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Emerald Thanksgiving Columns I: Credit Where It’s Due

If it’s November, it must be time for another one of these goddamn articles, which Joe Bechard could presumably write in his sleep by now.

Blah blah consumerism, blah materialism, blah American culture sucks blah. Our take-take-take lifestyles, selfish quest for luxury, insatiable thirst for more, needless accumulation of possessions, and search for the holy grails of convenience and status have led us to gorge ourselves into food-induced paralyses [sic], flail desperately to live the good life, become wasteful and improvident beings, and get more than enough food in our faces.

Meh. Some people just can’t stop with the self-flagellation for even five minutes, can they? But this time it’s all in the service of something, namely the last paragraph:

And that is why, while everyone else is sweating a gravy funk and dodging flying rivets from splitting pants, I’ll be spending this Thanksgiving cold, naked, shivering and sobbing in my empty bathtub.

Whereupon I sprayed coffee out of my nose. This raises an interesting question: Has Bechard been parodying himself all this time? Did we just fail to notice? Maybe that’s a stretch, but I’m feeling generous. That’s a great ending. Joe Bechard, I salute you.

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