We are between Halloween and Black Friday, and are now ending November, which is the most Americanized month in Spain. “Americans, we welcome you with open arms…” If Mariano Rajoy would have convened the elections for Wednesday, Nov. 3 — in the style of the American presidential elections — this would have already been amazing. It’s all gone pear-shaped, in English. The good thing about Americanizing oneself is that you can learn a lot of English. Black Friday follows Thanksgiving, and I don’t know what we are waiting for to have Thanksgiving in Spain. Actually I do know why. Thanksgiving is a national celebration, and here we are bad with national celebrations. The celebration of our town is sacred, without a doubt (long live the Virgin!), but a new national celebration would be the object of much political controversy. Why? For who? Why do we need to celebrate if there is nothing here, nor has there ever been something, that we should celebrate? There would be separation and protests, just the opposite of what is intended.
On Thanksgiving, North Americans gather to eat with their families. The truth is that they live very separated, miles or kilometers away from each other, parents unconnected to their children, as we see in the movies. Besides, they eat in habitual shame. We, on the other hand, are always together and eat in delight — for the time being. Why on earth would we need another national holiday to be with our family and eat? And we’re not talking about saints, which we already have a ton of, and whom we honor by … eating (and drinking) divinely.
On Thanksgiving, Americans roast a turkey and scarf it down — a turkey, big deal. We already have our Christmas turkey, and the rest of the year, we do not pay much mind to it. We add slices of turkey breast, with or without salt, as cold cuts and serve them to children or older people, while we attack the paletilla de jamon (pig’s front leg).
Following tradition (Americans hardly have history, but have replaced it with tradition), President Obama kindly pardoned an 18-week-old turkey. How fortunate. The domesticated turkey, according to what I discovered, will live between 10 to 15 years (that is, of course, if it is not finished off in the oven beforehand). This pardoned turkey is going to have the opportunity to meet Obama’s grandchildren, if the occasion ever presents itself.
Americans pardon a turkey before it is sentenced to the electric chair — traditions; I say mentalities. Every now and then we pardon a fierce bull, or clever sharks who have evaded the tax collector, and during Málaga’s Holy Week a prisoner with a good heart.
Finde Chollo* — this could be our representation of Black Friday, so that the whole world can understand it. But of course, we would lose the profound depth found in English.
Young people are familiar with black because of Black Cards (how sad). Older people became familiar with black because of “Paint It Black” by The Rolling Stones and “Black is Black” by Los Bravos (experts in redundancies). This is obviously before Boskov determined that soccer is soccer.
They call it Black Friday, but instead want to say discounts. When I was younger, a charlatan would come to Sanfermines**, discounting everything he sold. Not for five, not for three, not for two, not for… Ultimately, sales (and purchases) are quackery. It appears quite grim.
*Editor’s note: This means approximately bargain weekend in Spanish.
**Editor’s note: This refers to a famous Spanish festival.
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