Happy Smallpox-Blanket Day!

Condolences all around. Today is a day of mourning. It is also a day of celebration, commemorating a narrow victory over an unsuspecting continent, honoring a kindness and compassion that Western Civilization has yet to return.

But who gives a fuck about that, am I right?

Yes, this holiday, like most of its brethren, is nothing more than a thinly veiled excuse to cancerously consume everything in sight. Which is of course, all too fitting. For all the talk of humility and family and similar puritanical virtues, today amounts to a paean, not to gratitude, but to obesity, and of course, one day later, to capitalism. Raise a glass! To gluttony!

But wait. There might be a slight problem here. Are you human enough to be a little bothered by your ancestors’ bloody legacy, but American enough to just want to get your grub on? Do you want to savor your set of nesting matroshka carcasses, but can’t get the taste of genocide out of your mouth? Do you prefer your gravy guilt free? Then for those select few of you, please, indulge me in a quick (revisionist) history lesson:

You know how to make a movie where the Indians win? You take any old western, and you run it backwards.

- Earl Pomerantz

If it’s true that history is an agreed upon fiction, than ours is the most gruesome horror story ever told.

Now that we that unpleasantness out of the way, let’s get on to “giving thanks.” There are a few things I’m genuinely thankful for:

Sadly, that is not to be and we might as well make the most out of an unfortunate situation. So go ahead, enjoy yourselves. Watch some football and if you get tired of that, watch some apropos episodes of Gilmore Girls. Or The O.C., if you’re so inclined.

By all means, eat, nap and be merry! Just try not to lose sight of the true spirit of Thanksgiving.

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