Despite my having written thousands of letters to my congressional representative, America elected to hold Thanksgiving again. Obviously, this is not my favorite holiday because the central dish is meat meat meat and I am a vegetarian. I mean, not a literal vegetarian, because I do eat meat, but I am a vegetarian in my heart. And in my heart I also exercise regularly.
So anyway, Thanksgiving. My family used to have dinner with my uncle’s family every year. We had a solid tradition in place, where my uncle’s family would all bow their heads and one of my cousins would say grace, while my parents and I kept our heads up to indicate our unwillingness to bow beneath the yoke of the Church, the Pope, male chauvinism, Republicanism, Care Not Cash, Proposition 187, diminished school spending, overly aggressive foreign policies, sweatshops, and pre-packaged cranberry sauce.
But lately we’ve been holding our own holidays away from the Uncle clan, and my self-righteousness is all pent up with nowhere to go. We could take a tip from Sean’s family and play a cutthroat game of Scattergories, but then we’d have to somehow steal our Scattergories back from, well, Sean’s family. I guess we could make it into some kind of family-teamed Capture The Flag, if we had something that Sean’s family wanted. Maybe our flag could be Gene.
In conclusion, don’t fuck with Sparkles. Thank you, good night.