Cattle Guard (Top Ten Jokes at the Bottom)
I watched, late last night, as droves of people emerged from the warmth of their homes, piling into cars, or vans or onto tandem bicycles with hopes of being some of the first hands to grab ahold of Black Friday "doorbusters" and deals. It's incredible how, merely hours before, these same individuals labored over turkey feasts and festive decorations: table spreads looking like a crisp autumn breeze mischievously scattered colorful leaves across the center of the table and in those weird whicker horn baskets that hold no logical reason for existence save to coddle plastic gourds while we eat potatoes in the presence of family and friends. Whicker horns are the "Lady's Jean Pocket" of Thanksgiving - they are mainly just for show with no functional purpose. (In both cases, neither can hold a real pumpkin and, in the end, isn't that the true test for most things?) And yet, though we held a day in our calendar year dedicated to acknowledging the blessings in our lives, it never ceases to amaze me that our consumerism desires for things we do not have are able to overshadow any thankfulness for the things that we do.
How peculiarly thin the line is between thankfulness and chaos. If Black Friday has taught me anything, it is that this line is apparently formed in stuffing, gravy and new televisions. What has come to surprise me is the capacity with which people are able to radically divide their intentions for a day. Not to claim that there is ever a "correct" way of living life, but I don't think I've ever maintained the physical capacity to stand after a Thanksgiving Meal, let alone get into fights over Barbies. After witnessing multiple UFC fights erupt amidst Black Friday shoppers, I think some people need to rethink their approach to the dinner table; I've never seen someone angrily finish a slice of pie. Honestly, I'm more in awe every year by people's tolerance to tryptophan than I am with monetary savings.
This Thanksgiving, my girlfriend was asked to help on the front lines of Black Friday sales. So, after dropping her off at work I watched as countless people braved chilling, Washington rain so that they could form lines around stores and malls. ("I watched people" always sounds much creepier when you bring attention to it, does it not? You know, like with a follow-up sentence inferring the obscurity? Is this getting too meta? I thought so.) I watched, not necessarily detached, but more or less philosophically - the same way a poet or artist observe the world, trying to deduce and establish meaning. When left alone inside of my own mind for too long, I often begin to question "Why am I here when they are over there." It's never a negative thought, harmless at its foundation. I figure that finding an answer to why we do the things we do can help us to define who we are and the person we want to be.
It's possible that this is all too broad of a scope for Black Friday to be filtered. Perhaps an artist can paint a flower simply because they like flowers (not to put some Freudian psychological diagnosis behind a picture of a geranium - here's looking at you, O'Keefe). However, I believe our ability to be original hinges on the genuineness of our intentions and addressing this gives us nothing else to analyze except ourselves.
Swaddled in scarves and jackets, the lines of shoppers formed behind cattle-guard railings which stood as a means of establishing some sort of order for the chaos that was soon to come. Retail workers stood behind locked glass doors, preparing their minds, bodies, and souls for the night. (Some of them would not make it - we will light a candle for you in the hallway, friends.) It seemed to me that everyone, except for me, was radically preparing for a moment that had yet to take place. It was almost as if the participation in Black Friday meant displaying hopefulness for the future's ability to fulfill personal desire.
It's weird how desire so easily teeters on the line between vulnerability and control. As I gazed upon the masses, I was reminded of the saying "In a room full of people, the stand-up comedian is the one facing the wrong direction." I sat, separated from everything that Black Friday has come to offer, away from deals, crowds and all social interaction. Locked behind the doors of a car, by all physical standards, I was alone. Yet somehow, with an audience of one, I found myself in the same balance of vulnerability and control. Perhaps, desire in some moments should belong to and for ourselves: a future built on what we see and what we think when no one else is around. I began this blog as a means of helping myself grow as a comedian and as a person. I wanted to pressure myself to understand what I think as well as why I think the way that I do. Now I understand that Black Friday is merely a day, just as Thanksgiving is merely a day. However, what we choose to do on any given day becomes a brief window into who we are. So, when the doors unlocked on this late Thanksgiving evening and lines began filtering past brick and mortar thresholds into the cesspool of holiday savings, I found comfort in knowing that, in a crowd of people, I was the one facing the wrong direction.
It's impossible to bring any sort of summation to my night. But, what I can say is this:
1. I don't need a cattle guard to tell me where to go or where to stand
2. I don't need a day to tell me when I should be thankful
3. Even with the sales, I'm too poor to participate in Black Friday
Black Friday Jokes
As some of you know, I recently began the process of writing 25+ jokes a day. As a comedian, I have always tried to write jokes every day, but I never made it a priority to challenge myself in the process of joke writing. For over a week, now, I have given myself the task of writing jokes based on one specific idea, word, or thing. While some "topics" prove to be much easier because of how broad they are, some have had me stumped. "Black Friday," surprisingly, was one of those topics. Not to say that it was hard to write jokes, but I found myself naturally attracted to similar punchlines (Which I didn't want to do. The challenge is to write jokes, but what good is that if they all end the same way?) Regardless, I'm proud of the work that I do and, in the spirit of Black Friday, am honored to share with you ten of today's jokes!
I want to camp out for Black Friday sales at REI just for the sake of irony.
Black Friday is notorious for having hour-long waits in line with grumpy, impatient people - it's the Disneyland of $10 savings.
"DoorBusters" sounds less like a Black Friday sale than it does a 1950s home improvement business. Or a sequel to Ghostbusters where the team has developed a severe hatred for building and room entryways.
Little-known fact: boxing originated in history on Black Friday when two people fought over a belt; that's precisely the way the sport as stayed for the past 400 years.
Found some Black Friday deals for 50% off pants: half-off pants or, what I like to call them, "shorts."
I wonder if the Dallas Cowboys ever go Black Friday shopping. Maybe their "game" is just warm up for when the offensive line gets to Best Buy. Sure, they have a terrible throwing game, but rushing yards are where the Black Friday sales are won.
Apparently, pet cemeteries don’t have Black Friday sales…so I’ve heard. Unrelated note, don't leave your dog alone with the pies.
My child was born one month premature on Black Friday. I guess, technically, my wife got her pregnancy 12% off. Hooray, savings!
Saw a sign that read “Take 50% off of lingerie” on Black Friday. I feel like half off of Lingerie kind of defeats the point of the lingerie. It’s partial nudity at that point.
I adopted a child from the orphanage on Black Friday. Apparently, they did not mean 20% off of the price...On a lighter note, I was able to find some great deals on prosthetics!