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What are you remembering on Memorial Day?

As I sit here at the end of Memorial Day, at the Portland International Airport, listening to drunken frat bro's talk about the posteriors of passing maidens, my mind can't help but wander to actions of military service men and women in the world's wars over the  yyears.  Don't ask me how it correlates, because it just doesn't.

I am remembering the stories of my Grandpa Prentice, and how he was put on trial for his life in front of a military tribunal for desertion during wartime.  His crime?  He went awol while saving the family farm from a blood sucking lawyer who was trying to fleece my great grandmother.  Not only was he acquitted, he ended up knocking out the guard who spat in his food while he was in the brig.  He received the purple heart after being wounded when the ammunition ship he was on was dive bombed by a Kamikaze.

Now as I listen to the bearded hipsters behind me talk of pabst blue ribbon, Bon Iver, and rolling their own cigarettes, I'm reminded of the story that Sgt. David Spears fooled me into believing when we were kids.  He told me, with a complete straight face, how his grandfather singlehandedly knocked a Nazi plane out of the sky with nothing but a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Physics told my 9 year old brain this was impossible, but my brain told physics to go straight to hell.  David's Grandfather was a hero, but not for that reason.  No matter how awesome that story would have been.

Anyway, enough of my ramblings.  Go hug a vet.  For real.


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Okay internet friends, I'm sure most of you know by now that thanksgiving holiday is nearly upon us. Like a beast from the depths it rises up, consuming the wooden ships of our pocketbooks. Like the great Krakken, it's tentacles of turkey en-wrap my innards with their tasty goodness. The great white mash potato shark eagerly gulps down the last remaining survivors of my will power. I am once again looking forward to being nearly crushed under my own massive weight after another feeding frenzy.

It's at this point that I'd like to make the announcment that I am starting a new holiday to compete with this yearly juggernaut of gravy and meat. I am calling it "Thankstaking." If you read that quickly it looks kind of like thanks stalking, which we'll get to later. I'm tired of the endless parade of people sucking up to each other, thanking each other for each menial deed done over the course of the year. If there's one thing I hate, it's a br…