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THANKFUL IS MY MIDDLE NAME
by: Max Burbank

Wuh oh! Here it comes! Turkey day! That one time of the year I try to stop being cranky and spiteful for five consecutive seconds and make me a list of all the things Iím thankful for.

First and foremost, thanks God for me and my loved ones all being alive and safe and healthy, at least for now and big thanks in advance for not getting all ironic on me and doing something horrible to me or mine before this article sees print.

Thanks for the bounty of the feast I intend to eat. Thanks in particular for no one at my table wanting canned cranberry sauce which disgusts me and for having lots of people out there more than willing to kill a Turkey for me. Donít get me wrong. I would kill a Turkey if the need arose. I just donít imagine it would go that well. Thanks also for the mind numbing properties of alcohol and Triptofan so I donít dwell overmuch on the suffering, hungry, angry masses of the world as I unbutton my Made-in-China-by-malnourished-child-slave pants so they donít chafe my swollen, overstuffed, American belly, or worry about how if Rod Serling were you, God, Iíd have to be extra scared about the way
the Pilgrims gave the Native Americans small pox infested blankets, because the old Rodmeister loved his irony, know what Iím saying? Of course you do. Youíre God.

Thank you for the laughter of children and bunnies and unicorns. I mean, you know, not the laughter of Bunnies or Unicorns, just their existence. Iím pretty sure Bunnies donít laugh and Iíve no idea what all Unicorns get up to. I donít know. Maybe Bunnies laugh privately, down in their burrows. If theyíre laughing at me, Iíd thank you to make them stop.

Thanks for the endless supply of Harry Potter tie-in merchandise crafted in re-education facilities by political prisoners, and thank you also for the fact that pretending I think Harry Potterís name is Hairy Bottom sends my daughter into reliable fits of rage for which I can time her out once her childish laughter has begun to aggravate my hangover.

Thank you for CNN which even during Thanksgiving I can trust to run a crawl along the bottom of the screen that will spell out all the slow, horrible ways I will probably die soon. Thank you for the myriad miniscule, broken sharp bits in our world that may at any moment lodge in my eye. Thank you for the extreme similarity of early flu symptoms and the onset of Anthrax. Thank you for getting rid of all the pesky, annoying civil liberties which even now continue to clog up the drain of my life. Thank you for giving Dick Chenney a secret location, thank you for speaking directly into the ear and out the mouth of Attorney General Neo Fascist Ashcroft and thank you in addition for having him be born without whatever gene it is that gives human beings the ability to doubt themselves.

And oh, thank you for the Lord of the Rings movie, because that book meant LOTS more to me than Harry Potter and I canít WAIT to see it all tarted like a cheap whore up with fast food Nazgul give-aways and video games and Nestleís Hobbit Bites and Nickelodeon Golum Gooze and thanks, thanks, thanks for making old J.R.R. spin in his grave so fast his casket combusts! And an extra big thumbs up thanks for making the DVD of Ron Howardís Necrophillic ravaging of Dr. Suess' remains available in time for Christmas, I couldnít bare to think of Jolly Old St. Nick not cramming Jim Careyís stocking full to bursting with ROYALTY CHECKS! IT JUST WOULDNíT BE THE HOLIDAYS!! THANKS!! THANKS GOD!!

And thanks for clearing out the indigenous riff raff, thanks for manifest destiny, thanks for getting rid of the frigginí ice age Buffalo because I was having a hell of a time seeing from Sea to Shinning Sea with those huge, furry BASTARDS blocking my WAY!! And thanks for tightening immigration laws because if thereís one thing I hate itís some damn greasy foreigner acting like he owns the place and taking my stuff!

And you know what? Hereís a big, holiday shout out for the Macyís Thanksgiving Day parade and Willard Scottís early onset dementia because the only thing better than booze is booze and a fat, insane weatherman on the TUBE.

And above all, Lord, just... thanks. Thanks for being there. Because having to blame any of this on myself would just totally suck.


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