The Thanksgiving Story

Snoopy-Woodstock-Thanksgiving2

As I bought a loaf of bread I wished the man at the counter, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“I know of this holiday.” The gray bearded Italian said, “but I do not know what that means.”

As someone who sees it as my duty to educate the ignorant I felt obliged to bring class to session in the bakery. “It is a day when you come together with your family and give thanks.”

“For what?”

“Some people express thankfulness for the bounty of food placed in front of them, others for the company they get to keep. Some are grateful for a day off to watch or play a little football, for some it’s a marker that they made it through another year. I guess in a nutshell gratitude is what Thanksgiving is all about.”

“Oh, yes Thanksgiving. The day you Americans commemorate Native people feeding you when you were starving and reciprocating their charity with a genocide that would have made Pol Pot and Hitler blush, you then celebrate with gluttony and flatulence with the ritual slaughter of millions of birds and by watching a game where underprivileged men are highly paid to try to knock their fellow gladiator to the ground.”

“I suppose that’s one way to put it. But I thought you didn’t know what Thanksgiving was?”

“Do you take me for an idiot?” He asked. “Of course I know about Thanksgiving. It is happiness I wish to learn about.”

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2 thoughts on “The Thanksgiving Story

  1. Tell that commie if he doesn’t like it here, then he can row a boat to Cuba. Can’t wait for President Trump to throw all these clowns back over the wall.

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