Thanksgivin's coming up next week, boys and girls. Make sure you get your comfortable asses out to a shelter and volunteer your services at the soup kitchen before heading home to a delicious home-cooked meal at your ma or pa's. Or your girlfriend, wife, boyfriend, or husband's ma or pa's. Or your mistresses or cabana boy's ma or pa's. Wherever you happen to be going, it's all the same.
Even if you want to start the party early and pour some bloody mary's into a flask and have a few glugs as you work the ladle, that's not frowned upon. 'Specially if you were to be so kind as to allow for ole Quint to have a pull or two while you dished him out a bowl of hot turkey porridge.
So make sure you pack the family in the car and make your way down to the homeless shelter as you listen to ole Arlo sing his heart out about Alice's Restaurant. Teach your kids about the meaning of Thanksgiving. Remind them of their duty to give back and Squanto and pilgrims and all that shit. But most importantly - in case you didn't pick up on the subtleties above - bring a flask or two filled to the brim with hot, liver tickling booze. It's good for ya and ole Quint will be truly thankful for it. I'm allergic to turkey anyway. And bullshit. So don't tell me you're flying to your Aunt Tilly's in Spokane. Make it happen!!!
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