bit in the last few months (though you couldn't tell it from this one) I have learned that they are considered by some a powerful tool. I have been told that their power lies in the ability to interact with the reader. That's where it all falls apart for me.

When I started reading blogs I found that the comment section at the bottom was generally populated by morons. I had no desire to interact with anyone, especially if they have nothing better to do than comment on something I've written.

But now, having actually found at least one successful blog that I enjoy, I see that my cynical view may have missed something. It is apparently possible for someone to be a professional smartass and still like their readers. Not me, of course, but someone.

I guess I'm doing a little house cleaning before taking a hiatus. In November I predicted a return of civility to political discourse. I'm still waiting. In the meantime I want to share with you three truths which I believe to be indisputible. I am however aware of the human ability to dispute anything (I have been accused of this myself) so I will list them in what I think is order of increasing disputability, and since I threatened in my last post to talk politics in this one, here you go:
 

1.     Donald Trump is NOT the Messiah.
2.     Donald Trump is NOT the Anti-Christ.
3.     Donald Trump IS the President of the United States.

(I'm a little stunned myself.)

Anyway, this happens to be the 31st Anniversary of my 29th Birthday. As I do every April 27th, I will set this post to publish at 6:38 PM. Then I'm taking a break. If I post anything here in the next 31,536,000 seconds it will be because I think I have something to say.

So until then, GET OFF MY LAWN!!!!!!

Happy New Year

Okay, I know it's 20 days old, but this is my first post of 2017, and that only makes my point: There is no such thing as a "new" year. I call it "The Birthday Myth."

DOES ANY OF THIS SOUND FAMILIAR?

"Do you feel older?" (Every stinkin' minute, but that's beside the point.)

"You're a year older than you were yesterday." (No, I'm not. I'm a day older than I was yesterday. I'm a year older than I was this time last year.)

(Or my favorite, from my mother, about two minutes after I turned 40: "Well, you're pushin' 50." But maybe I should let that go. After all, she did me a big favor on 27 April 1987 by having major surgery, so I never actually turned 30. TWENTY NINE FOREVER!!!)

But my point, in the unlikely event that my subtle sarcasm has obscured it, is that January 1st is only one day after December 31st. SURPRISE!

IT GETS WORSE...

The thought process doesn't end with the annual celebration of our birth,  or the passing of the winter solstice. We extend it to decades. "The Seventies: tie dye and bell bottoms." (That always says 60s to me.) "The Sixties: flower power and free love." (Well..., yeah... but what about acid and the Manson family?) "The Fifties: 'Sunday, Monday, Happy Days...'" (I bet that's stuck in your head all weekend.)

Maybe it's just me, but I find it symbolic of the whole problem* that we conceptualize a "decade of the sixties" (for example) that ran from 1960 to 1969, when, in fact, the seventh decade of the twentieth century actually ran from 1961 to 1970. The turn of the twentyfirst century happened 1/1/2001, and even though everyone appeared to actually be aware of the fact, it was just another New Years, even though the big celebration the year before had been dampened by a bogus computer panic.

But worse than that, the worst thing of all (... that I can think of ... at the moment ....) is the concept of a "generation."

THE PROBLEM WITH MILLENNIALS

As I recall** I first heard the term "millennial" around 1995. "The generation being born now won't even remember the twentieth century." Since I have fairly clear memories of my second birthday, I figured around '98 would be more accurate, but I'll give 'em five years.

I feel compelled to rant on the most useless generation in history after listening to a friend of mine rant on "Boomers." Granted, we had gotten a little alcohol into him at the time, but that is the elixir of truth. He opined that we were "the most horrid generation." Such blatant slander was obviously unsupported by facts, yet it still surprised me, coming as it did from what I had taken to be one of the least unproductive members of a generation that has yet to accomplish anything significant.

But after reflecting on the conversation, for quite some time, it hit me. This guy calls himself a "millennial." He's 28 years old. He was born in the '80s. He was 13 freakin' years old at the turn of the century. HE. IS. NOT. A. MILLENNIAL.

Then I looked it up, and realized they're GENERATION Y. Not only are they useless, they've stolen the name of the generation that follows them. Generation X was bad enough. Boomers were at least TRYING to find themselves. Generation X NEVER found themselves, and Y was "just the generation after X." I don't blame them for wanting a different name, but they didn't have to steal it from their kids!

BACK TO MY POINT

But I digress ..., and now that I have hurt a sufficient number of feelings I will point out to the delicate snowflakes that it doesn't matter whether they're called Generation Y, or they call themselves millennial, or anything else for that matter. They don't exist.

As a "generation."

Boomer, X, Y, millennial, it's an artificial construct. First of all the boundaries are vague at best. Well, the start of the baby boom is pretty clear, but after that is a blur. When I first heard of the baby boom it had ended around '55; but, well..., maybe in '57 I was right at the end of it. My latest reading has it ending somewhere around '63 to '65. For the sake of demonstrating that it doesn't matter anyway, let's call it '65.

The "Baby Boom" ran from 1946 to 1965, twenty years, a generation.

So that means, obviously, that a person born in 1965 has more in common with someone born in 1946 than he does with someone born in 1966. More in common with someone born a thousand miles away and twenty years earlier than with someone a year younger next door. Makes perfect sense.

There are far better ways to assign periods of time. I have long argued that what I call "The Sixties" starts with the Kennedy assassination and ends with the Nixon Resignation. Now that's a period in history.

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Actually, today does mark the beginning of a new ... something. Let history tell us what. It's just a happy coincidence that I will set this to post on inauguration day, but I'll take it. Today will have more impact on more lives that January 1st, or the Winter Solstice, or any other annual commemoration.

Next week I may talk politics. Until then, you millennials get off my lawn.

 

*"The whole problem?" Two minutes ago you didn't even know it was a problem.
** I ain't about to look it up.

Farewell 2016

We live in interesting times. (That's a curse, btw.)

In my last blog (Thanksgiving Day) I thanked God, in advance, for the return of civil discourse to American Politics. Of course a "return" implies that it was ever there in the first place. Let us not forget that only 212 years ago our third Vice President shot and killed our first Secretary of the Treasury in a duel.

In spite of that our political system has survived these two centuries plus. I look forward to being able to discuss politics with those with whom I disagree, particularly those smarter than I am. They should NOT be hard to find.

This is only my third post this year. So much for "back in the swing." I started writing the above intending to post it on December 2nd. I was going somewhere with that, but I guess I ain't gettin' there. I think it was to say that I may be posting more political stuff in the coming year. We'll see. I just hope to continue blogging. I've given up on writing anything worth reading. Even the self-deprecating "humor" is getting old.

Anyway, if I get this thing posted** it will be the Sixth Day of Christmas and the penultimate* day of the year. So 2016: GET OFF MY LAWN!

*Not to be obstreperous, but https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/penultimate.

**Okay, I didn't post it on time, but at least it's still Friday.