Labor Day. The average American may regard this holiday as the first sign of autumn, an indicator that he can no longer don his halcyon frocks of summer.

The US Department of Labor believes that on this day, “it is appropriate that the nation pay tribute to the creator of so much of the nation’s strength, freedom, and leadership — the American worker.”

Unfortunately, both this statement and this very day present much woe and needless agony for those of us dismantling the strength, freedom, and leadership of the country — the American non-worker.

While others are enjoying their glorious day off with barbecues and parades, the unemployed are mired in guilt, confusion, and endless self-doubt.

Indeed, it is a sad time to be unemployed in the land of opportunity. I recently spent several months living in France, a country full of people who seem to know how to celebrate regardless of employment status. Pour ça, ils ont raison.

Unfortunately, this joie de vivre escapes most Americans. Instead, we look with envious eyes to friends descending to office abodes, imbued with a sense of duty and obligation.

(Actual depiction of ‘labor’ in the coal mines)

Consequently, in light of my current status, I am unable to view Labor Day as anything but government propaganda to inflict a dark and dolorous stigma upon its forgotten citizens.

(Part of a US initiative to combat the ‘mad brute’–a well-known personification of unemployment which began when the work-weary public at large noticed that educated, unemployed men, many of whom were artists or writers, spent most of their time womanizing and arming themselves with the pejorative ‘baton of culture,’ which they often referred to in foreign languages)

(I envision this matronly madam of communism to say: “No excuses!  Get a job!”)

Instead, I turn to the old timers of literature for words of solace–in this case, Lord Alfred Tennyson in “The Choric Song of the Lotos-eaters”:

And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep…

Ah, why should life all labour be?

Devotedly,

The Opium-Eater

P.S. I am supposed to be working on my book, while instead, I have whiled away the last few hours on this blog entry, which in all likelihood none will read.