Thanksgivin'

Thanksgiving is the celebration of that fated day when the savage Indians domesticated themselves like house pets and graced the Jesus-loving Fundamentalist's dinner party with an astonishing display of proper table etiquette and utinsel-use.

Put down that spear and pick up that salad fork!
No, you can't use the carcass for a mail box.
If God wanted us to run around the woods naked, why did he make fiber glass.
Fawn-soft loin clothes may make good napkins, but Mrs. Smith, please keep your hands above the table where we can see them.

Decades later, the civil union will be celebrated with white trash dream catchers and air-brushed wolf shirts. These items will be sold at affordable prices along the ancient nomadic trails disguised as truck stops. Porcelain busts of brown skinned princesses and bead-decorated, rawhide maccosins will always remind us that on that particular day the Lord loved the Native blood as much as he loved pencils and hockey.

His loves just never stops.