Black Friday is America's most honest holiday. It is immediately preceded by Thanksgiving, which is when Americans of all races, except the native kind, get together and exchange a mutual wink and a nod that they're giving thanks for the majestic land that God inexplicably bestowed upon them (but for realz, we really scored with this sweet continent we got here) and then have a turkey dinner. But Black Friday actually embodies the pioneer spirit that carried smallpox riddled settlers from one coast to the other. Like raiders in the night, shoppers drunk on red wine and diabetes crouch before the gates of the enemy's castle, or Best Buy, waiting to storm through the breach and rape and pillage and ask if this can be returned if it turns out your sister already has one.

America's founders would have been perfectly at home in such an environment. The only reason the Native Americans ever gave them some food to eat is to stop these insane pale-faced, pantaloon wearing, toothless swamp dwellers, from cannibalizing each other every time the mail boat from England showed up a day late. Guys, for serious, have some corn, and put down that kid's leg! It doesn't go in your mouth! Even after the nation had been founded, Black Friday survived every year of the American Civil War, and even the great depression, when there was nothing to fight over but Hoover Bread, and Hoover Pies, and Hoover Beer; all three are just variations of sawdust. Sad.