What does it say about a society when it designates a solitary day to express gratitude? If all of our thankfulness is being condensed into that 24 hour block of time, does that mean it is socially acceptable to be a selfish asshole the other 364 days of the year? The math doesn’t lie and the evidence is certainly all around us. In fact, some butt-nugget at the gas station recently proved it wasn’t quite Thanksgiving yet by stopping at the first available pump as opposed to pulling all the way up to the furthest one forward. I can only hope they were thankful that I didn’t side swipe their inconsiderate ass as I inconveniently maneuvered around them to gain access to the pump that they so clearly rejected. They’re damned lucky Count Malachi wasn’t trying to gas up!
I truly believe it would have behooved the founding fathers to flip the script when they were mapping out the American holiday calendar. That way, everybody would have been spewing and oozing with gratefulness every day of the year except for one. On that particular day, we could all temporarily suspend our good graces, act like selfish pricks (or NOT act, depending on who you are) and let our dickishness run wild for 24 hours. We could call it Thoughtless Day. Sure, that day would really suck but the rest of the year would be smoother than the ass of a photoshopped supermodel. I realize of course that this is a very progressive idea that embraces logic to a degree that would frighten society’s key players but I’ll embrace it as a utopian ideal, nonetheless.
As far as the origins of Thanksgiving goes, I’m calling turkey-shit on the whole story. The history book fables of Pilgrims and Indians partying and gangbanging together just don’t add up. Fact is, our European ancestors invaded the home of Native Americans, raided their casinos and raped the women on camera and released the videos as Squaws Gone Wild in HD. The heavily armed friendly visitors, who can be referred to as “the oppressors” from here on out to avoid confusion gifted the Injuns with disease-ridden blankets sealing the fate of future generations in a fine example of early bio-terrorism. American ingenuity at its finest. Whitey proceeded to bombard the natives with shitty store-brand liquor like a soda vendor in a kindergarten schoolyard. Believe me when I say that nobody should drink something called Deal-Mania Budget Rum with Bargain Spices .
Of course, I realize that it isn’t realistic to expect people to appreciate each other every single day. We are far too busy downloading porn onto our cell phones and spraying cheese out of an aerosol can for that. I also realize what a bunch of teepees would do to property values in my neighborhood. The insurance companies would cream their corporate jeans writing premiums for those flyaway homes! It’s just that I can do without the white-washing of history and designation of a feeling that should be the norm to begin with. So, let us all enjoy a dry-ass holiday dinner together and pretend that turkey meat doesn’t soak up our saliva like a maxi-pad doing its business. Turkeys up, bitches.