Noonan at Noon

Blacker Than Black Friday

Greetings Criqueteers,

Here’s hoping your holiday is quite the rager (whether the “raging success” variety or “raging failure” variety, only you can be the judge.)

As long as you end the evening with good company and a good digestif then you’ve done well by yourself. Sidenote: I’ve found Fernet or Cointreau to be especially soothing on a turkey-taxed constitution, or Amarone if you want to stay with the grape, but no doubt you have your own elixirs to assist in your state of unfastened pants.

Yes. Yes. Yes. And, well, that last one probably couldn’t hurt.

Indeed, all’s well that ends well. But beware the dark day on the horizon.

Black Friday.

That’s right Nigel, there’s none more black.

Permit me one bit of advice: Stay At Home.

Black Friday. That dark night of the American soul. Filled with teeming hordes who, after slurping up their last slice of apple pie, were not content to simply sit and end the day watching football on their flat-screens – but decided to line up outside a box store and buy entirely new flat-screens altogether.

Not you. Don’t go.

“Clean up aisle 3: M&M Sweatshirt Lady.”

Maybe it’s not so much the thrill of the stuff, as it is the thrill of trampling your fellow man in a mad dash to save $50 on a toaster that warbles out the Star-Spangled banner as it emblazons each slice with the visage of the patron saint of baking (St. Honoratus, just for the record – which, you must admit, is a pretty sweet name.)

Anyway. Don’t go.

Remember, these adults are fighting over toasters.

Stay home. Rest. Drink in your surroundings, chase it with a bloody mary and maybe buy a few awesome shirts.

(Full disclosure: you may have noticed I write for Criquet. These fine fellows have a business/philosophy that is to make very nice golf-like threads and trade them for a bit of money. They make small amounts of very good things, rather than large amounts of bad. By all means, support them heartily, and know that even they will be spending Friday far, far from the sadness of the shopping plaza. )


Keep it classy out there, my Criquet comrades. And be the ball.


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