Two years into Covid-19...let's be this year's Deplorable Thanksgiving!

I'm the little candles set up in front of print out pictures of Aunt Tammi, Cousin Kayden, Big Ol' Ross, Hunter Jr., Brandi (Hunter's girlfriend) and Meemaw O'Toole.

I'm the solemn declaration at the start of the meal that none of the above will ever be forgotten.

I'm also twenty minutes later when the above are completely forgotten when Cousin Jayden accuses Marci of stealing his tater tots.

I'm the cremation urns lined up on a closet shelf until someone "gets around" to the final dispositions.

If and when.

I’m the very rusty social skills.

I'm the realization that Aunt Maude will no longer be bringing her cranberry Jello that no one ate anyway on account of everyone knowing that she invariably ashed into it at some point.

Jesus needed an angel.

And some shit desserts.

I'm Uncle Billy, who no one's checked on since April 2020.

I'm the cranberry sauce in a can. Laverne brought three cans, so there'll be enough after she "accidentally" knocks her cousin Lance's fresh cranberry-orange relish into the trash.

I'm the heartfelt and passionate denunciation of vaccines to a room full of people with a dozen recently deceased relatives.

I am also the relatives shaking their heads in full agreement.

I'm the discreet goodbye to mom from the gay son who has had enough of forced attempts to eat side dishes that relatives he secretly hates brought, checking his phone constantly to see what time his drinking emporium opens. Mom agrees it's best when he threatens to slam his aunt's drunk husband's face into the left over marshmallow Jello desert that has been barely been touched. Cousin Greg, out smoking on the patio swing, notices a huge smile erupt as he walks out indicating that he's free. The rest of the family comments on his sudden absence, noting that this is the first time he's come to a family function in about five years.

I'm the large bottle of Ivermectin placed in a highly visible location in the dining room. Help yourself.

I'm the wonderment that about a half dozen guests share and express that the food seems to lack all flavor this year.

[quote]Jesus needed an angel.

Man, I am LITERALLY up to my ass in angels.

I'm the audio for the TV football game.

I'm the strict no-masks rule.

We're goin' full tilt boogie: no masks, no tests, no distancing, no vaccinations and lotsa cigarette smoke. Suck it, Joe Bideeeeen!!

I'm the post-holiday spike.

And I don't mean next day's Kool-Aid punch.

I'm the picture of Mr. President Donald Trump Sir taped to a folding chair, so it's like he's here as our honored guests and all. When five-year old Tammi Sue climbs into the chair, her momma swats her out of it faster than knocking a bluetail off the Sunday meatloaf.

Delusion, thy name is Datalounge liberals.

We're settin' 2 places for the Honorable 45th President and his most gracious wife Melania. MAGA!

[quote]I'm the fewer folding chairs necessary.

Genius

I'm the puzzling yet deeply felt frustration that weighs on all of them.

Lets go Brandon!

I'm R22 in printed form on T-Shirts , hoodies, beanies, and blankets. I am also printed on mugs that hold the Coors Light and Budweiser or the football viewers.

I'm the terrified Branch Covidian (double masked and triple jabbed) sneaking into the bathroom to jerk off to Sorryantixaxxer.com

I'm R24, entering the house and wondering why they can't smell the turkey.

I'm the pumpkin pie decorated on top with the letter "Q" in whipped cream.

R1 Meemaw O'Toole was a Catholic. Sad. One step up from Jehovah's Witness iffen you ask me.