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Oh good Christ, Thanksgiving is in two days and I haven't spent
any time at all thinking of what I'm thankful for! Shit!
Um, okay, well, I'm thankful I'm not a Turkey! Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha
Ha! What? Fuck you, it's funny. You try coming up with a joke
that good right off the top of your head. I did not make that
same joke in
last year's Thanksgiving bit. Okay, I did, but in a
totally different context, and I closed with it, and now I'm
opening with it and I FORGOT! OH GOD PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR BEING
HUMAN AND FORGETTING!!
And isn't that the meaning of Thanksgiving, really, when you
think about it? Unreasonable rage and over reaction? You see how
I did that? That's thinking on your toes. You try that.
But seriously folks, unreasonable rage and over reaction are the
backbone of the American dream and I'm thankful for them, so
shut up. The Native Americans brought corn and wild turkey to
the first Thanksgiving. Know what we brought to the table?
That's right. Unreasonable rage and over reaction. And
intolerance. And a centerpiece. Good knows what was on it.
Couldn't have been a pilgrim, right? That wouldn't have made any
sense. And we didn't even know Turkey would be the traditional
meal until the Indians brought it. So that's out. Probably a
cornucopia.
'Cause what's more fun in the center of your table than a symbol
of bounty when you're probably going to starve to death over the
winter if you don't freeze first? The Native Americans did not
know fuck all about centerpieces, because they may have been
helpful, kind, and the only reason we survived the first,
second, and next thirty or so years in America, but they were
also fucking savages.
I mean, look at the corn they brought! You know that shit you
hang on your door with the multi colored kernels, Indian Corn?
Well why the hell did you think it's called that? Of course,
they called it 'Maize' because they couldn't speak a damn word
of English. And Wild Turkey? I'll tell you what; it wasn't the
Wild Turkey I bring to Thanksgiving.
And you know why I bring my Wild Turkey? Oh yes. Because it
helps fuel my Unreasonable rage and over reaction. And I don't
really 'bring' it, so much as 'arrive having finished a the
bottle'.
I mean, let's face it! Without unreasonable rage and over
reaction I'd still be at the damn kids table, in the basement!
I'm 43! I have children of my own! We have thanksgiving at my
house; I am not spending another Thanksgiving in my own
basement! The wife says I have to be down there because of my
problems with unreasonable rage and over reaction, but A.) The
Wild Turkey helps me fear her less and B.) The children don't
enjoy my drunken antics any more than my parents do and C.) WHY
THE HELL DID WE INVITE MY PARENTS AGAIN!? I THOUGHT I HAD BEEN
CLEAR ABOUT THAT! I THOUGHT I HAD BEEN VERY, VERY, CRYSTAL
CLEAR! DOESN'T ANYBODY GIVE A LITTLE TIN CRAP ABOUT WHAT I WANT
AT THANKSGIVING!?
Okay. Okay. At least I'm not a Turkey and OH CHRIST I MADE THAT
JOKE ALREADY! SHIT! GOD DAMNIT! CRAP! Oh, I'm thankful for
cursing, that's three things. No, no, four things; Not being a
turkey, unreasonable rage and over reaction, and cursing, that's
four. And Wild Turkey, and not being at the kids table this
year, that's five and six, and you know what, I'm thankful my
parents are going to be here. I truly am. God knows just because
thirty years have passed since their divorce is no reason I
shouldn't have to put up with how MUCH THEY HATE EACH OTHER! And
the only thing that says 'Hello!' to a big, steaming cornucopia
of unreasonable rage and over reaction better than a full bottle
of Wild Turkey is having to listen to your elderly parents sling
barbs at each other about shit that happened during the CARTER
PRESIDENCY! "Could you pass the peas or are you going to CHEAT
ON ME and finish them?" "Well maybe if you didn't spend all your
time on the mashed potatoes and stuffing and corn relish and
cranberry sauce so that at the end of the day you had nothing
left for ME I'd never have needed so many PEAS!!" And yes, sure,
I could let it just roll off me like whiskey off a Turkeys back,
but that wouldn't be unreasonable, would it, and it sure as hell
wouldn't be rage or an over reaction, and if I wasn't so neck
swelling enraged there'd be no reason to drink so much Wild
Turkey that I don't even find out 'til the next day how I
stripped to my underwear, climbed atop the table weeping and
tried unsuccessfully to have physical relations with the gravy
boat! Thank God I won't be at the kids table this year. I'd hate
for my children to see me like that instead of just hearing
desperate screams and the memorable, near symphonic sound of a
full Thanksgiving table collapsing.
That's got to get me up to at least ten things I either am or
plan on being thankful for. That's not even counting pumpkin
pie, which I find very soothing the next morning when the sound
of chewing anything more solid than Pumpkin pie would be
unbearable, as I plan on having a Macy's-
Parade-Clifford-the-Big-Red-Dog-Balloon-Giant-Ass-Sized-Wild-Turkey
hangover.
Turn the sound down kids. Daddy loves the floats, but the
marching bands are God's own punishment on The Damned. Happy
Thanksgiving.
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