Thanksgiving has come and gone. Despite the fact it was advertised well before the first Hillary Clinton Halloween mask even hit the shelves, Christmas is now upon us like a steaming chunk of frozen eggnog. Christmastime is another time for thankfulness and reflection, but it’s also a time when nerves shatter and bank books matter. For that particular aspect, your Mountain Times staff is unthankful. And since the holiday season does not start until December (at least according to this reporter), here are some other things for which we’re unthankful.

Scott Nicholson: The Demise of the “Weekly World News”

Good night, sweet Batboy. May flights of, uh, bat angels sing thee to thy rest.

I’m not thankful that the “Weekly World News” went out of business, depriving me of my most reliable news source aside from The Watauga Democrat. I knew the end was near when the masthead acknowledged that all stories were “works of fiction,” the last assault on libertarian journalism by a world that prefers its lies disguised as fairness and balance.

I’ll miss my favorite columnist Ed Anger, whose contrived Archie Bunkerian rants usually started something along the lines of “I am as riled as a hippie in a hair salon over the shenanigans of the left-wing media who run WWN out of business and sent my job to Malaysia, where the Satan-controlled Internet has killed my red-white-and-blue typewriter.” And since “Dear Dottie” went dark and her sarcastic and cutting romantic advice was forever lost to the world, I’m sure there are many lonely hearts who can no longer find solace from zingers like, “To M.C. in Muskogee: If I had one of those, I wouldn’t show anybody on a first date, either!” Without WWN, we’d never have known that Bill Clinton secretly met with aliens or that the end of the world has come and gone every six months.

But the saddest blow of all was the loss of Batboy. I ardently followed the chronicles of the doe-eyed misfit, and even sent him a “get-well” email when he was hospitalized following an assault by unfeeling federal agents. I cheered when he headed for Afghanistan to search caves for Osama bin Ladin, and I wept when he was forced to bite a woman in a bus station who tried to block his escape attempt. Have courage, my misunderstood friend, there’s always a roost for you in my heart and home.

Mark Mitchell: The List Goes On

Why can’t chocolate pie possess the health benefits of cabbage?

So, today we are talking about things of which we are not thankful for. I don’t see a need for a lot of explanation or commentary, just a potpourri of things that are not cool to me. And without further delay ... here we go.

Gossip; burned bread; mean-spirited bumper stickers that make the driver sound like what they are against (example: mean people suck); growing hair in the nose and ears but losing it on the head; glass half-empty people; mud-slinging politicians; this one wart that I have had frozen twice but still returns; when great musical artists like Jefferson Airplane or Phil Collins lose their edge and start making bubble gum/elevator music; that advertisers believe they have to use sex to sell everything from toasters to Fruit Loops; that everyone cannot afford health insurance; the psychology that turns decent people into impatient, rude drivers; that MTV doesn’t show videos anymore; reality television; that chocolate pie doesn’t possess the health benefits of cabbage; and finally, never mind, that’s enough.

Caroline Monday: Carolyn

In trying to think of what I am not thankful for, I came up with many of the obvious options. I’m not thankful for war, paper cuts, pot holes, hot beverages that burn your tongue, world hunger, cancer, messy handwriting, shoes that give you blisters and noisy neighbors. But, I figure most people are not thankful for those sort of things. I needed to find something less obvious to complain about.

What I am really not thankful for is when people call me Carolyn instead of Caroline. There is an important difference.

As I was growing up, there was a girl in my grade named Carolyn, who was a member of the popular crowd and who participated in the mean activities of that crowd.

I can’t say that Carolyn was really any more mean to me than the rest of the popular crowd, or that her meanness consisted of much more than the occasional belittling comment. But she, or rather her name, has come to symbolize how awful that mean crowd made me feel.

I probably would not even remember Carolyn if her name was not so similar to mine and if I did not hear it nearly so often as people mispronounce my name. “I am not Carolyn!” a little voice inside my head says. I am not that mean girl and I am not that old Caroline who would let another person make her feel so bad about herself.

As I get older, that little voice becomes quieter. I am sure that just as I grew out of my ungainliness, Carolyn and the rest of that crowd grew out of their adolescent meanness. I have no ill wishes for any of them and, in a way, I am glad that I took that journey. It made me who I am, which, for the most part, I like.

While I am not thankful for times when I am called by the wrong name, I am very thankful for people who take a moment to ask for the correct pronunciation. That little bit of effort means so much more to me than they will probably ever know.

Frank Ruggiero: Big Lots shopping carts at New Market Centre

’nuff said.

Damn those Big Lots shopping carts. While I have nothing against Big Lots and the concept of shopping carts (on which some graduate student must have written a thesis), these bright orange, four-wheeled nuisances are more common than rats on Howard Street, but maybe not quite as big. Perhaps my unthankful-ness should not be directed toward the carts themselves, though, unfortunately, they seem to suffer the brunt of the blame, since they’re the ones sitting abandoned in the middle of any random parking space at New Market Centre.

It never fails. If a parking spot at New Market looks too good to be open at a certain hour, more often than not there’s a Big Lots cart involved. While some blame should go to Big Lots for not offering proper cart corrals (yee-haw) in the parking lot, I blame parking lot lethargy, which dictates that even if such corrals were present, patrons would not use them. The question is how much trouble is walking a couple yards to push an unburdened, empty cart between two metal rails, even after these same people hauled that very same cart, only fully-laden with knick-knacks, paddywacks and what-have-you, over every square foot of the store?

Apparently, the answer is lots. Big lots.

Jeff Eason: Leaf blowers

This thing blows.

If there is one thing that I am not thankful for at this time of year it would have to be the invention of the gas-powered leaf blower. If you are looking to purchase an expensive, noise-polluting, air-polluting device that doesn’t effectively do the job for which it was made, then the leaf blower is for you. I’ll take an old-fashioned rake over this monstrosity any day of the week. If you’ve been to any University of North Carolina campus (including ASU) during the past month, you have probably witnessed legions of state employees armed with gas-guzzling leaf blowers noisily blowing leaves around. The leaves do not end up in piles or in compost bins. They end up in gutters or streets where they lie until Mother Nature once again blows them onto campus. The next morning the entire cacophonous process begins again. Aaargh!

Melanie Davis: Shopping carts with broken wheels

Squeaky cartwheels make shopping adventurous, not to mention acrobatic.

I consider the things I am not thankful for to be pet peeves, of which I have a very select few. I live by the words “it could be worse.”

There is one pet peeve, however, which I cannot rid myself of – shopping carts with one bad wheel. Without fail, I seem to select the worse cart every time I go shopping. If you ever see a person trying out a few carts in the Lowes entrance, that’s me. Be patient, I am trying to prevent veering off and running into fellow shoppers.

The problem lies in carts that appear to have four perfectly functioning wheels until it becomes loaded. The weight of items brings out the worst in shopping carts. I am happily going through the aisles, choosing grocery items for the next few weeks, when suddenly it happens. I am all over the place like a driver on a cell phone.

It is very distracting and causes me to forget some important item. I am too busy wrangling the shopping cart around the store to check my list, not to mention anxious for the shopping excursion to end.

Retailers should perform regular maintenance check-ups for shopping cart wheels. Obviously, I don’t buy as much when I opt for the basket or simply carrying items. A low-cost investment in a few cans of WD-40 and cleaning the wheels occasionally would be greatly appreciated.