Thanksgiving was good.
I woke up early enough to watch the Macy’s parade kick off. I quickly remembered how all the lip-synched musical numbers made me anything but thankful, and pined for a version without hosts and more float coverage.
Then I met up with my mom and the brother I seldom get to see, and we headed over to my cousin’s house for the feast. His place lent a fine backdrop for milling around the kitchen or the football game.
I filled up on all the good stuff and drove back home for a nap, waking up to catch a late showing of Bobby. You know, that new movie not about Bobby Kennedy.
I finally lost interest in the Star-studded Emilio-Crashtacular when I saw the Crisco and Dole fruit cans in the stockroom of a kitchen scene. They had new Crisco and Dole logos — clearly not from the late 60’s. I then derided myself for being too critical by noticing this minutiae.
Don’t get me wrong, there were good bits, namely Sharon Stone and Demi Moore looking all normal with wrinkles covered by caked on makeup. But their dialog was indicative of the films major flaw: it was like the editors of Saturday Night Live were involved – losing the ability to know when to cut to the next scene.
All the ingredients for greatness were on the table, but the whole flick left me feeling empty.
Thankfully, the meal earlier in the day, did not.
Current music: Puffy AmiYumi “Thank You”