The War Against Thursday

November 30, 2021June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 3 Comments

I don’t know about you, but I’m taking a stand this year. I try to be as accepting and open-minded as the next straight white male, but sometimes things simply go too far and we have to dig in and say “ENOUGH!”

I call on you to join me in bringing back Thursday.

When the Pilgrims (or whoever) first came to this country in 1776, they made a point every week of observing Thursday four days after each Sabbath. Our Founding Fathers called it “Thursday” as well out of deference to the Holy Scriptures. For two thousand years, since Jesus first told all who thirst to come to Him, we’ve observed this “thirst day,” or “Thursday.”

Now, thanks to the godless left taking prayer out of schools and making it illegal to acknowledge gender, suddenly we’re not supposed to say it anymore. Well, my faith teaches me not to put up with such nonsense or things will get ugly! I believe in Thursday, and I’m not ashamed to say it.

It’s already started this year. I met some of the guys for lunch a few days ago. Not only was the service TERRIBLE (supposedly they were “shorthanded”), but as we were leaving the girl at the register said, “Have a nice day!”

I couldn’t believe it. We were there ON AN ACTUAL THURSDAY and here this person was, in OUR country, trying to pretend Thursday’s not even a thing! I almost let it slide, but I remembered something Tucker Carlson said about faith without hostility being dead, so I marched back to that register and stood up for some truth.

“Do you know what day it is?” I asked.

Clearly she was startled by this sudden display of godly patriotism. She had to glance at the American calendar next to the register before she replied. “Um… November 18th?”

Typical. Try to gaslight me with technicalities. Well, I wasn’t buying it.

“It’s Thursday, as in, ‘I wonder if ICE is open on THURSDAY?’ if you catch my drift?”

She was clearly rattled, but that happens sometimes when you take a stand. And today, Thursday was also Truthday! (Hey, that’s catchy – I may get some bracelets or bumper stickers or something made up with that. #Truthday!)

But it got worse from there. I got home to discover my daughter – my fourth grade, impressionable daughter – doing a worksheet designed to brainwash her into thinking the days of the week were named after various pagan gods. (I can only assume they now wanted her to pray to them or something.) Her teachers have clearly bought into this whole CRT thing, which I suppose is what I get for letting her attend a public school.

I even caught a mistake on the homework! Those unionized teachers can’t even tell the difference between Norse gods and movie superheroes! News flash: THOR is an AVENGER!

I was so angry I skipped even trying to talk to the teacher about it and went right over her head to Facebook, where I posted pictures of the assignment along with the name and home address of every administrator in the district. One of the moms in my Concerned & Righteously Angry Parents group told me she’s even reached out to our state representative and he’s proposed a bill to eliminate this sort of religious brainwashing in schools.

Why can’t these teachers just stick to the facts and stop trying to insert their own liberal biases into things? It’s obvious things have gone seriously downhill since we stopped teaching the Three R’s – reading, mathematics, and traditional Protestant theology.

It’s not just the schools, of course. The mindless idiots running Hollywood and that Rolling Stones magazine are just as bad. Notice, for example, how they’ve conspired year after year to celebrate every day of the week EXCEPT Thursday.

Songs celebrating Friday as a night of decadence or release are too numerous to mention. Katy Perry, the Cure, even the sleeper of the century, Rebecca Black, all push Friday like they’re just relieved Thursday is OVER! It’s the same for Saturday (Bay City Rollers, Guadalcanal Diary, Sam Cooke, Chicago, and dozens more) and Sunday (Etta James, U2, No Doubt, Oasis, and all the other wanna-be types trying to work their way up to relevance).

Even Monday gets more than its fair share. “Monday, Monday” was a big hit for the Mamas & the Papas in 1966. (It’s not enough that they wanted us all to do drugs and have sex – they tried to undermine the traditional family by replacing them with hippie musical acts!) It continued until “Manic Monday” was rammed down our throats by the Bangles in 1986. (Here’s something they don’t want you to know – this one was penned by that Prince fellow who later changed his name to a demonic symbol. He also claimed that HE would die for us, when in reality we know that’s only true of our brave men and women in the service or dressed in blue. Oh, or Jesus, I guess.)

The Rolling Stones recorded “Ruby Tuesday” in 1967. The Moody Blues had a hit with “Tuesday Afternoon” the same year. Lynyrd Skynyrd rubbed it in with “Tuesday’s Gone” in 1973 (good riddance, I’d say, but it just keeps coming back). Simon and Garfunkel got all sentimental about “Wednesday Morning, 3 a.m.” in 1963. That kept going through “Waiting for Wednesday” by Lisa Loeb in 1995.

There are literally hundreds of other examples. Hopefully, you’ve noticed the two things that should leap out at you about this list. First, it all started right after the Supreme Court made it illegal for children to pray in school in 1954. Second, there are NO SONGS ABOUT THURSDAY ANYWHERE IN THE HISTORY OF RECORDED MUSIC. Seems suspicious, doesn’t it? You’d think it would have come up at least a few times, what with it being a MAJOR DAY OF THE WEEK THROUGHOUT ALL OF AMERO-CHRISTIAN HISTORY until the left put a stop to it. Now you can be fired just for saying it!

I’m not afraid, though. In fact, I make a point every year of putting a calendar up in my kitchen with all SEVEN days of the week marked clearly on each and every month (because honestly, I’ve always believed that Thursday should be celebrated all year long). I’m a White American, dammit – I have a right to acknowledge Thursday no matter how much they persecute me or how hard they try to brainwash my kids out of believing in it!

So next time someone tells you to “have a nice day” or subtly tries to slip in “good morning” or (even worse) “buenos noches,” you look them right in the eye and let them know YOU call it THURSDAY – no matter what day of the week they and their pagan gods think it is.

Another Year Over (A New One Just Begun)

December 23, 2017June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

I’ll be honest with you. I’ve always liked New Year’s more than Christmas.

I know. I’m sorry, but it’s true.

Christmas is fine. Here’s to redemption, and kindness, and gifts that say, “I’ve tried to pay attention.” I like seasonal movies and music – the same 74 songs have been playing endlessly from my red flash drive since Thanksgiving, only a few of which are humorous and none of which involve singing animals or grandma’s demise. And I cry at the same parts of the same films annually – Bill Murray’s redemption in Scrooged, Michael’s efforts to stir up Christmas Spirit (so Santa’s sleigh can fly) in Elf, even Charlie Brown and that same, sad little tree every year since before I was born.

I don’t really do “wacky dysfunctional family” movies whether they’re Christmas-themed or not, so that’s eliminated most of the seasonal fare from the past decade or so. I won’t even talk about Bad Santa or anything crass and offensive but with Noels and Tannenbaums slapped on for cheap laughs. I do generally enjoy obscure claymation, but I’ve dialed back that genre since experiencing Nestor, the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey about five years ago. It was just so… sincere. And disturbing. And wrong wrong wrong, only with an actual Nativity anchoring the plot.

There’s just not enough nog in the fridge to risk something like that again.

So I’m not anti-Christmas. I am, however, a much bigger fan of new beginnings. Fresh starts. Rebooting to factory settings. The season may begin with Thanksgiving, but it doesn’t end until New Year’s Day. It’s practically a package deal, and rightfully so. Whatever else the Baby Jesus was about, His story is certainly about being made new, yes? About the possibility of having your failures and screw-ups washed away – at least metaphorically – and starting over. Being born… again.

Which is, you know… amazing.

But it’s New Year’s that makes it tangible and contains a less lofty, more literal rebirth. It’s not really about staying up until midnight, although I usually do, even now. I personally have zero interest in big parties or raucous countdowns, and while I’ve been known to have a drink or two, most of the time it takes about 2/3 of a single Redd’s Blueberry Ale before I’m asleep on the couch with my neck in some horrible position and fruitcake crumbs spilling down my Star Trek PJs.

And I don’t really make big resolutions – at least not any more than throughout the rest of the year. People talk about keeping that Christmas feeling all year long, but the holiday I’m most likely to emulate endlessly comes a week later.

The number of things I vow I’ll never do again times the number of healthy habits I swear I’ll get serious about next week minus the total occurrences of complete and utter failure equals the square root of why do I even bother – plus or minus self-loathing and hope.

But that’s the thing about reboots and new beginnings. It doesn’t really matter how much you’ve failed before. How often you’ve fallen short. How regularly you wish you’d just… ARRRGHHH! GET IT RIGHT, YOU $#%^*!

Because tomorrow you get up and try again. Because it’s a new morning. It’s a new week. It’s a new semester, a new season, a new job, a new place, a new chance, a new identity, a new direction.

It’s a new year. Like, literally.

I know it’s not miraculous – that’s the one from the week before. I know that a clean slate, like fresh snow, is in many ways just another canvas on which you’ll no doubt spill your badly-mixed watercolors, probably sooner rather than later. And it will smudge right away and smell funny and tear on the one side you thought was actually going rather well, because…

Because that’s just how real life is.

But for a moment, it’s new. For a moment, there’s hope. Enough of those, strung together… well, that’s kinda like ongoing possibility, isn’t it? And it’s not like you can keep doing everything wrong the same way forever – if nothing else, the sheer volume of monkeys and typewriters should produce moments of merit if you simply give it enough time.

And sometimes you get it right. Sometimes you do good. Sometimes you don’t suck. Sometimes… you’re a slightly better version of you.

When that happens, make a note. Mark it down. Build internal monuments, not to worship, but to remember.

That it went well. That it helped, and you mattered, and things were a smidgen better when you tried. That the risk paid off and the hurt lessened and she felt hope and he felt stronger and maybe…

Maybe that can happen again.

Mark it down, dammit – CLING TO IT LIKE LIFE. You’ll need it for reference, and sooner than you think.

Because you’ll probably mess something up again, or at least not catch something you should have caught. You’ll try to fix something and make it worse, or act like a jerk when you fully meant to keep it together. Maybe you’re not as creative as you wish or as smart as you like to think, or maybe you’re simply alarmingly average in the grand scheme of things.

Maybe you’re a screw-up and terrified of how much worse it could be if people really knew. Maybe you feel fat, or maybe you throw up to numb the chaos, or you wish you’d stayed in school or found a better job. Maybe you’ve hurt people and they’ve hurt you and you’re not even sure which parts are your fault anymore.

Maybe you’ll have high hopes for the new year but still find yourself tired and angry and wrestling with despair because what the hell is even happening anymore and why do more people not see it and how can we possibly respond when we’re just so inadequate and small and flawed and…

stupid

dirty

emotional

tired

numb

poor

tired

meek

scared

tired

worried

broken

tired

angry

tired

inadequate

tired

seriously so very tired?

But it’s a new year in a few weeks. And a new week even before that, and again after. It’s a new day tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.

And you’re surrounded by other inadequate, frustrated, flawed, wonderful folks who will probably make you crazy as often as they make you feel better. Help them. Encourage them. Push them. And they’ll do the same for you.

Don’t lie to them, or to yourself. You can’t fight darkness with lies (duh). But help them see what they’re doing right, and to notice when they do good. Sometimes they don’t suck. Sometimes… they’re that better version of themselves they always kinda hoped they might be.

When that happens, make a note. Share it when it feels right. Build some monuments, not to worship, but to remember. Be a Reminder, a Did-You-Noticer, and a Hip-Hip-Hoorayer for those struggling around you. And when you do fall short, or go so so totally wrong, know that morning is coming. A new week is near. Just keep restarting, dammit.

It’s a new year, kids. You can help. You can matter. Things can be a smidgen better because we kept trying, and because you helped someone else keep trying as well.

We just need enough monkeys. Bring your typewriters.

RELATED POST: Happy New Mirrors!

An Early Xmas Venti

November 17, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

You read somewhere online that Christians are mad about coffee cups. You already despise a certain breed of religious person, and this seems to fit that profile. You and a hundred others you follow rant about those nuts and their damn cup obsession, eventually blaming them for not doing more for the homeless, for trying to run your life and ruin your relationships, and for that one pastor who molested that boy.

3 days later you realize that at no point have you actually seen or heard anyone mad at a cup (unless you went to the trouble to track it down as part of your outrage over what the hell is wrong with those people). You decide it doesn’t matter because screw them, you’re an enlightened scientific type who refuses to believe crazy things without evidence.

Unless it’s a massive uprising over a coffee cup. That you accept on faith, because… Christians.

The most popular idealized version of ‘Christmas’ utilized by seasonal TV shows and movies, and aspired to by families who’d like very much to consider themselves ‘traditional’, was birthed in the early 19th century through the writing of Washington Irving and Charles Dickens.

Christmas trees, colorfully wrapped presents, family festivities and such, weren’t without precedent, but neither were they what normally came to mind every time it snowed in prior centuries. And those songs which seem so timeless now – perhaps even a bit quaint? Few existed before the 1800s. Many of the most popular are less than 100 years old.

In other words, travesties like “Run, Run Rudolph” or those Jingle Bells Dogs have just as much historical credence as “Angels We Have Heard on High.”

I know, right?

To further carve the ‘X’ out of ‘X-mas’, non-traditionalists are quick to remind us of the pagan roots of many yuletide traditions – throwing around terms like ‘winter solstice’ to explain why we shouldn’t care whether or not Target uses a glowing plastic baby Jesus in their displays.

But knowing the origins of something doesn’t automatically reshape our emotional expectations and ideals. We are not a people known for clinging to our own history, let alone that of the grander human story. Trivia from 2,000 years ago isn’t likely to compel us to give up our caroling, forsake our eggnog, or burn our DVDs of Scrooged, Elf, or the Die Hard Trilogy.

Our experiences and holiday yearnings aren’t about objective history or Druidic roots. They’re about hopes and feelings and stretching ourselves higher than we usually reach. They’re about redemption and clinging passionately to a faith which seems less and less generally understood with each passing year.

And yes, for many, they’re about the Baby Jesus and God becoming man to redeem us from our sins. Go ahead, godless and truculent – laugh it up. Your day is com-

Er… I mean, we just wish you could see the true joy of the Reason for the Season! Or something.

I’m not looking to defend an ‘Old Fashioned Christmas’ or to lament the cesspool of humanity that is Black Friday. Spend your holiday with family and feasting, in prayer and meditation, or naked on the couch Netflix-binging – it’s your call. This is ‘Merica!

But I’d respectfully suggest that the aches and fears some have over the ongoing de-Christing of the season may not be proof they are fascists, or oppressors, or Fox News morning show hosts (except the ones who are). It may simply be that they feel like something special is being taken away from them for reasons they don’t entirely understand.

Imagine that every winter, your homeowners association wants to make sure its members are prepared for the extended cold. Based on calculations you’ve never thought to question, a rep shows up at your door most years with a hot pizza, a pamphlet on staying warm, and around $400 in cash for groceries, electric bills, or unexpected expenses during the freeze.

One season they change the algorithm – something about family size, income, and who knows what else. That year your rep brings you a frozen pizza, a pamphlet, and $300 to get you through. It’s still appreciated, and it’s not like you rely on it to survive.

The next winter it’s $250. The following year they simply email you a PDF of the pamphlet. Soon there’s no pizza at all, just coupons for Papa Murphy’s. The total resources are still being allocated, but they seem to be going to people who haven’t lived in the neighborhood all that long – people who don’t always follow the unwritten rules of the community.

You’re still receiving more than you’ve paid in, and more than most neighborhoods do for their people. But as the rep hands you that $200 and the coupons, you feel violated. Taken advantage of. Not because you’re going without; because you’d grown so accustomed to having so much more.

Now imagine that a small, but angry and vocal, vanload of outsiders show up chanting and ranting about those nasty, hateful people trying to take everything you own and ruin the wonderful block party mentality which prompted the assistance to begin with.

It’s easy to see the absurdity from a distance. Even easier to succumb to fear and frustration when you’re cold and expected pizza.

The solution, at least in the allegory, is to find and get to know those new neighbors. Learn their stories. Chances are, given the opportunity, you’d have shared with them anyway. You’re not a bad person – you just… didn’t see it coming.

And it’s easy to confuse what you’re not being given with what you have and don’t wish to sacrifice.

‘Less’ looks and feels a whole lot like ‘loss,’ after all.

As to those of you rejoicing every time another Baby Jesus is kicked off the courthouse lawn, keep in mind that feeling first and rationalizing later is hardly exclusive to people of faith. It’s human nature – even for you I-heard-it-from-Neil-deGrasse-Tyson types.

You don’t have to accept others’ perceptions, but your blood pressure might go down a bit if you assumed the less-than-worst of those expressing frustration. Sure, it would be nice if reason and research won the day more often, but how many of us choose a spouse, an outfit, or even a restaurant only after a day in the library and a pro/con spreadsheet? We’re simply not that detached from our own perceptions and experiences.

I’m not sure we’d want to be.

So Eunice wishes people still said ‘Merry Christmas’, and Bob forwards that urban legend about candy canes representing Jesus and his cleansing blood. None of them took part in the Crusades. Very few of them ever sent Falwell money. Most of them have never yelled ugly things at anyone different than themselves.

And virtually none of them – almost zero – ever gave the tiniest thought to the design on Starbucks coffee cups.

Happy Holidays soon. And “Merry Christmas” starting in a few weeks as well – but only if it really bugs you.

Teacher Books (Gifts That Makes YOU Look GOOD)

November 13, 2015June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal ~ 1 Comment

I have a confession.

I’m not actually a big fan of education books. I’ll wait here a bit while the expressions of shock, disappointment, loathing, and calls for violence and bodily harm against me play themselves out.

No doubt much of this is a reflection on my personality and style. I’m all about good pedagogy and understanding our kids, but most of what I do halfway decently comes from years of trial and error, stumbling into success or personal humiliation, then adjusting and throwing myself back into the madness for lack of a better plan.

The other bits I’ve simply stolen from watching other teachers. I’m can only think of one activity I like which originated in a teacher book I read at some point. It’s a good one, but still…

Some people love edu-books, it seems. I’m fine with that, but several I’ve started and discarded struck me as rather pompous – driven by edu-babble and postulation – which I despise. Others commit what is in my opinion the unforgiveable pedagogical sin, and insist that because something has worked for them at some point in a particular context, it is All-Truth Do-Now Silver-Machine-Gun-Bullets-In-A-Belt.

I hate that.

Still, much smarter people than myself find great value in edu-title after edu-title. So maybe it’s just me.

That being said, there are several rather dramatic exceptions which I’d like to recommend, either for your personal consideration or as holiday shopping ideas for that aspiring #11FF in your world. Books make such a nice mid-level gift – as fillers to open along with the ‘fancy’ presents, or as modestly upscale purchases (by their very nature implying that both you and the recipient are at least KINDA smart) for people you care enough about to stuff some tissue paper and warm thoughts into that decorative bag you saved from last year, but won’t be spending Xmas morning drinking hot chocolate next to.

My Favorite Teacher Books:

The Zen Teacher (Dan Tricarico) – If you don’t follow Tricarico at www.thezenteacher.com, you might be thrown a bit by the title. He’s not kidding, if that’s what you’re wondering – he’s legit all up in the Zen. But neither is he spooky vague or touchy-feely nonsensical.

Rather, TZT is all about taking a breath and seeing our daily existence a bit more thoughtfully, and carefully… maybe even lowering our blood pressure a bit. Tricarico clearly knows the academia of Zen, but he’s also realistic about the practical grind of public education. He’s not looking to take you to another plane of reality; he’s offering very practical, good-humored insights into how you might bring more reality back to you.

A Favorite Passage:

These days it’s hip to be prepared for the zombie apocalypse. But sometimes it feels like the apocalypse has already happened. So many of us spend our days powering through life, racing from one thing to another, unable (or unwilling) to slow down, uninterested in waking up and seeing what is right in front of us. As a result, we often lurch through our lives like extras in George A. Romero’s Night of the Living Dead.
If you haven’t noticed these modern-day zombies, you may be one. I know I certainly can be. On any given day, you’ll often find me staring in to the eerie glow of my phone or tablet, glued to the Internet, or otherwise buried in my work.
As author Joseph Campbell said, “The unpardonable sin is the sin of inadvertence, of not being alert, not quite awake.” Calling inadvertence, the act of not paying attention, an unpardonable sin is a strong statement, but he’s right.

He’s The Weird Teacher (Doug Robertson) – Robertson is NOT Zen. He’s actually a bit of a spaz, near as I can tell. This text is a loose gathering of his classroom, student, and life philosophy, shared not as a pedagogical lecture, but as late-night drinking friends who are passionate about their convictions but so comfortable with one another they can pull no punches yet provoke no offense.

Reading Robertson makes you love kids and your job again on those days you have trouble remembering what that was like.

A Favorite Passage:

If I designed a teaching program for a university I would make a beginning acting class a requisite. What are we doing if not acting? The skill sets are very similar.
We have to memorize dialogue. We have an audience, possibly with us, possibly hostile, possibly only there to get out of the rain for a while. We have to keep the audience interested in what we have to say. We have to make complicated things comprehensible for the people in the way back of the room. And we have to do the same show over and over without getting bored.
Good actors connect with the material. Good teachers might not connect with multiplying fractions, but they know how to make it look like multiplying fractions is an interesting, amazing, important thing.

THE Teaching Text {You’re Welcome} (Doug Robertson) – In this much shorter book (i.e., stocking-stuffer or office party size), Robertson takes on a fully satirized persona of every pompous edu-enlightener. And, as with any good satire, it hurts how thoroughly he punctures our vanity, cluelessness, and desperation.

I found it particularly daring how often he chooses wry & dry over zany madcap – rather risky, but trusting his audience to ‘get it’ for a much bigger payoff. This tiny little book is brilliant.

A Favorite Passage:

I love to watch student faces lit with the soft, comforting glow of the computer screen, and adore seeing their furrowed brows as they work out complex equations in their heads.
I see your puzzled expression. Your head tilts, not unlike a confused Corgi wondering where the ball went. Of course in their heads. All skilled teachers impart upon their students the strategies and arcane secrets of mental calculation. Calculators and the vulgar phone have no place in the classroom and even less of a place in the testing environment.
If you cannot have your students, whether they be kindergarteners or high school seniors, rattling off facts from their heads, I question your dedication to the science of educating. I do not even allow my students scratch paper. Not even to roll up and scratch their backs with ha ha ha. (Humor has its place in the classroom, if used sparingly. This was an example of that. You’re welcome.)

Teaching Mythology Exposed: Helping Teachers Create Visionary Classroom Perspective (Starr Sackstein) – If you or your teacher friend prefer a kinder, gentler approach – especially one tailored towards the fresh-faced and hopeful (i.e., relatively new) classroom educator, Sackstein has just the thing.

TME is broken into manageable chapters tackling practical issues most teachers face at one time or another, with just enough encouragement and hard-won wisdom to keep it both positive and real. Get this for someone. Seriously.

A Favorite Passage:

We sometimes mistake a student’s attitude about compliance and authority with his/her ability to learn. By not focusing on the work (any or all products and proof of learning in our space), we fail the students by forcing them to jump through unnecessary hoops…
Kids learn in many different ways and just because they refuse to jump thorugh hoops in which they might not find value doesn’t mean they aren’t listening or that they aren’t capable. Don’t underestimate your students at any cost – talk to them first…
Education is not about justice; it’s about learning. Remember that when you are grading.

Curmudgucation: What Fresh Hell (Peter Greene) – Greene is less warm and fuzzy, but deeply cathartic for those of you fighting the good fight both within and without of the classroom. This collection of ‘best essays’ from his Curmudgucation blog is ideal for that well-read co-worker across the hall or any parent, administrator, or classroom teacher who appreciates sharp insight and a scathing turn of the phrase.

The man is a modern day Oscar Wilde, but with an actual soul.

A Favorite Passage:

The Wrongest Sentence Ever in the CCSS Debate… “Businesses are the primary consumers of the output of our schools, so it’s a natural alliance.”
As a semi-professional hack writer and fake journalist, I can tell you that it’s a challenge to fit a lot of wrong in just one sentence, but Mr. Golston has created a masterpiece of wrong, a monument of wrong, a might two-clause clown car of wrong. Let’s just look under the hood.
“Output of our schools.” Students are not output. They are not throughput. They are not toasters on an assembly line. They are not a manufactured product, and school is not a factory…
Talking about the “output” of a school is like talking about the “output” of a hospital or a counseling center or a summer camp or a marriage. When talking about interactions between live carbon-based life forms (as in “That girl you’ve been dating is cute, but how’s the output of the relationship?”), talking about output is generally nto a good thing.
“Primary consumers.” Here’s another thing that students are not. Students are not consumer goods…

This Is Not A Test: A New Narrative on Race, Class, and Education (José Vilson) – I conclude my recommended list with the most serious of the lot, a book by renowned speaker, blogger, and of course classroom educator @TheJLV. There are several good books on race and education which I could recommend, but this is arguably the most accessible and powerful no matter what the reader’s background or socio-political orientation.

Rather than choose a short excerpt to reproduce here, I suggest reading this chapter shared on Chalkbeat.org

I share my wisdom freely and without expectation of recompense, but keep in mind when you’re the Hero of Yuletide that you should share the blessings of Blue Cereal with all you encounter. That was the SECOND thing Ebenezer did after flipping some kid a coin to go buy that turkey. (By that point, of course, we’re all so teary-eyed and inspired that most of us completely miss the poignant scene in which he tweets links to favorite posts.)

In the meantime, go buy these books for people, and pick up one of each for yourself to read by the fire, drinking steaming hot nectar from your #11FF mugs. Feel free to make your own suggestions in the comments below. Just don’t include anything that sucks.