Thanksgiving is tomorrow.
That means I’m obligated to write something seasonal.
Now, I could get all sentimental on you—I could conjure my inner Garrison Keillor and tell a heartwarming tale about my youth…
…A soft stroll down memory lane, rife with comical anecdotes and ultimately, a lesson learned.
But this ain’t Reader’s Digest.
I could write about the same old tired cliches; your dysfunctional family, too much alcohol, obligatory naps…the Lions losing—again…
But I won’t. That’s too easy.
It’s like relying on the “Halloween Allows Women to Dress Like Whores” schtick, when blogging about All Hallow’s Eve—it’s been done, and over-done.
I couldn’t write anything that hasn’t been said a million times before, so I won’t bother.
Besides, you deserve better.
Of course, besides the family, booze, food, naps and football, what else is there?
Personally, I can think of one.
As I’ve said, I didn’t really have a life until the 90’s. Mine was a childhood filmed before a live studio audience…
So when I think of Thanksgiving, I really think of one thing and one thing only.
“As God as my witness, I thought turkeys could fly.”
Happy Thanksgiving, folks…
Now go enjoy awkward conversations with your crazy relatives, family induced drinking and a tryptophan-induced coma on the couch whilst watching the Lions lose…again.