First
Ghost: Take care young
Ebenezer. I am the Ghost of Thanksgiving
past.
Ebenezer: My
name is Horace.
First
Ghost: What ever. . . I
am here to remind you of the joy you once felt at
Thanksgiving.
Horace:
OK, but get me back before the
football game.
Magically, the
ghost and I are whisked away to scenes of my youth.
Mother is in the kitchen mashing potatoes and basting a
turkey. My sisters-in-law are fighting. It started
with their kids (who are already outside playing together
again) and escalated to the mothers who just can't seem to let
it go. Dad is watching football on a 17" black
and white television, while one of my brothers is trying to
talk the other into investing in a carwash business.
Other relatives begin to arrive and are soon arguing politics,
playing poker and making toddies. After dinner a
pudgy kid seated in front of the 
television set is gnawing on a turkey leg,
just like Mickey Mouse is doing on the small
screen.
First
Ghost: See how happy you were
Ebenezer?
Horace: That's
not me.
First
Ghost: Sure it is. Remember?
You thought Thanksgiving was great.
Horace:
If you say so.
The First Ghost
suddenly fades and just as suddenly a second ghost
arrives. This ghost is badly shaken from his trip so I
offer him a glass of brandy which he gulps down and then pours
himself another.
Ghost
Two: Ok. The work order
says standard Christmas flashbacks.
Horace: I think
this is a Thanksgiving deal. Thanksgiving Past,
Thanksgiving Present . . .
Ghost
Two: The work order says
"Christmas." We can't just go changing it to
Thanksgiving at the drop of a hat.
Two brandies and
a phone call to the headquarters later, Ghost Two leaves,
promising to get back to me after the holidays. His
departure is followed by a knock at the front door. It
is the Third Ghost.
Horace: Why
didn't you just appear like the other ghosts?
Third
Ghost: Be careful Ebenezer. I am
the Ghost of . . .
Horace: Horace.
. . My name is Horace!
Third
Ghost: Whatever. . .
Suddenly the
ghost and I are in a beautiful hotel dining room, tastefully
decorated in the spirit of the season. Family is all
around me, while servers are busy bringing our banquet.
Two nieces are talking about a food drive they just completed
for Girl Scouts. Mother is not in the kitchen. She
is at the table enjoying a wonderful visit with Aunt
Helen. My sisters-in-law are arguing about a fight their
children started last Thanksgiving.
Horace: Excuse
me Mr. ghost, but who's that little guy at the end of the
table?
Third
Ghost: That's Tiny Tim. He's
included with all scenarios this month. No extra
charge.
The Third Ghost
gestures dramatically to our beautiful surroundings.
Third
Ghost: Behold Ebenezer. This
will be your fate if you do not mend your ways.
Horace: What's
wrong with this? Everything is perfect.
Third
Ghost: Well there is the matter of
the bill. What's wrong with this.
The ghost hands me a
small leatherette folder containing a substantial bill for our
Thanksgiving dinner.
Third
Ghost: Will that be cash or
charge? I will act as your cashier.
Horace: Can
I charge this to the room?
Third
Ghost: Oh, most Certainly.
Horace: Great.
How do you spell Ebenezer?
System, by Ed Tasca, Volume 4, umber
11, October 24, 2004): I agree with it's content (I
think). However, I would like to suggest that all
political parties be abolished and that the U.S. face reality
and incorporate. We should search for and elect a
C.E.O. We'll need to offer an attractive and competitive
compensation package (including perks) to attract the right
person to the job. We will also need a board of
directors. The rest of us can become
stockholders. 
it, a government lead by politicians
is old fashioned. Besides, being a political head of
government is too hazardous, thereby leaving only the
less qualified, undereducated or stupid to try for the
position. All of the smart people are already
C.E.O.s. 
offering flights over Mt.
St. Helens as their first "Daily Special."
The Newest plane in their
fleet, a 1947 Piper CJ Cub, offers in-flight cocktails, Roland
Burgers and entertainment by the well known steward-ness, Ms.
Goldie Lace-love.
