Happy turkey day, Soupy Trumpet readers! Be glad your white-ass Puritan ancestors got schooled by Squanto & co., thereby finally learning how to grow corn. (Dumbasses.) And if your ancestors were of other origin, consider yourself lucky. You might actually be able to have sex, spend money on yourself, and say things like “Gottverflucht” without feeling guilty. (Unless, of course, Squanto, et. al. were your ancestors, in which case we apologize for not being MORE thankful after that whole “First Thanksgiving” thing.)

 What a weird holiday. But it’s a great excuse to celebrate God, food, and imperialism. At any rate, boys: get thee to a huskerie (by which I mean the dining room table) and consume thyself some yummy-ass food until thy stomach grow large and husky, and thy head grow tired. Then sit thee down in a comfy Lay-Z-Boy, unbutton thy trousers and watch thee some football. I shall do likewise (except without the football, since we have no network TV up here).

 Happy Thanksgiving, y’all!