It’s me the Honorable Reverend Benjamin. I’m thinking of getting that on my license because…why not? (Why not take a crazy chance? Why not do a crazy dance?) I can’t think of a downside, really.
I have a doozy of a sermon for you this week, so let’s get straight to the musical number. Open up your hymnals to “ALIVE” by our wonderful saints, the boys of One Direction.
Very good, boys, very good!
Now, time for my very important message at this dire time in American history!
Flock! I am deeply alarmed, I’m incredibly troubled, and I’m pissed at the constant attack on traditional American values that I’ve been seeing this Thanksgiving season. There is a constant barrage of whining losers who are whinging and complaining that the Thanksgiving season is for spending time with family and chopping up dead birds and for shopping at the boutiques of local vendors. APPALLING.
Every good American knows the truth. Thanksgiving is not meant for getting together with family! If you do, you secretly nip a bit of gin out of your hip flask. Nobody wants to drive four hours to see family. Nonsense. Worse, there are people that fly all the way across the country for this purpose. I don’t understand this phenomenon and I don’t ever want to. Thanksgiving is a time for being thankful that we’ve all got a day off work or school. It’s meant for going to movies and restaurants and the mall with your friends and the family you actually like, because let’s get real here, flock, nobody really cares all that much about their family. It’s not harsh. It’s reality. Family is full of whining people and awkward questions. No thank you, your reverend shall be at home on Thanksgiving. I’m in no mood for all that socializing.
Now, I can deal with this family idiocy, but I will not tolerate all the attacks on Black Friday. This is a holiday just as important to those of you who choose to celebrate with a family dinner. For those of us that don’t care much about that, we eagerly look forward to going to the mall at midnight and being carried by the crowd from one shop to another with a crappy cup of free hot cocoa in hand. We go crazy for a seventeen dollar sweater at the Tommy Hilfiger shop. Seeing people lose their shit and come near to slaughtering the competition for a barely discounted television is the joy of life. Shopping is the meaning of Thanksgiving. Don’t even get me started on Cyber Monday, which is equally wondrous! People go on about buying things from local vendors. But, who wants their shit? Nobody. I want a Vespa, not some coasters made out of salvaged fallen timber by some hobo with a shop. NO THANKS. Besides, have you ever been into one of their boutiques? Always the same tragedy. There will be an IKEA chandelier, a bunch of mismatched furniture (to look quirky), the salesperson will look like a sad hipster, they won’t accept Discover cards, and the place has some awful indy band playing in the background. I CAN’T DEAL WITH THIS.
Now, on to the last point of my Thanksgiving rant: TURKEYS. Even if I wasn’t a vegetarian, I’d be shouting this all to you. Why are you all murdering millions of ugly birds for a meal you aren’t going to like? Turkey is the absolute worst. It’s dry and flavorless and horrible and nothing can save it; there is no way to make turkey acceptable. Think of all those sad dead birds. Think of them as you tear through their innocent flesh. Cry over it. I’ll be eating a pizza.
I hate Thanksgiving.