When Thanksgiving rolls around, even the most cynical, edgy writers start spewing sentimental drivel about family or the meaning of being thankful. They are weak and clearly under the influence of this fake holiday—you know it was invented by Abraham Lincoln, right?
Suddenly, all my Twitter tweeters have ceased shamelessly promoting themselves or constructing clever little comments about the great things they are doing, or the great things they are thinking, or something great that someone else is doing or thinking. Now it’s a constant stream of kindness and sincerity. Good Magazine asks, “What are you thankful for?” I am thankful that this insanity will be over by Friday. I’ll also be thankful when they return my calls.
I wasn’t going to write about Thanksgiving. It is not my favorite holiday. You eat too much and have to sit around and talk with relatives. This year, my wife and I were given an alternative: we were invited by a neighbor to eat too much and sit around and talk with her relatives. This sounded entertaining. In fact it turned out to be more entertaining than I ever would have imagined.
