1200 Watts of Freedom VI: Thanksgiving

It may surprise you to learn that while growing up, I was a little particular regarding my Thanksgiving meal. I mean, there’s a reason we don’t eat that kind of crap throughout the rest of the year, am I right? Unless you frequent Boston Market, of course, in which case… I hate to say it, but f*ck you, that’s gross. Big ole flappy ham bits up in your face, floppin’ all over your rebranded Stouffer’s mac n’ cheese. And like, soda and stuff. Not sure what else they have.

Anyway, in true 1200 Watts style, I thought I’d give you a rundown of the most common Thanksgiving foods in my various households, because you care so very much about my neuroses. Load up a plate, bring your smartphone to the dinner table, and ignore your family while learning all about what you’ve done wrong!

Green Beans: They have a poop chute, like crustaceans, only nobody has the common decency to pull them out. There’s about a 5 percent cooking/seasoning window for these things to actually taste good, so I’d just skip them altogether in order to avoid any sort of awkward “spitting up a weird unchewable hard bit into your napkin” incident. Or now that I think about it, just go for it. People love that sh*t.

Yams/Sweet Potatoes: Yes, there’s a difference. No, I don’t care what it is. While I love me some greasy sweet potato fries, whatever discombobulated nonsense Grandma gets up to in the kitchen around this time of year only seems to produce a casserole dish of stringy, orange barf that’s so grody she feels the need to melt marshmallows all over it. Ever heard the phrase “you can’t polish a turd?” Well, guess what? You can’t marshmallow them into tasting good, either.

Cranberry Sauce: Pure as an infant child, or at least in theory. Babies are actually really gross and screaming and covered in bloody goo. And that’s how I get when some jackas* brings out The Sauce and it’s that lumpy homemade kind. Canned and gelatinous is the only way to fly.

Turkey: Well, turkeys are gross and the meat is literally carved from their filthy corpses, so no thanks. I also try not to celebrate how glad I am to be alive and have family and stuff by contributing to torture and genocide, no matter how American it is.

Ham: See Turkey, only nastier.

Mashed Potatoes: No words can describe how much I love this soft root putty. Butter, salt, pepper… endless architectural opportunities. Ever build a potato penis tower? Five stars, highly recommended. Five-year-old friends of the family will snort coke out of their noise and their mom will get angry, but try to stay polite about it. Because of Thanksgiving. Also, super good for sticking stuff you don’t want to the underside of the table.

Corn: Corn is a really enjoyable part of the meal, cob or not… as long as nobody mixes it in with a bunch of steamed carrot bits and peas and crap. I really don’t understand why the hell people keep doing that. It’s weird, and you’re pissing people off.

That Wiggley Green Thing: No.

Milk: Every once in a while I see someone pour themselves a tall, frothy glass of udder juice for Thanksgiving. This usually happens about three or four seconds before I slap them across the face and call the police.

Rolls: Everything that’s good can be stuck in it. That’s what I call teamwork. Cramming about six of them down your throat is also a good way to legitimately be too full to eat something that you’d rather not, even though somebody worked really, really hard on it.

That’s it for this edition. Go away.

By Johnny Beaver