When The Turkeys Get You Down

For those who don’t know; drawing these delicious strutting meatball monsters is kind of a pain in the ass unless you simplify all the feathers.

Happy Thanksgiving, everybody! Come on in and grab a plate and a chair, there’s plenty of food and room at the table for all of you. Just chuck your mask in the bushes by the curb, with all the discarded latex gloves, empty sanitizer bottles and other accepted detritus of 2020. I care about coronavirus even less than my neighbors care about litter or landscape pollution.

Oh, and in the interest of diplomacy, and keeping peace at the table, I promise not to bring up any incendiary topics. Not a one; scout’s honor.

  • I promise not to bring up the fact that after the 3rd of this month, the entire media complex decided to lie about something I witnessed firsthand, and have continued to do so, basically gaslighting the entire country. Totally won’t bring up how Trump won re-election in a landslide, and how some people despise him so intensely that they’re helping coordinate all news and social media to force a lie until it “becomes” true. Won’t waste anyone’s time with the fact that speaking the truth gets you mislabeled as a “conspiracy theorist”. Wouldn’t dream of it, my friends.
  • I swear, I would never dare to allude to my belief that all Biden supporters are disgusting sellouts who deserve to be shunned. I won’t bring up a single one of the many Democrats upon whom I wouldn’t piss were they ablaze, and whom I can produce hard evidence that publicly incited violence, censorship, or other anti-social behaviors. I can’t find a source behind the famous quote attributed to LBJ (“I’ll have those niggers voting Democratic for 200 years”), so of course I wouldn’t talk about that. Why would I? It would just make people uncomfortable! Confused, even!
  • Honestly, I won’t even bring up the impending tax on every gun (plus a tax on the ammo), and how sincerely you should burn in the absolute depths of Hell if you support these fucking cardinal whores.
  • You have my word that I will mask [LOL] the white-hot resentment I feel towards every single person who shrieked, cried, whined and complained about Trump for FOUR FUCKING YEARS and acted like it was a personality, a career, or anything but obnoxious. You won’t hear a peep about how I’m going to make their lives every bit the living hell they made mine. You and my other guests need not fear squirming in terror while I icily inform you that this is not a threat, but a promise. No one needs a reminder that I nurse grudges to the bitter end when it comes to unrepentant and abhorrent mountebanks. Look that up in your Funk & Wagnalls.
  • If, during our meal, anyone is foolhardy enough to recommend The Mandalorian, I assure you I will not remark “I suppose you’re the kind of person who suggests a rape victim return to their rapist.” That would be tasteless, however horribly accurate it might be.
  • Lastly, I promise that I’ll pretend like this won’t be our last-ever gathering, and that this will be a beloved perennial tradition. I won’t act like I’ve lost respect for pretty much everybody, and that only a handful of living people don’t make me want to fucking puke. I will choke back my disappointment, loathing, and crushing malaise. I will affix a happy face over my gnashing, knotted visage for the duration of our supping. Honest Injun!

Alright; let’s eat! Although we favor tradition here (especially when the current options are solitary confinement and ideolunatic mayhem), we forego saying grace, because Christians get called mean names on the internet, and it’s better to forsake your beliefs than draw the attention of people who riot, pillage or murder to make their point. It’s the 2020’s, folks. The terrormongers call the shots.

Before I forget; are there any vegans here? Let me have your attention please. At the back of the room you will find a door. Take care not to let it hit you on your exit. It’s Thanksgiving and I’m giving you food. Your belief that your own needs trump charity is no virtue. People like you make it impossible to simply enjoy the holiday with family and friends, because everything becomes about you, and how to better accommodate and indulge your “modern quirks”.

Oh- you have food allergies? I beg your pardon, the last few months have macerated my social buffer. It’s not your fault that people like myself have been insulted so incessantly by so-called “progressives” that reflexively, we now treat everyone as opposing belligerents. That’s what happens when your job is threatened over an offhand opinion (or even a fact) that you once shared. When every experience with other people is negative for almost a full year, you tend to roll up the red carpet, shutter the windows and tell the rest of the neighborhood to go fuck themselves.

Hey, I heard that. “Who does he think he is?” I’m about to make you regret even thinking those words.

Thankfully, I am an American cartoonist, who, due to my lack of profitability and my general disagreeableness, does not suffer the binding ties of corporate slavery. I set up shop on the Internet during a time when it was about the free exchange of ideas, not invented liabilities. Merit still mattered when I started out. It wasn’t yet tossed aside to make room for racial and political pandering, or misrepresentation of murder victims for the purposes of social prestige, office promotion and/or swift razing of other people’s property.

Thankfully, I have had the pleasure of operating this website, wherein I have plumbed the darkest recesses of my creative animus, freely for the last six years, for an audience of tens of thousands, all over the world. If for some unforeseen reason I stop, or am forced to stop, at least I made it that far. I made my little mark. For this, I am thankful.

Thankfully, I still have family and friends who support and understand what I do. I plan to focus almost exclusively on them, and cut literally everyone who pisses me off out of my life completely. This will probably be the last article that won’t appear on my Patreon first. As Mac said in the unfairly-maligned fourth Indiana Jones, I’m a capitalist. And they pay.

It didn’t really work out for him, but it’s still a good line, so bite me.

Thankfully, there are over 500 pages on this website from which to pluck reruns, so that I can remind today’s goldfish-brained consumers that I used to be funny, not unpleasant to be around, and the twinkle in my eyes wasn’t yet smothered by immeasurable chagrin. Believe it or not, there was a time when I had the passion and nicety to prepare a sumptuous Thanksgiving feast like the following:

Comic Relief 1985 (11/25/2014)
Comic Relief 1985 Part II: Electric Marmaduke (11/22/2016)

Thankfully, there are still people out there who believe in free expression, and the “American Dream”, and here’s hoping that one day they’ll find themselves in Big Tech and/or government, so they can keep those torches lit. Because frankly, they’re being blown out like so many birthday candles.

And the ones who’ve done nothing but bitch since 2016 will be cheering.

Sorry! Sorry! Please, don’t leave, won’t happen again. Here, have some more turkey!

I… just made things worse, didn’t I?

Ehh, you know what, fuck it. When everyone is offended all the time, it’s impossible to care what anyone is offended about. It makes you resent any kind of sensitivity, because sensitivity has been weaponized by weak people, out of resentment for those they perceive as stronger than they are.

You still haven’t seen Empire of Dust, have you?

Thankfully, I’m not the only one who sees through the Orwellian media narrative bullshit. Thankfully, you’re here.

I have to remind myself to be thankful for the things that truly matter, and not allow the turkeys of the world to get me down. Even as a kid I was a grouch, to the point where my Aunt Connie gifted me a mug bearing the famous inspirational cartoon by Sandra Boynton.

I’m thankful to still be kicking about, and I’m thankful you are too, whatever that’s worth.

Happy Thanksgiving.

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