Happy Thanksgiving Day, my M.O.Mrades! This unlikely, unexpected assemblage of unseen, online friends - whom I actually regard as true, valued friends - is among the things for which I'm most thankful on this occasion. I'm grateful that more people weren't more devastated by natural disasters that hit close to home (like, as in, as close as the other side of the living room window!) and much more thankful to the volunteers who've done so much to relieve the suffering of those whose homes and lives were turned upside down. People in New York City, as much as people in New Orleans when I lived there, reach out, band together and help each other through times of strife such as these. Limitless thanks go out to Coop and his crew and all the emergency responders who left their own storm-affected homes and towns to pitch in here.
On a hopefully not too buzz-killing note; it's my personal tradition to devote time and thought to what this holiday represents. Not only a chance to gather with loved ones to enjoy the warmth and closeness of a ridiculously excessive meal together...but also to remember the people who opened their arms to our Norwegian, British, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Italian intruder ancestors who accepted their hospitality, exploited their graciousness and simplicity...and all but eradicated their entire race from the world. Let's eat!! Seriously, a splash of Cherokee Native American (my dad's grandmother was 100%) mixed in here with the otherwise exclusively Irish blood puts me in a fairly "downtrodden, subjugated, brutalized peoples" kinda place on days like today. I'm thankful no one has oppressed white male Americans en masse, give thanks that I was never sold a small pox infested blanket with the purpose of removing my entire tribe from existence so there'd be room for essentials like the iron horse, oil derricks, subdivisions, a Starbucks on every block and an Olive Garden in every square mile...and some keen casinos. I'm thankful there are still a few Cherokee left to preserve the beauty of their nearly lost traditions and spirit.
Yeah, I guess that was pretty buzz-killish. Sput, Striker, Killah, Bama and the Prodigy bunch, read up on this stuff between servings of stuffing and cranberry sauce. A generous race of native peoples shared their bounty with our starving intruder forefathers so we'd have the strength to survive and do everything in our power to see that they didn't survive. History ain't always pretty, holidays ain't always about what they're about.
I am, deeply, profoundly thankful to have come to band together with you motley lot, and for the chance to have actually gotten to know Chet, Coop, Brian, Paul, Steve, (where the hell are ya, Oedi? We're all worried) John/Muck, (Bopes, you and I are loooong overdue for some phone time, y'think?) Anthony/Mad and a treasured handful of others both M.O.M and non-M.O.M. You know who you are. Thanks, even, to Joaquin for having designed this buggy game that's brought so many new friends into each other's lives. It's this, not the carriers on grass or spawning in an upside down plane or the chronic dropped connections, that make Dogfight invaluable. It's been a frustrating gift, but a gift nonetheless.
Thank you for your time and attention. The Management.
Now, preachy somberness aside...let's eat!!!
Rick