Thanksgiving
We're almost there. If I close my eyes and wish really hard, I can already smell the turkey. The mashed potatoes. The gravy. The stuffing. The second helping of all that stuff. The third. The Tums.
Thanksgiving is, aside from watching midgets try to climb a flight of stairs, the single greatest thing any human being can experience. Most people probably disagree with me. Some may say the greatest thing anyone can experience is love. Others, self-confidence. Still others, a Chipotle burrito with extra meat. But those people are all wrong. It's Thanksgiving.
Whoever invented Thanksgiving (it probably wasn't the Pilgrims – my money's on James Dyson. That guy could design a shirt without a neck hole, and it would still be awesome) deserves a plaque made of the ground-up bones of Nobel Laureates. It's a holiday focused entirely on eating until you rupture your stomach. Then you watch football. Then you eat some more. If there exists something better, I'll ask you not to tell me about it, as I'm sure it would cause my head to explode.
Sure, ostensibly, it's about giving thanks for all the stuff you've got. And I'm not against that at all. The things I'm usually thankful for include these sweet-ass socks, “Arrested Development,” and ninjas. But in the postmodern tradition of my stupid generation, the thing I'm most thankful for is Thanksgiving itself.
If you're a “LOST” fan, Thanksgiving is my constant. If you're a Tarantino fan, it's my Brian DePalma homage. If you're a Kevin Smith fan, it's my huge bag o' weed. If you're a Joss Whedon fan, please kill yourself.
I look forward to it starting on Black Friday the previous year. Once Halloween hits, I start to dream about swimming in pools of turkey gravy. It's a sickness. But I know the cure: Eating turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and stuffing and pumpkin pie until I feel a little bit guilty and adopt a child from Uganda or something.
Plus, it affords me the opportunity to get together with my family, and unlike most people, I actually like my family (yes, that was ambiguous, and no, I'm not changing it).
Almost everyone glosses over Thanksgiving, and that's just not right, especially since it's a very jealous holiday and it owns several guns. To many, it's simply the gateway to Christmas. It's a harbinger. A pre-game. A checkpoint. But to me, it's the greatest thing since reversible windbreakers. So here's to you, Thanksgiving. I just hope you brought more wine.
Thanksgiving is, aside from watching midgets try to climb a flight of stairs, the single greatest thing any human being can experience. Most people probably disagree with me. Some may say the greatest thing anyone can experience is love. Others, self-confidence. Still others, a Chipotle burrito with extra meat. But those people are all wrong. It's Thanksgiving.
Whoever invented Thanksgiving (it probably wasn't the Pilgrims – my money's on James Dyson. That guy could design a shirt without a neck hole, and it would still be awesome) deserves a plaque made of the ground-up bones of Nobel Laureates. It's a holiday focused entirely on eating until you rupture your stomach. Then you watch football. Then you eat some more. If there exists something better, I'll ask you not to tell me about it, as I'm sure it would cause my head to explode.
Sure, ostensibly, it's about giving thanks for all the stuff you've got. And I'm not against that at all. The things I'm usually thankful for include these sweet-ass socks, “Arrested Development,” and ninjas. But in the postmodern tradition of my stupid generation, the thing I'm most thankful for is Thanksgiving itself.
If you're a “LOST” fan, Thanksgiving is my constant. If you're a Tarantino fan, it's my Brian DePalma homage. If you're a Kevin Smith fan, it's my huge bag o' weed. If you're a Joss Whedon fan, please kill yourself.
I look forward to it starting on Black Friday the previous year. Once Halloween hits, I start to dream about swimming in pools of turkey gravy. It's a sickness. But I know the cure: Eating turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and stuffing and pumpkin pie until I feel a little bit guilty and adopt a child from Uganda or something.
Plus, it affords me the opportunity to get together with my family, and unlike most people, I actually like my family (yes, that was ambiguous, and no, I'm not changing it).
Almost everyone glosses over Thanksgiving, and that's just not right, especially since it's a very jealous holiday and it owns several guns. To many, it's simply the gateway to Christmas. It's a harbinger. A pre-game. A checkpoint. But to me, it's the greatest thing since reversible windbreakers. So here's to you, Thanksgiving. I just hope you brought more wine.
posted by Vaughan at
11:17 AM
1 Comments:
Thanks giving is grand, surely. However, a few years ago my grandmother decided, "I'm not cooking anymore," and since then Thanksgivings have been catered... not quite sure what I think about all of this. I mean, I empathize with her sentiments, but there is something familiar, quaint, about cooking together as a family - women in the kitchen, men telling stories in the living room (right?), and cousins playing football or playing dress-up (hey, we're an old-school patriarchal family - just saying).
I like Thanksgiving for yet another reason - folly. It seems as though the purpose of Thanksgiving is to celebrate our folly. To tell stories; to laugh at old jokes; to forget about our pending obligations.
I too cherish this time. It is a wonderful time, and yes, whoever instigated this day ought to be honored.
Thanks for the post.
-Z
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