The horror, the horror in Talk Radio

I never liked Thanksgiving. I was always getting yelled at to ‘clean my plate’ and Thanksgiving is the biggest fucking plate.

I can now as an adult like or at least tolerate most of the individual dishes I once always refused… but I’ll never forget how the same kind of people who hate to see to see me being visibly weird, who don’t want to have who I am ‘shoved down their throat,’ would’ve literally resorted to shoving food down my throat when I was too small to fight back.

It’s not just Thanksgiving. There’s a dense world of social obligation and resentment when my brain couldn’t be Pavlov’d with doggy treats, finish dinner to get desert, or stop being ADHD sit quietly and stop annoying adults for a pizza party.

But Thanksgiving is definitely the pinnacle of food rituals that ask a lot of me, doesn’t offer anything I care about, still somehow entitled to my gratitude.

I swear this social entrapment with food wears down personal boundaries until the bread and potatoes literally distill into alcoholism.

And the sports– ugh– no wonder Thanksgiving and sports go together. It’s all so tribal, excessive, and obligatory.

And that’s just the nice, whitewashed, non-smallpox-y holiday legacy we are left with after a real history of apocalypse and horror.