It’s Thanksgiving again, a complicated holiday for a lot of folks for many different reasons. I certainly have mine. Tradition is a funny thing and often gets expressed as a desperate attempt at the impossible: to sustain the existence of an immutable, geologically timeless structure on a human terrain defined by the changing whims and tastes of living people, who are anything but static.
Thanksgiving is particularly ridiculous in this regard. The structural template is all wacky. Few groups of people fight over the narrative of reality like families, so how about we add the extra struggle of traveling across a politically Balkanized country run by insane idiots for a sit-down meal whose foundational story is one of the more absurd examples of childhood brainwashing. I have more sympathy for adults who believe in Santa Claus than I do for those who earnestly celebrate the bloody nightmare that began when a bunch of religious perverts escaped England because the rest of the population got sick of them telling everyone to stop enjoying Christmas and having fun.
We Americans are true innovators in our ability to completely invent our history and mythology as a defense mechanism against learning anything about ourselves. We are uniquely incapable of self-reflection, which is probably why our most successful leaders are rewarded their positions as a prize for most effectively embodying our collective lack of object permanence. This would all be just kinda funny if the engines that power our national delusions didn’t run on a worldwide scale of industrial suffering. Instead, it’s a tragicomic irony with the vast destructive scope of a supernova.
Just look at the latest collapsing mega-pyramid scheme of U.S. innovation, AI. After fake internet money and legalized sports gambling failed to juice an economy thats main production base is in the arms industry, our tech and market Brahmins have put all the chips into a sleazy concept whose framework gobbles up fresh water, melts our power grids and poisons our air to create fraudulent, ugly slop to replace the dreams of the artists it is plagiarizing and pillaging into ruin. Ask Grok and Chat GPT to smooth your brain and cut you from the shackles of thinking. That’s what real freedom means, right? Oh, and it spies on everyone, too, largely in the service of a massive privatized police state with a newly bloated budget designed to replace what little accountability it had with a militarized arsenal for the anonymous squads of Koopa Troopas currently terrorizing our streets with immunity. AI is a dream machine that cores out the soul in human creativity while accelerating fascism and climate disaster. Honestly, can you think of anything more American?
I can: It’s our broad cultural pantheon of iconoclasts. A moveable feast of friends and freaks whose architects have spent our nation’s brief history pushing back against the blunt stupidity of the mainstream narrative. Our fabulous and vulgar pavilion of dreams — the only structure in the universe that could comfortably seat John Waters, Wesley Willis, Grandma Moses and you and me — might be shaking a bit but it hasn’t collapsed yet. And for that I am thankful. Take care of each other and, most importantly, don’t eat or sleep with anyone who likes it sloppy AI-style.
Thanksgiving
It’s Turkey Day, you turkeys. Whether you are helping other people or giving yourself a second helping, or anything in between, do it with gusto. And for anyone having a sit-down meal, be thankful that Calvin Coolidge decided to adopt the raccoon a supporter from Mississippi sent him instead of fattening up and eating her for Thanksgiving, as was intended by the sender. Otherwise you might be enjoying a nastier culinary tradition than dry turkey instead of appreciating the shared luck of you and Rebecca, the famous White House raccoon of 1926.
Friday
Here’s a free post-prandial two-fer for those of you looking to have some fun in Blue Lake tonight. First up at 6 p.m., you can enjoy Band O Loko playing the reggae to pop and surf rock spectrum at Mad River Brewery. For afters, head over to the Logger Bar, where DJ Deaf-Eye will be spinning the real dancehall Jamaican deep cuts at 9 p.m.
Saturday
Another two-fer tonight to make up for the lag in the week. Over at Savage Henry Comedy Club it’s a Metal Saturday with Denver doom band Primitive Man,who are touring on the back of Observance, their latest release on Relapse Records. Also on tap are Guiltless, Barren Altar and Otay:Onii. Doors open at 7 p.m. and tickets are $20, $15 advance.
If you have an itch for all things Jerry, head over to the Basement after 8:30 p.m., where you can enjoy the Magnificent Sanctuary Band doing its Garcia tribute sets for $10.
Sunday
How about some musical theater to celebrate the transition from the month of mists to the season of lights? The Ferndale Repertory Theatre is presenting a matinee of its ongoing show of The Wizard of Oz. This show certainly needs no introduction, so when you settle in to enjoy one of the most familiar tales of the American canon, consider looking for some of the more esoteric aspects, like if the gold standard and fiat currency play a role in the plot and scenery, along with many more allusions from the political scene of the beginning of the 20th century. Speaking of currency, tickets are $22 for general admission, $20 for students and seniors, and $18 if you buy in a bulk pack of 10 or more.
Monday
Synapsis is hosting the temporarily displaced folks from the Creative Sanctuary for one of its creative jambaroos tonight at 6 p.m. This evening’s show, hosted by Sanctuary mainstays Katie Belknap and James Zeller, is called Yes Jesters! Cabaret, and so far as I can tell, it’s a slightly bawdy evening of clownishness and musical fun with a dinner-theater element, with provender served at the opening bell courtesy Chef Dave from Bernadette’s Cafe. Sounds like a good time and, with tickets going for a sliding scale $5-$25, not too hard on the piggy bank. Secure your spot with a virtual RSVP at sanctuaryarcata.org.
Tuesday
Crickets and tumbleweeds carried on a wind that’s howling across a continent full of bony leftovers curdling toward expiration.
Wednesday
In 15 days it will mark the 40th anniversary of the release of Brazil, Terry Gilliam’s monstrous comedy of errors set in a decayed fascist state where nothing works and the only place to escape the rotting, dirty water doldrums of inept bureaucracy is the vast inner-space dimension of dreams. The Arcata Theatre Lounge is putting this one up on the big screen tonight, with doors at 6 p.m., the show around 7 p.m. and a raffle in between. The cost is $6 to get inside, $10 to leave with a poster.
Collin Yeo (he/him) has a new blog at allcatsaregray.substack.com, where he is serializing an original horror story, among other things.
This article appears in Holiday Gift Guide 2025.