The period is a very powerful piece of punctuation.
More often than you might think, in fact, even more powerful than a bold font-ed exclamation point.
Even several bold font-ed exclamation points.
Even then followed by a raging OMG emoji.
I was reminded of that this week.
Thanksgiving Day, to be exact.
A friend used a period, three, actually, to take me to task for being a turkey day downer.
Truth be told....
...guilty as charged.
That said (or pled, in this case), I would offer to the court of opinion that, first, it was very, very early in the morning. 4:30-ish. Early rising being a deeply grooved part of my daily routine, the residual effect/collateral damage of a couple of decades doing morning show radio and having to be all bright eyed, bushy tailed and broadcast ready by 6AM.
So I was scrolling and perusing and perusing and scrolling a full two and half hours before even the first magical movement of the Macy's gang floatin' and balloonin' down West 75th and Central Park West.
And were I inclined to pick fly shit outta pepper, I could make a pretty compelling case that, at that pre-crack of dawn time of day, it was, technically, already Thursday...but still a couple of hours away from Snoopy and Spiderman and that always pasty looking Pillsbury Doughboy delighting the masses, so my friend's implied accusation that I was a "day of gratitude and counting blessings" buzzkill was a big ol' case dismissed.
If only on the technicality that it was, arguably, still very late Wednesday night.
Very.
Very.
Late.
Still, I should, at this moment, add that I couldn't have cared less what time of day or night it was.
Or what day or night it was, for that matter.
There are some things that transcend, preempt, even call for total disregard for boundaries, be they borders, speed limits....or that old "...a time and a place for everything" chestnut.
I came this close to adding "trump" to that list.
But that would be redundant. And most likely confusing to a significant chunk of his misguided and misdirected devotees.
What flipped my switch and sent me to peeing in that big Turkey Day morning's Cheerios was the 'official Thanksgiving message' from the, at this writing, current President-Elect of The United States Of America.
Well now. In the archives of inspired and inspiring Presidential oratory, let's log that somewhere between "...the only thing we have to fear..." and "...four score and seven years ago..."
Just a skosh past "...ask what you can do for your country...".
If the purpose and/or goal of Donald's latest Nuremberg Address was to move those reading it to a feeling of passion and patriotism, count me amongst the passionate and patriotic moved.
I expressed said passion and patriotism by posting that picture of his oratorical magnificence....and added my own expression of how his expression had moved me.
The aforementioned friend, upon coming upon my holiday contribution to social media, expressed her own suggestion regarding my observations.
" Just. Stop. It's Thanksgiving. "
Three powerful periods in one four word sentence.
Clearly she was also passionately moved.
To make a point.
Three points, actually.
Point made.
It's a holiday. There's a time and place for everything.
Due respect notwithstanding.....
Yada.
Yada.
Yada.
Here's the thing about that.
Again, due respect, and forgive my putting 'words' in your four word return volley, but I think it reasonable to assume that you're tired.
Tired of all the bickering and bantering and bitching. Tired of all the hatred conjuring up all the venom and vitriol.
Tired.
Of.
Politics.
So tired, in fact, that you took a moment out of your busy Thanksgiving morning to remind me that it's enough already. Even if that "enough" lasts only twenty four hours.
You were saying, in just four succinct words...and three powerful periods....that if this madness has to continue for any length of time, then the very least we can do is call a brief cease fire on this day of expressing gratitude and counting blessings. Even if that cease fire only lasts from the first sign of Snoopy floating into frame until the third and last late evening turkey sandwich is scarfed down.
After all, on Christmas Eve 1914, the Brits and the Germans crawled out of their respective World War I trenches long enough to exchange pleasantries, tidings, even seasonal good wishes...before resuming their efforts to kill each other.
Seems like a no brainer that the very least we could all do...the very least....would be to put a cork in the political bitchin bottle while we put the parade and football on the flat screen and put the stuffing Mom put in the turkey into our smiling, non-partisan (for a day) mouths.
Here's a minor plot twist.
I.
Couldn't.
Agree.
More.
Here's a surprise bonus plot twist.
That's precisely why I said what I said...and posted it for global exposure....on this day of expressing gratitude and counting blessings.
Because I, like you, like many...many...of us...am also tired.
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