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Friends of
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Thanks(for nothing)Giving-11/27/01
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Hello Kiddies-
So you digested all the turkey and potatoes and
stuffing, or hot dogs and BBQ fritos and egg salad,
or fritters, fried catfish and donut gems. However
you decided to spend your Thanksgiving I am sure
that you have hardly digested the guilt and terror
that you are still chewing on after spending prolonged
hours with your family. Through the candelabras
and the bottles of Lefit Rothschild or the sterno
cans and cans of Miller, I am sure that you had
to speak to them. They probably bored you meaningless
drivel or insulted you with blatant observations
of your flaws, maybe even telling you a family secret
or two that NO ONE SHOULD HAVE EVER KNOWN. But as
the stuffing settles, there is no greater feeling
of disappointment than a holiday stuck with family.
In the cerebral slide show you present yourself
before the actual occasion, you start to get excited.
You recall happy occasions from years past. While
still a child, a stolen moment, a big snow, a glimpse
of happiness. But as you age it all falls apart.
Soon the toilet of life backs up and you are left
with no toilet paper. You struggle to flush but
to no avail the harder you bang on the handle, the
more sewage backs up and spills onto the floor.
Uh-oh NO PLUNGER!!!, the family has arrived. The
day always starts out where you make the mistake
of waking up. From there you put your best foot
forward to try and have some components of being
human. You find a ridiculously tight sweater, and
some corduroy pants and really get into the spirit.
You look in the mirror and realize that everyone
is gonna see right through your bullshit veneer.
So you put more cologne on. You then arrive at "whoevers"
house, you walk to the door with your pride in the
trunk of your car. You step through the transom
and that's it. Thanksgiving has just bitten you
in the sack. You are either the first guest and
have to endure the awkward hour until someone who
knows you arrives or you are unfashionably late
and everyone thinks you probably stopped at a tavern.
In either scenario there are awkward greetings as
lipstick now covers your entire face and the smell
of turkey and perfume mingles to make even the pilgrims
sick. With a charge you head to the mini bar, you
start to pour things in your mouth that you have
never seen before, anything to start the numbing
process. You see Uncle Bud at the bar and he wants
to talk about America, and the 9/11 attacks, and
our boys overseas. Uncle Bud served in WWII and
has brought the Marines home with him. It was part
of his child rearing philosophy and he has spawned
some weird children who inhabit the alcoholic and
overachiever ends of the family spectrum. Next you
bump into your cousins new Mexican boyfriend, this
is the third boyfriend this year and they are now,
after 36 days of intense dating and fornicating,
close enough to spend holidays together. He smiles
and flashes a gang sign as he inappropriately gropes
her as you can see a new tattoo busting out from
the waistband of her hip hugger pants. She rotates
her head as if this is the dreamiset boy she has
ever laid eyes on. All the young girls are dressed
like sluts, too much belly showing, it's fucking
Thanksgiving. No one reminded them? NO one looked
at their chunky guts hanging over their waistband
and reminded them Thanksgiving is a fucking holiday?
The whole sick group is now starting to file through
the door. Grampa loses his teeth as he drools onto
his stained sweatshirt that he wore for the past
eight days. Susie comes through the door with a
hair fall tied up in a leopard print bandanna. This
now adds an additional four feet of hair that she
did not have the day before. I look and wonder exactly
where everyone thought they were going. I mean when
I was pulling down my sweater that I only wear twice
a year, and my corduroy pants, What were these people
dressing for? Did they not know they were going
to spend the day with their family, did they honestly
think the miracle bra and the candy apple red, extra
small, two button blouse would make it easier to
talk to Uncle Bill? I fiddle with the can tab on
my beer and try to avert my look as Gretchen bent
over to pick something up and her new tattoo and
half her ass stuffed into a thong jumped out, again
I thought Thanksgiving? What year did Thanksgiving
turn into a fucking strip show? I quietly sat through
the meal without saying much as each lackluster
performer stood during dinner to announce what they
were thankful for. Most thanked themselves in one
way or another for their ability to cope through
the 9/11 disaster, others thanked the military or
government for their role in the war effort. But
most got up, inebriated, poorly dressed and wasted
my time. They blubbered on about their own agenda
and asked for some kind of recognition. I was embarrassed
for them. I was embarrassed that it has taken us
1.4 million years to start waking upright and we
are all so "dummed up" and happy with
it that we walk upright....... as if we always had.
People make me sick and Thanksgiving reminds me
what kind of assholes we have around us, ALL DAY,
EVERYDAY. Not one person said they were thankful
for their ability to reason, or speak, or communicate,
or listen and I realized that I was the only one
listening. I was listening to a bunch of people
all not realize how fucked up they were. I hate
the holidays. God Bless America-
Now Fuck All Y'All
Lumpy The Clown
READ MY OLD ARTICLES
in SPENT LOADS
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