A Dead Serious Thanksgiving

It’s so easy to forget one of the very best parts of Thanksgiving. I’m usually much too fat, full, drunk and asleep to remember much about anything during the last week of November. The annual complaints about the moral value of the Thanksgiving holiday have to be just about the funniest thing perpetrated this week. It’s not the complaint itself, allow an explanation.

In no nation other than America could anyone involuntarily be so ironic. Allow me to make a sweeping generalization, the people typically complaining about the moral value behind a holiday that has basically become an excuse for gluttony and football (two activities I can get behind), are usually the farthest from being able to relate to any subjugated culture or people.

Social media has put a face to your aimless internet complaints and I’ve never witnessed anything so painfully humorous in my life. This comes to you straight from the facebook profile of a young, white woman with a bachelor’s degree in caring:

“On Thanksgiving Day, we give thanks. We give thanks for being the invader, the exploiter, the dominator, the greedy, the gluttonous, the colonizer, the thief, indeed the genocidaire, rather than on the other side of imperialism’s zero-sum murderous game. Do we want to make these kinds of wishes and give these kinds of ...thanks?”

Clearly, someone is on a diet for thanksgiving.

It’s easy to bring up the complaint that biased parties have written the history books and we actually didn’t make friends with the American Indians, jerk each other off with gravy and share partners in an orgiastic demonstration of unity that would live on forever and ever, but if Thanksgiving is what prompts you sticking it to the man by making a scathing post on your facebook page directed at absolutely no one, then immediately leaving to go eat a turkey at grandma’s, then I hope grandma chokes on a wishbone mid-dinner and dies instantly after a botched Heimlich attempt from cousin Huey while the kids are watching so you could possibly make a legitimate complaint about not enjoying the holiday next year.

This completely uninvolved sentiment brought to you by the longest run-on sentence I’ve ever written in my life.

Before spewing forth angry diatribes about just how steaming angry you are over any oppressive holiday or tradition, you should ask yourself a few questions:

1) Has this tradition/activity not transcended its original meaning and become something completely different?

2) Do I actually plan on taking any action to affect this issue?

3) Am I white?

4) Is this in any way directly affecting me or anyone I’m involved with?

5) Did I have to take the bus to the public library and wait an hour to get on a public computer to write this?

6) Is this sentiment going to motivate any sort of change in the minds/attitudes of the public at large?

7) Am I white?

Should I post the answer key? I’ll give you a hint; if you answered “no” to every question except, “Am I white?” then you really don’t have much to complain about. If I were you, I’d eat a bit more than usual, give grandma a hug, be happy for not having it too bad and shut the ever-loving fuck up while you’re at it. There are much more important issues to be concerned with, oh, motivator of the people.

Higher Stupidity

So, unless you're some depraved moron who figured that you're too cool for school, you probably have seen or are some form of the assholes that litter themselves on the grounds of higher education. I'll speak on behalf of the community college level where people of all walks of life come to get an education albeit it's a breeding ground of frustration and resentment. Without further adieu.

The class pet. This ingrate takes the form of many, but for the sake of my withering sanity and your lack of attention, we'll compress this person into one type: the young idiot. The class pet usually is an incoming freshman who probably only applied to Harvard against the advice of everyone with little to no chance of actually being admitted there. It also has heard of all sorts of urban myths about college and, the most prevalent one being that if you do not befriend your professor, you will fail the class and there's just no other way around it. Because of this, the class pet has the tendency to sit front and center of the lecture hall or what have you and is always, without fail, prepared to take notes on everything, even the syllabus. Aside that, the class pet loves questions. It almost seems like the asshole asks questions for the sake of asking questions, everything from, "Wait, can you repeat that totally irrelevant piece of information that will inevitably slow down the progress of this class and waste our time since the class schedule has been compressed? Thanks!" to, "So you're telling me that what you just said, though it is arranged a little differently than what's presented on the power point lecture, is the same thing? Also, does it mean this? (Insert the same fact, worded differently)". Nothing this ego-stroking moron says is worth any merit and it becomes all too routine throughout the duration of the class that the people that notice it's habit know better than to pay attention or even keep taking notes. It takes all the positive mental attitude in the world for me to disregard the spewing of words from this creature's mouth or any of the later mentioned individuals and not take my own pen in class and jam it so far into my own skull I can only hope I make a clean cut of my cerebellum to make my death an abrupt one.

The class pet also is capable of polarizing the professor's outlook on the rest of the class, this is obviously a case by case basis but allow me to continue because you have no choice. It decides to burn precious class time by asking the professor other irrelevant questions that are completely unrelated to the class in any form, as in what the teacher thinks about the population of honey bees in the world and their relation to the amount of time humanity has to live without their existence. Not only that, but it also spends every possible minute with the professor, including the office hours where those with relevant and serious inquiries are left to rot. I've witnessed a professor become so fed up with the ass kissing by this one person that he refused to answer any more questions. The sycophant broke the goddamn class, what a dick. At this point, I can only hope that everyone else in the class is also imagining this happening to the pathetic asshole.



The next nefarious subject that takes pleasure in making everyone miserable (consciously or not) in class is the elder woman who poses as a sage of infinite wisdom. Ironically she's found in most lower level general education classes and in classes that group work is required, unfortunately for other people. This ageless wretch is usually as old if not older than the professor and sometimes that in itself is as volatile as the other arsenal of garbage she drags into class with her person. The woman, I'll refer to her as, "Bertha" from here on out, is the most opinionated person in class and by default has thrown out any sort of hard science class where she cannot bend the facts to her will and crazy, preconceived notion that she is always correct. Modesty and graciousness are not her forté. Her personal experience is the absolute truth and she takes the time to air out her own dirty laundry in class, most times for the worse and against the will of anyone to have the misfortune of hearing. The class essentially turns into an AA meeting for Bertha and her inner demons and the most confusing days are the ones where she doesn't break down into tears while sharing a personally traumatizing story that has been rendered obsolete with time and is completely irrelevant to today's social norms. If Bertha isn't doing any of that, she's transcending the position of student to teacher's aide and most likely to co-professor; If Bertha becomes comfortable with the atmosphere in the class and does not have conflicting ideas with the professor, she will go to great lengths to befriend the professor in the same sense the class pet did but on a more personal, "Hey, you should come to my Tupperware party this Sunday after church, we're going to have strawberry brulees it will be great" level.

There are plenty more of degenerates that clutter campuses nationwide and most of these people go unchecked in classrooms because most people don't want to be that person and tell some ignorant assholes to shut the fuck up. Maybe other types of cretins will be analyzed in the future.

Fat is the New Everything

A prevalent problem here in America is simply people's laziness. This is the generation of instant gratification where patience is now null and void and every iPhone wielding dickhead is on the verge of a nervous breakdown when they can't get that sweet, sweet 4g network nectar ala a crack fiend going through withdrawals. This laziness can be attributed probably back to the first drive through for fast foods which has essentially been vitiated to a place where literal behemoths respite without losing their breath and passing out trying to open the door to their local fast food joint. Obesity has become so out of hand that at your hospital, they've probably started a new field of medicine dedicated only to fat asses, it's called Bariatrics, look it up. Is that enough? Should I continue? I think I will just so you can hate yourself with every bite of every overly processed, sodium saturated, shitburger you devour as greedily as your chubby fingers can. This isn't a shot at anyone with any sort of genetic disadvantage and struggle with obesity. This is about the shitty parents and stupid kids who fill their corpulent bodies with a constant stream of garbage, not on occasion, but out of habit.

With America's incessant need to devour burgers at every corner, it's no wonder obesity is an issue that people have suddenly pushed off onto children at elementary, middle and high schools. While I'm not any sort of fitness guru, I can say this for a fact: get off your fat ass and move (maybe activate the pit while you're at it, but don't grab the Cheetos, lard legs). Also, none of this may be new to you (the dearest of readers), like the supposed fact that there is a McDonalds within every 100 miles of another or other shit that's been covered in numerous and more credible sources about why you shouldn't eat fast food and all that common sense.

*I actually looked up McDonalds on Google maps at a state level, we have a lot of fucking livestock.

But that's besides the point, fat people suck. There has to be a correlation between the size of a person which is proportionate to their level of body odor which is akin to the rotting corpse of a bison that was thrown into an exposed septic tank and then ignited with rubber tires, what a fucking mess. Not only that, but there also must be an inverse proportion of intellect and percent body fat, generally speaking. They're mouth breathing leeches that are overtly sensitive about their body image but don't do shit to fix it. Now let's come full circle after that long winded rant (get it? fat people) and get back to the point of lazy morons who want everything but deserve nothing except contempt. Regarding diets and all that, people (women) will throw their money at anything that will allow them to look like a fucking stick without breaking a sweat. Laziness has exceeded our ability to contain it and has perpetually infested technology also; laziness has appropriated convenience and made it it's fat, bastardized, dimple-knuckled adoptive child.

Cool. I can order Chipotle from my phone so I can avoid the line at the restaurant and then devour it while I sit in front of the t.v. and watch Netflix all fucking night. It's alright though, I bought these diet pills that will suck the life out of me via toilet so I'm not really getting fat, guys. I love my freedom of being a tasteless, vapid, stupid, fat, piece of shit.

Politically Political Politics

The election season is over, so it’s time to turn the cell phone back on. Being a resident of two, count ‘em, two American states, I have received double the amount of phone calls and mail this time around. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had Mrs. Sally Spunkpit leave me message assuring me of her vaguely different positions on the issues, clearly discerning her from the cold-hearted incumbent Holly Hooha. It’s amazing the trust instilled in these representatives after decades of such strong words turning into sniveling interest group fundraisers.

So after all of these long drawn out disappointments, calling for change and ending up with a well-paid parrot as your political representative, it would seem appropriate then to tell you all about something you already thought about, but probably haven’t acted on. This wonderful new formula to voting that could set you free from a decision that ultimately won’t make an iota of difference. In the months preceding any major election (because honestly who cares about who’s controlling what actually touches our meager sphere of influence, fuck those elections), it is time to collect all of the unwanted correspondence you have received from all parties planning to be on the ballot. For each elected position, the one you receive the least amount of annoying mail and voicemail messages from, is the one you will vote for. This will include signs and screaming assholes outside of the booths.

There is a simple logic behind this. I’ll spare you the black and white explanation and tell you about a special person who made me smile this election season. This person is Linda McMahon. I don’t keep up with professional wrestling because, well, I get laid on a regular basis, but Mrs. McMahon is former President and CEO of WWE wrestling (a position reportedly made as a legal move to allow Mr. McMahon and a corrupt doctor deal with legal penalties for distributing steroids to wrestlers; A rumor I’ve heard directly from the mouths of some of their former employees). Not only was she an exceptional leader for her company, she successfully marketed her television show to a key demographic, children. Moving their rating from a TV-14 to TV-PG, effectively making it safe for our children to watch oiled, sweaty men rub on each other in spandex and keep the feminist flag flying by watching scantily clad models pull each other’s hair and perform gravity-defying stunts of keeping their enormous fake breasts inside of their tiny tops (I feel like I made a concrete argument for extremist conservatives and religious leaders to fight peddling of homosexuality to minors in there, but I’m wouldn’t want to read into things). This same woman, boasting a Bachelor of Arts degree in French, was a candidate for Senate in Connecticut this election. Very obviously, such vast knowledge of the wrestling business, marketing and a language that is rarely spoken the states (never forget freedom fries), makes her a qualified candidate for a seat on the Senate. Mrs. McMahon reportedly spent over 40 million dollars of her own money on her campaign resulting in a decisive loss. This last sentence is one of the few I’ve written that may give you a shred of hope for humanity and it’s rare, because the assholes who can afford the extravagant campaigns and cutthroat PR personnel are the ones who usually end up on top.

There is a point to this random mess of a political commentary. The more ignorant and apathetic this country gets makes it so simple for these entertainment tycoons, trust fund babies and rich Hollywood assholes to become serious contenders in the political arena. This amount of spending is not absurd comparatively and has good reason: most of us don’t pay nearly enough attention to the decision making that is done for us on a regular basis and sometimes not even representative of popular vote (and if when you read this: “Electoral College”, and have to Google it to grasp what I’m saying, go ahead and stick yourself with something sharp you twat).

You get your ass on TV, have a few cute jabs at your opponent and shoot a gun at proposed bills you don’t approve of while wearing the blue collar flag: fatigues. Hell, drink a beer or two so they say, “That guys just like us…” At least that’s what they do here in WV. The more you do that, the more you get your face and voice in eyes, ears and brains of the people, and goddamnit sometimes that is enough. Furthermore, I know a great number of you reading this voted for a candidate because they had a party listed beside their name. If that makes you feel the least bit guilty, and it should, I can help you. Leave your address in the comments and I’ll come to your home and beat you senseless with a rotten catfish.

Our country is full of apathetic wieners who think a blog post and a status update effectively control the ebb and flow of the universe. You know how I’m absolutely positive of this? Because I didn’t know a single thing about Linda McMahon or really any political figure until I Googled it and just became a political pundit full of knowledge about the political issues. So naturally I made a post about how smart I am and how everybody else is drooling on themselves. Here I come, talk radio.

These issues and candidate are things that I don’t even give a fuck about because I didn’t go vote anyway. You know what I did on Election Day? I drank beer excessively, painted an American flag on my chest, hit on passersby (male or female) and quite possibly flashed my penis until I passed out in a creek bed and eventually was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct. This is because I’m a real American, a fucking patriot. So if you made it this far I hope you learned you should have never wasted your time considering my political view, pricks.