Karen Heller | Thanksgiving so warm, but woe the day after

You know how it is, one day America is offering thanks, pass the gravy, then the next day it's off to the mall. And the race toward debt.

The week is basically the yin and the yang, the yam and the yech, the ecstasy and the idiocy of our contemporary culture.

When, precisely, did Black Friday become an Olympic event, a national pastime and a day to warm the cockles of Ben Bernanke's troubled heart?

Thanksgiving is a grand holiday, possibly the best. It's a time to gather, to be grateful, to be with family and loved ones who, on occasion, actually manage to be one and the same.

Barring that, it's a moment to experience Dysfunctional Family Theater, collect bad behavior anecdotes to swap with friends, and be eternally thankful that you don't have to endure every Thursday with your crazy cousins.

Thanksgiving is the rare holiday that's inclusive of all Americans and almost everyone has the means to celebrate. It isn't about money. It's about comfort, the dressing rather than dressing up, and is devoid of grotesque sweaters and rank candles.

Which is where Black Friday comes in.

This year, many retailers will serve food as a way of enticing consumers through their doors, as if you didn't have enough to eat Thursday. Guess the thinking is the more fuel in the tummy, the more goods at the register. Like it's a marathon or something. Which it is.

Wal-Mart promises "Secret In-Store Specials," one of them being that you won't be able to move. Though we have this miraculous consumer development called "online shopping," this won't stop millions from storming the mall gates a day after offering humble thanks for the bounty of our lives, thereby negating the peace, relative simplicity and true meaning of Thanksgiving in less than 24 hours.

Last year, Americans spent almost $9 billion on Black Friday, an increase of 6 percent over the year before, an amount almost equal to the gross domestic product of Niger, among the poorest countries on Earth.

I don't state this to be a sourpuss - I like presents as much as the next person - but to place the pack mentality in some perspective. Perhaps in an attempt to tap my inner masochist, I've spent more than one Black Friday observing the sheer terror that is the Times Square Toys R Us. It's obvious there, as it is at so many other stores on Black Friday, that the people stuffing their bags aren't exactly managing directors of Goldman Sachs. What you are observing, and stores will soon celebrate, is the mass acceleration of debt.

Credit cards are mythic beasts. There is no such thing as easy credit, unless you happen to have a generous uncle. There is only money lent at exorbitant rates, ones that wouldn't be out of line for a Damon Runyon bookie.

Debt becomes us. And the dream of America, that anyone can lease a Lexus and live like a Goldman managing director, is just that - a dream. We don't want to live by our means. We want to gamble by living far beyond them. We're lifestyle junkies.

Thanksgiving is a beautiful and wonderful moment, and we should be grateful for everything we have. The day after, you should carry that spirit forward, by spending time with family and loved ones, especially if you're fortunate to have them be one and the same, by going to the movies, listening to music, walking in the woods, reading, eating leftovers, sharing and giving of your time, not your credit cards.

Racing to the mall, spending money you don't have on things you don't need, the evanescent effluvium of consumer culture, is counterintuitive, a toxin after Thanksgiving's good will.

Black Friday is all about owning and having, discomfort and speed, getting there first. We're putting ourselves through emotional whiplash and - correct me if I'm wrong - Christmas is still more than a month away.