Also, I'm putting together my Labor Day playlist. So far I have "Workin' 9-5," "Work" by Rhianna, "I've Been Workin' on the Railroad," "I Ain't Gonna Work on Maggie's Farm No More," by Bob Dylan, "We Can Work it Out" by the Beatles and "Everybody's Workin' for the Weekend." Also Beyoncé's "All the Single Ladies." That song has nothing to do with the labor movement, but it fucking CRUSHES it on like, evvverryyyy playlist.
And the kids are psyched for the Labor Day Pageant and a visit from the Labor Rat. Which is actually this giant, inflatable rat? That hangs out on picket lines around NYC? (If you've ever lived there, you know him well). He leaves a basket of union cards on your doorstep and is a fixture in the Labor Day Nativity Scene.
Then I'm going to bring the kids down to the Union Hall to sit on Joe Hill's lap and tell him what terms they want in their collective bargaining agreement this year. (Please don't tell them he was executed by firing squad in 1915)!
Also don't tell them that their ACTUAL real life great-grandfather (a.k.a. Franma's dad) was part of the IWW and went to federal prison for 7 years for sedition when he organized copper miners during World War I!
Anyway, I'm off to pour myself a nice stiff glass of Labor Day nog. Don't get caught with me under the punch-clock (you know the custom! MWAH!) I'm gonna leave out some prison gruel for Joe Hill when he comes down the mine shaft, and head over to JoAnn Fabrics for my cat-ears and fishnet tights for Sexy Samuel Gompers.
Finally, don't tell my grandpa's ghost that I'm joking about Labor Day. That shit ain't funny.
Happy Labor Day everyone!