Credit....Where Credit is Due!

Tomorrow is the universal day in which we are supposed to give thanks for all that we have.  However, in our consumer based society, we sometimes forget all the things that we are supposed to be grateful for.  Let's face it, some of us aren't very good at giving thanks, we tend to dwell on the negative.  As my Aunt Sylvia used to say, "If it wasn't for the pain, I wouldn't know I was alive".  However, I feel compelled to point out that it would behoove us as Americans to do a better job of giving credit to those who deserve it.  This seems more substantial than just a generic once-a-year "thanks" to an amorphous higher power who may or may not have interceded on our behalf  while we gorge on canned gelatinous cranberry by-product.  There are many unsung heroes among us, and their contributions need to be recognized.

For openers, how many people know who wrote the Constitution?  It was of course James Madison.  I wonder how many people know the name of the love-child produced by Kanye West and "something" Kardashian compared to those who know the name of the man who literally gave you the "Bill of Rights".   To be fair, Madison was always a "try-hard" who often lacked the respect you would think a man who wrote the Constitution would merit.  One of Madison's problems in my opinion was his stature, or lack thereof.  Madison holds the distinction of being our shortest President, only 5 feet 4 inches tall.  This was despite the fact that men wore those "buckle-shoes" with the little heel on them, in the late 18th century,  sort of like Prince or "&" or whatever sign he goes by today, which allowed Madison to artificially elevate.  The problem was that since all men "elevated", Madison couldn't grab the edge he so desperately needed.
 "Little Jimmy" MadisonThe Purple One...ready to debate the Elastic Clause

It was not lost on the other Founding Fathers that Madison lacked vertical distinctiveness.  George Washington, all 6 feet 2 inches of him would often egg on the other Constitutional Conventioneers in taunting the diminutive one.  Washington recorded this entry in his diary in early 1787:

"February, 1787, me, Patrick Henry, and that old codger Ben Franklin snuck up behind "Tiny Jim" and swiped his "beloved" Constitution from him and proceeded to taunt him by holding it just above his reach over his head, only returning the scribe  when he would admit, that we were indeed, "His Daddy's"!"

It appears that Randy Newman may have been on to something when he stated through the gift of song, that, in fact, "Short People...got no reason, to live"  Madison may have been better served by history if he were to have been perhaps our fattest President.  That distinction went to the "Commander in Cheese-whiz" William Howard Taft.  Taft, of the oversized bathtub, specifically designed for his corpulent stature, tipped the scales at over 350 lbs.  It is said that behind Taft's back, T.R. or Teddy Roosevelt, the avid hunter referred to his protege' as "Big Game".
Ah the Pocket Watch, a lost fashion statement!


Another contributor to the betterment of our society who have often toiled in obscurity is the talented Hibachi Chef.  This creature is often found in your standard issue Japanese Steakhouse.  I deem them praise-worthy since no matter which Japanese Steakhouse restaurant  you go to, and I mean anywhere from California to South Carolina, to Buffalo to Intercourse, Pennsylvania, you get the same show, with the same shtick.  We once went to a Japanese Steakhouse in that famous bastion of Japanese culture... Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, where we had a Hibachi Chef who looked like he just resigned from his job as "Pit Crew" chief at Daytona preparing to give us the "stir-frying experience of our lives".  Sadly, there was a lack of legitimacy.  Perhaps, it was when he asked us in a voice that sounded like Gomer Pyle whether we wanted more Saki?  But, in fairness, the guy built a pretty fair fiery onion tower.
Not Legit!
Legit!


Um, well he is building the Onion Tower!

Whichever Japanese Steakhouse you go to, the food tastes the same, they flick the shrimp into your mouth, they shoot Saki at you,  the chef plays with the big knife, catches an egg on his hat, and it costs a fortune.  Remarkable consistency!

My favorite unsung hero shall remain unnamed and uncredited.  It goes out to whomever invented the hat.  The hat is in many ways mankind's greatest accessory.    I'm going to throw a morsel of credit to the "chosen people", the Jews.  They have always believed in keeping their heads covered, but the custom has continued to evolve and grow ever since biblical times.

I believe it was George Carlin, the great comedian and curmudgeon who pointed out that it is hats that separate man from animal, since animals never wear hats, unless a human puts one on them.
Dogs shouldn't be Knick fans since they don't live that long, and the Knicks haven't won anything in 41 years.

I love baseball hats in particular, although if you ever take a good look at them, they're really just Yarmulka's with a brim.  Yarmulka's are good if you suffer from male pattern baldness, they fit right over the bald spot.
Even the Pope knows that.

Hats can define our moods as well as explain our careers.  A top hat means you're going out for a night on the town....or a chimney sweep.  A bowler means you're a card player, or the fat guy in a comedy team:
         

Santa needs a hat for his costume to be complete, as do Pirates, Police Officers, Firemen, and Choo-Choo Engineers.   So do maids, Chauffeurs, farmers, (Vietnamese or American), and Communists:
 Workers of the world can't unite...unless they have a stylish chapeau

I'm still partial to the baseball hat.  You can support any cause or team you want, and people don't necessarily assume you're bald.  And, if it worked for the immortal Oscar Gamble, then it's suitable for anybody.
Whew, talk about "Hat-Head"!