I am going to beg you to make a charitable donation this year, even if you have never done so in the past.

What Obama unveiled in announcing his economic advisers was a “dream team” of superstar economic and market thinkers that America and the rest of the world have been waiting nearly two months to see assembled to confront the economic crisis.

Earlier this year I debated The New York Times’ worst story of the decade. John McCain’s non-affair affaire? The Boy Scouts “alienating so many Americans”? My pick: “The Bride Wore Very Little,” urging brides to seem “more vamp than virgin.” Revision now seems requisite, given the Times’ latest example of why liberal is a dirty word:  columnist Charles M. Blow, urging Republicans to spurn values issues that once made it a majority.

Some hear the call of God to help the helpless. Some hear the cry of the orphan and are moved to action. Many organizations try to help, but with more than 130 million orphans across the globe, the problem is bigger than any organization can solve.

Black Friday? More like Bleak Friday. Doesn't have to be that way. Doesn't have to be a frantic free-for-all. Doesn't have to be a miserable mob scene.

All I wanted to do was buy a new set of tires for my pickup truck. Thanks to the crisis in credit and the death spiral of Detroit, it will now take an act of Congress to bail out the automotive industry’s Big Three before I get any new rubber to hit the road.

With Thanksgiving over, I suppose I can go with the flow and be just like everyone else. Yep, time to turn on the Christmas music, watch a few themed movies and really get crackin' on finishing my shopping.

Today, I give thanks for the most American gift of all, the bailout. No other country is so generous in rewarding failure. Taxpayers should be grateful to have earned that distinction.

As if you haven’t had enough leftovers this week, here are a few items I wasn’t able to squeeze into recent columns.

Holiday wishes apparently do come true — if you wait long enough.

A worldwide recession now appears inevitable.

A couple of years ago, Nancy, my wife, and I read a book by Gary Chapman that identified what he called the five love languages: words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service and physical touch. While those may be the major categories through which love may be demonstrated, it is by no means an all-encompassing list, as I recently realized.

I’ve been watching with great interest President-elect Barack Obama’s nomination of Cabinet members. And although it’s early in the process, I’ve come to an important realization: I need a Cabinet.

As we celebrate Thanksgiving, a holiday that traces its roots to that first Thanksgiving, a feast that owed homage to the old English custom of Harvest Home, we often forget what Pilgrims truly are.

Diane passes the turkey to her uncle and steals glances as her sweet potato casserole makes its way around. Her sister, Debbie, is several years older and still talks to her like a child sometimes. Debbie puts a small spoonful of casserole on her plate.