I know this may offend several to millions of people, but it's been on my mind lately, obviously, and I've spent years unable to publicly voice my opinion on the issue. Now, in Thailand, I feel as though I've had some distance to really think about it, and I've come to the conclusion that I can't pretend any longer. I hate Thanksgiving.
This year was the first year I wasn't home for it. On the night of Thanksgiving (which, I admit, came half a day early in Thailand) I ate noodles with pork dumplings, and I couldn't have been happier.
"But DirtyDave, why do you feel this way?" you may ask. Or, "But DirtyDave, you apple pie-fucking traitor, what makes you think you're entitled to feel this way, terrorist?" you may also ask. And I understand. But let me say that this by no means reflects how I feel about my homeland. I love America. It's all I've ever known until about two months ago. But Thanksgiving isn't America, thank Christ, and I'm not a terrorist (trust me).
Reasons why I feel this way:
1) Whenever you ask someone how their Thanksgiving was, they say, "Oh man, I ate a lot," and everyone accepts this as an appropriate answer. "Oh yeah, me too. So much." Well fuck that. I eat a lot when I have a goddamn snack.
2) The holiday, as of course everyone knows and is probably tired of hearing, celebrates the beginning of the centuries-long rape and ravage of the Native American peoples. Not that I'm against rape or ravagery in the name of white-manity. It's just, one day feels like too short to really absorb the gaiety.
3) Brussel sprouts.
4) Turkey, at it's best, is not as good as these fucking pork dumplings down my block.
5) Talking to relatives is like interviewing for job, but you don't get anything out of it.
