Giving Thanks, Part II (Part I)
Sail across the seas, meet native peoples, lie, steal land, plunder and pillage, desecrate women and children, decimate animal populations that have coexisted in delicate balance for centuries, pollute earth and sky and water, generally destroy whole ways of life.
Decline supping at the table in favor of efficiency! Scrape all the food and liquid from your plate into the blender, and prepare your very own "It's All Gonna Mix Together in Your Stomach Anyway" holiday shake. Plop down to watch football or some shit like that and never have to move again! (Note: make sure your straw is jumbo-size, and not a crazy straw. Meat tends to get backed up in the curves.)
Speaking of football, find a recording of last year's holiday game. At each crucial moment in the game, replace ten seconds of game footage with a commercial for laxatives or fiber cereals. Play from the beginning, hide all the remotes, and insist "there must be something wrong at the station." After the third commercial, stand up, saying "That reminds me," and head for the bathroom.
Halfway through dinner, remark "Wow Mom, you were right. It tastes just like real turkey!" Or, "I can't taste the genetic modifications at all!" Or, "you know, the antibiotics add a nice flavor... ooo, my syphilis feels better."
When it's your turn at the table to say what you're thankful for, say "Ha! I'm just thankful no one found the..." and let your voice trail off. Appear to remember where you are, hastily clear your throat, look around nervously, and mumble about being thankful for something boring and stupid, like 'family.'
Alternatively, when it's your turn, say, "I'm thankful for seat belts, condoms, my radar-detector, health and auto insurance, my friend on the force, airbags, the morning-after pill, and the jaws of life." Don't bother to elaborate.
Prepare a short but informative presentation on the deplorable, inhumane, and unsanitary conditions at turkey farms, making sure to include full-color photographs. When it's your turn at the table, bring out the folder, say "Well, I don't know about thankful, but here's something I'm NOT thankful for," and begin.
Walk around the family gathering with a tear in your eye, and every few minutes, say softly, "You know, I raised that turkey since the day she was born... She never harmed a soul. And she loved me, too. She TRUSTED me!!" Sob loudly.
Just before its summary execution, let the turkey go free, on these conditions: he has 24 hours to rescue the president, who's being held for an inconveniently large ransom by a gang of irritable nomadic bikers roving around post-apocalyptic Manhattan. Oh yeah, and Manhattan is now a gigantic prison island, and there are fences around it. Electric fences. Really big ones. And oh yeah, you have a thing, an exploding thing, implanted in your neck there and if you don't come back in 24 hours, we're gonna blow up your neck and then no one wins. You don't want that, do you?
Gather everyone around the piano. Wear your best Thanksgiving outfit, and your holiday hat; dress up like one of the famous people associated with Thanksgiving. Make a short speech about the history of Thanksgiving: how the Pilgrims, who were famous for wearing big belts on their hats, were gonna starve and freeze and die, but then their friends the Indians, who wear feathers instead of clothes, came and gave them turkeys and lots of free land and then everybody got together and had a big Thanksgiving feast and then the Pilgrims said come back next time and thank you for saving us we have something for you too and gave the Indians some blankets with smallpox. Then say, "time to sing Thanksgiving songs! Which shall we do first?"
Happy Thanksgiving!
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