Thanksgiving Guilt: It's not Just for Dinner Anymore

Lord, protect our stiff, homogenized corpses from Grandpa's H5N1.

A few hours after dinner with my recently extended family, Chance and I are chilling at his house watching Paul McCartney on TV. Paul's performance reminds us how much he and Ringo Starr are proof that the better half of the Beatles died a long time ago. "I mean, what's Ringo doing now?" I ask Chance.

"Well, I can tell you what he's not doing," he condescends. We both laugh.

"You can tell the rock died a long time ago when a mother in the crowd starts doing this," Chance imitates the awkward waving motion of an aging woman, complete with mocking sound effects.

Finally, he gives McCartney what he deserves--the mute button. We talk again until we tire of the TV static. "Tired of the white noise?" he asks.

"You mean, 'McCartney'?" I answer.

Chance turns the channel. "Magic's Biggest Secrets Revealed"--I ask him if anyone gives a shit about magic anymore as we watch the masked magician fold up a one dollar bill and unfold it into a fifty. "How does he do it?" the cheeseball announcer asks.

"He's the Federal Reserve," I joke.

"How do these trannies have such large breasts?" the announcer asks. "It's not magic," he says.

Then, the masked magician carries over a large silicone implant in each hand.

Speaking of the Fed, how about that economy and the all the dumbassery of Black Friday? I wasn't about to camp out anywhere but I did buy some 18 DVDs and a $25 printer/copier/flatbed scanner. And it only took me 5 hours of shopping, mostly sifting through box after box of badly organized used DVDs strewn about the Video Warehouse parking lot in the cold.

Of course, there were the lines at Best Buy and Wal-Mart, too. One woman I stood behind, in particular, rattled on to an older woman I could only assume was her mother. She sifted through her pile of worthless, sale-priced crap, picking up her copy of "Taken," starring Liam Neeson as she prepared to checkout, "That there movie's probably the best I ever seen."

I scratched my head in confusion. That's when I noticed her hardback copy of Glenn Beck's guide to fear-mongering for the holidays. Suddenly, it all made sense: this is America.

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