Surviving Thanksgiving

Heathens and hippies will call it Turkey Day or Tofurkey Day. It is not called either of those things. It is called Turkey Day. There's a war on our dignity akin to the war on Xmas.

Thanksgiving comes from the ancient ritual literally translated as "Stuff Your Fat Face With These Grains. There is a famine coming and this may be the last chance to experience flavor."

When the first honkeys arrived in America, they appropriated the holiday and changed the name to "Thanksgiving," as in, "Thanks for dying so easily, other people here."

Today we're inundated with articles about surviving Thanksgiving and neat-o tips and tricks about making a non-traditional, vegan, Wiccan Thanksgiving dinner made out of bean sprouts and baby blood on Salon.com. This begs the question: How do we survive Thanksgiving?

Thanks, grandma.

Easy, go out and murder a goddamn turkey, stick it in the oven, and listen to your friends and family talk about how good burning flesh smells. Then you eat the goddamned turkey and you say to the turkey, "Thanks for dying so easily, you damn bird."

While we're on the subject, birds are straight from hell.

Just look at the birds pestering you for garbanzo beans and kombucha while you eat at Whole Foods. They are ragged, their eyes are lifeless, and their bird songs sound like the worst metal band you've ever heard. Anyone who tells me birds are animals has obviously never eaten one. Birds are as dumb as carrots right up to the moment you stuff its head in your mouth and bite it off. They have no idea what fate awaits them.

There was an article recently about what other countries think Americans eat on Thanksgiving. It was enjoyable because we get so much crap for not knowing about other cultures but all of the people he called were clueless about our holiday. They were even perturbed that some American called them in the dead of night to pester them about their ignorance.

I've got news for the world. This is America and we eat EVERYTHING on Thanksgiving.

A traditional American Thanksgiving. 

Thank you, Cheetos. You taste great inside a turkey.

Just in case you run out of Cheetos, keep some in the soap dish. #SurvivingThanksgiving

In other news, my good friend Elizabeth submitted a design to Threadless that was accepted. Her design is an homage to the Citizen Kane of our generation, Dazed and Confused. Vote for it!

I'd wear it. 

The Grand Canyon

Photo by Jean-Christophe BENOIST (Own work) [CC-BY-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Spelk Fiction published my story The Grand Canyon recently. Read it here.

7 things you wish people would stop saying to you when you're feeling sick

I've been sick. Every year, without fail, I'll get sick two to three times in October and November. I've started to plan for it. I've dubbed it, "Flu Season."

Here are a few things I'm sick and tired of people saying to me when I'm sick and tired.

7. Is somebody at work making fun of you? They're just jealous. 

Jealous? Jealous? Jealous of what, mom? Jealous that I can grow a beard? Let me tell you one thing, mother, my beard isn't some kind of fashion choice and it isn't some kind of personal statement. My beard is there because I can't afford shaving gel. I can't even afford Barbasol and they sell that shit for a dollar at Target! But you know what really gets me about this beard, mom? It's genetic. And I've seen the hairless Vikings on dad's side of the family so I can't blame him.

I blame you.

6. Sit up; it helps the phlegm stay out of your breathing stuff.

First of all, my breathing stuff is fine. I had them checked recently. The doctor said all I had to do was stop snorting Coke. He said there was no reason a carbonated drink should be in my nose. I'm working on it.

Secondly, I'm not going to sit here and not snopes the shit out of this old wive's tale. Guess what? Snopes doesn't say a damn word about it. There isn't even a page. So I'm just going to lay down like a fucking gangster while you heat me up some more soup, MOM.

5. If you're so sick, you should be resting. Get off the computer.

Oh, yeah? Well, I won't be able to take care of my mental health issues if I don't finish this blog post so why don't you go back to the 80s where you grew up and play with your rocks and Q-tips and listen to your Depeche Mode 8 track?

4. You're really mad, aren't you?

Mom, sit down.

I'm working on some shit right now. A lot of stuff is going on in my life.

I've got the sniffles.

AND I GOT A MOM CONSTANTLY ON MY ASS ABOUT EVERYTHING.

3. Andrew, Andrew, calm down.

Don't tell me to be calm. Don't tell me to be calm.

Where's my soup?

2. It's right here. Nice and warm. I picked out all the chicken for you.

What if I wanted the chicken this time? Did you even think of asking me?

1. Andrew, be careful, you're spilling soup all over yourself.

LOOK. I'M LAYING DOWN LIKE A GANGSTER. I CAN'T AFFORD BARBASOL. OF COURSE SOME SOUP'S GOING TO STICK AROUND. NOW RUN TO THE LIQUOR STORE AND GET ME SOME GATORADE.

5 Conspiracy Theories Once Thought Nuts, Now Proven True

Conspiracy theories. Everyone believes in at least one of them and believers will say, "I know conspiracy theories are nuts but this one, man, woooooo doggy, this one is real."

Let's look at the five times in history those dudes were right.

5. Santa Claus Doesn't Exist

Rumors swirled for years from older cousins and schoolyard bullies but it was hard to believe because, WHO ELSE HAS MOM'S HANDWRITING, KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT I WANT, AND LEAVES REINDEER SHIT ALL OVER MY CARPET? Santa, duh.

But it turns out the schoolyard bully was right about a lot of things. Santa's no exception.

I remember when I first found out Santa wasn't real. It was just a few years ago. I wished really hard for a brand new PlayStation and I was good all year. Then I got a letter in the mail from my dad that said, "Andrew, seriously. You have a job. You live in Texas. If you want a PlayStation, just buy one. You don't have to keep dropping hints to us over the phone and mentioning how good you are. Santa doesn't exist."

Then he hung up.

The world crumbled around me. I wanted to die. I shivered, naked, cold, and alone on my bathroom floor... without a PlayStation.

4. My neighbor, Jerry, is out to get me.

It started with the foot stomping all over the my ceiling. Jerry walks like he's got dicks for feet and the only thing that arouses them is banging them on carpet.

So he does it all night.

Then, out of nowhere, new neighbors come along and I'm positive their friends with Jerry. Their dog just barks like a maniac all night long while I'm just trying to sit alone in darkness and plot out a strategy to get Jerry out of the apartment.

Then I get a notice that my rent wasn't received. That's bullshit. Jerry took it out of the mailbox.

3. I'm still pretty pissed off about Santa. 

You know, you live your whole life thinking one thing and then the very same people that spoon fed you this lie are the ones that tell you EVERYTHING YOU EVER KNEW IS A LIE.

What is it, dad? Is it also not true that I'm special and talented in every way? Then why don't I have a brand new PlayStation on the part of my apartment where there would be a fireplace if a fireplace was practical? Where's all the deer shit? Why do my cookies go uneaten?

2. Connect Santa and Jesus and... oh, shit. 

IS IT TRUE? IS IT TRUE, DAD? IF SANTA (WHO GOES AROUND THE WORLD GIVING GIFTS TO ALL THE GOOD CHILDREN IN CELEBRATION OF THE GLORIOUS LIFE OF BELOVED LEADER JESUS CHRIST) IS FAKE THEN...

1. Dinosaurs are extinct.

When Jurassic Park came out fifty years ago, I was just a boy. Many of the school children would circle around me and ask me what I thought of Jurassic Park being that I was the only kid cool enough to have seen it before anyone else (I didn't tell them that I had to hold my mom's hand during the raptors in the kitchen scene because I scared my balls back into pre-puberty). Still, I was the cool kid.

I told them the graphics were great and one kid said, "Nuh-uh! They really used dinosaurs!"

Outwardly, I was like, "Bitch, please. You didn't even see the movie because you're so poor and you smell like your mom bathes you in her cigarettes, wine, and tears."

All the other kids laughed and I popped the collar on my jean jacket, turned my cap backwards, put on my sunglasses with neon frames, and strutted with the prettiest non-English speaking girl at the school, Elsa. All the kids laughed at the kid I made fun of because it was pretty much true that he smelled like cigarettes, wine, and tears but the tear smell could have been from his own. 

Inside, I was dying. I knew he could have been right. I carried this inside me for years and years until yesterday, when I finally watched the extras on the Jurassic Park DVD. They didn't use dinosaurs. 

Dinosaurs are extinct.