The Thanks of the Giving

I was at a horrible place last night - something called the Slovenly Grill. So this trivia game breaks out and I'm sitting there and this question comes up about the largest rodents in North America and Geilfuss says "What about those giant rats in The Princess Bride?" I said "What about them?"

Thanksgiving is something I have a pretty poor understanding of. I know it started back in the day when Chris Columbus had Pocahontas over for a day of highly flatulent sexual escapades. I mean that's what they told us in 1st grade anyway. But the givers never get enough credit and I think the intent of the holiday is to thank the givers - at least the intent of whoever made it a national holiday (which is probably one of the three kings - Richard Petty, Elvis, or Budweiser). So I think that's admirable as hell. But somewhere along the way thanking the givers got perverted and it's become all about the people who do the giving giving thanks to themselves because the takers won't do it. This is why the Detroit Lions have never won or even been in the Super Bowl - they throw a football game every year as a way to say thanks to themselves. We've got to get away from this. Maybe Obama will fix this problem next year after he parts the Red Sea to stick it to Edward G. Robinson.

I woman came up to me at work a number of years ago on the day before Thanksgiving and I was minding my own business in the break room and she said "Are you doing anything special for the holiday?" I must have been out of it because I broke down and told her my Thanksgiving ritual "I spend the day eating potted meat, drinking 40s, and sitting in the dark listening to Molly Hatchet at deafening levels." She said "Oh, you poor thing. Bless your heart (ladies will say bless your heart in the south so they don't have to call you a fucking loser to your face)." I said back to her "I can't talk anymore. I gotta take a dump." Then I overheard a guy I worked with named Tod Cannon say "Don't mind him, he's very scatological." Which is pretty true. I talk about bodily functions constantly. All of them. I'll wonder aloud at lunch something like "Do you think that lady over there has yeast infections that are runny like cottage cheese?"

I remember one Thanksgiving when I was about 10 and I was sitting at the orphanage about 5 pm trying to think of a way to get this one nurse to give me a special examination. She was pretty hot and I didn't have many options on Thanksgiving anyway. I would go into her office several times a week complaining of soreness some place or other - some place where she would have to ask me to take off my pants. Anyway, while I was sitting there that day I noticed on the TV there was a movie about a crazy angel named Clarence and this other guy named Uncle Billy. It seemed pretty old. Well there's a part of that movie where a tall guy (I think he read funny limericks on the Johnny Carson Show) jumps off a bridge into a river. I really took something from that. I realized that if things are looking bleak, all you have to do is jump off a bridge and into a river. If you do that, an angel will save you, people will bring tons of cash to your house, Sam Wainwright will give you an unlimited line of credit, and you'll be married to Donna Reed.

I ate a turkey sandwich one time.

I liked Virginia Tech better when their name was The Gobblers.

I might stop into Get Bent Lounge this evening. If anyone asks - I'm dead or in rehab.

Sound the bell, School's in sucker! I told you homeboy!