My favorite new trick, which I learned from the political campaign season, is to ask a question that has absolutely no basis in reality -- "Does Barack Obama love his country?" -- and then, without actually validating that sentiment, just say, "I really think
we have to ask that question." A rhetorical dick move? Sure. I'm a practical man, y'all, whatever works
. That's why, following the footprints in the sand of Christianity's L. Ron Hubbard, Jesus, I will not cast the first stone at the Joplin kid who shot his grandma with an air rifle
. For one thing, you'd be surprised how much you can achieve when you make eye contact with a spouse, a prospective employer or a grandmother down the sight of an air rifle. A backrub, a job or a pan of brownies, respectively. Was this kid's grandma failing to meet his brownie needs? Or was she, as the kid's father claimed, "Crazy," and likely to shoot herself with an air rifle just to get her grandson in trouble? I really think
we have to ask that question.
After the jump, a look at everything I'm thankful for. Click here or here or I'ma put a CAP IN YOUR ASS, GRANDMA:
Over the Missouri River and through Corporate Woods, to grandmother's house with an air rifle we go: Tomorrow's Thanksgiving, y'all, the day we express culinary gratitude for our (YOUR) fat, American groin-eclipsing guts by sliding a variety of mayonnaise-lubricated carbohydrates through our alimentary tracts and then wondering why we get so sleepy after dinner. Hint: It ain't the mythical "triptophan" alleged to be gushing through the bones of turkeys. It's actually just the sugar crash that accompanies the traditional celebratory insulin spike your pancreas fires off on the fourth Thursday of every November, and, face it, every other goddamn day of the year. Will it be your last triumphant glucose uptake before your pancreas explodes, like a battery in a pizza oven? Or is it good for another year? Another meal? It's just like a time bomb. DON'T CUT THE RED WIRE! BOOM! Now you're Wilford Brimley! Jesus, you guys, ever heard of "vegetables?"
Anyway, it's not like I don't know that I've been fortunate, and I am grateful for all my blessings and whatnot, so here is my traditional annual list of Thanksgiving acknowledgments:
- All my homies on the Plog first shift, ain't no one on the corner got swagga like us. That goes for you, too, Shift Supe Faysal Alkhaiwani.
- Seasons 1 through 5 of The Wire; it's not TV, y'all, it's muthafuckin' HBO.
- The Hydroxycut diet plan, which helped me lose 75 pounds and fit into these jeans from college.
- My healthy pancreas, which is so robust I be uptakin' y'all's glucose from all the way across the muthafuckin' room.
- My awesome girlfriend, we are totally Bone Thugs and Sweeties 4 Life.
- Whatever apparently undiagnosed high-functioning neurobiological syndrome causes Kansas City Mayor Mark Funkhouser to be completely unable to empathise with City Hall office workers or anyone who thinks his marriage is weird.
- My four-day Thanksgiving reprieve from Daily Briefs.
- My puppy, Li'l Princess Blood Feast.
- All y'all readers who check out Briefs every day, especially the commenters, Wumble, Doc, Mallory, Tracy, Gus and everyone else.
I'm also thankful for my mom and dad, President-Elect Barack Obama, and a little document by America's founding fathers called the Surface Mining Control and Reclamation Act of 1977 that gave us all our freedoms and created a program for reclaiming abandoned mine lands.
-- By Chris Packham