Thanksgiving is almost upon us! Today is going to be short, only eight hours. I have so much to be thankful for. It's been a good life. I have good friends and family, I've had dreams come true. Maybe I even made one or two come true, who knows? But there is one thing above all others, something I get up every morning, fall to my knees, and give thanks for: The fact that somehow I - and my entire generation - survived the '70s and '80s without disclaimers in commercials.
We watched animated toys... and somehow... we did not think the toys were real. There was no subtitle on the bottom to tell us, we just... knew. It's so frightening that we were trusted to use our own judgement. No one warned us that post-production tricks such as speeding up or slowing down the film did not mirror reality. But against all odds, we coped. And when we reached adulthood, there was - for a brief time - a point when we did not have to be warned that commercials with cars flying through the air across pits of flaming vipers used professional drivers on closed courses.
How did we survive without being warned that commercials are "dramatizations"? Every day, I am thankful that I made it through the early '90s without assuming drinking beer would magically make scantily clad bimbos appear. My brain might have imploded from the disappointment. But worst of all were the De Beers ads. I was young, I was impressionable... I came so close to buying a diamond, thinking it would transform me into a silhouette - hopefully with the ability to cloud men's minds. If only there had been a disclaimer!
May your weekend be full of happiness, Turkey, and shopping. Me, I'm looking forward to whupping my parents and little sister in pinochle. Peace out.