What I'm Thankful For

(By Cyril Blubberpuss)

     How!
     At least that's what the red squatters used to say when they lived here. Alright, maybe I'm a little late for the giving of thanks but it was only within the last hour or two that I was able to move again after yesterday's feast at Kevin's Authentic Indian Food on 1st Avenue (Funny, isn't it, why more Indian restaurants aren't open on Thanksgiving considering they stole the idea from us?).
     Anyway, I'm here to tell you all about what makes me thankful, because, after all, that's how Thanksgiving's been co-opted. And, as usual, it's up to me to revise history for you ignorant slobs so you'd better listen up.
     It all started sometime before 1900, maybe a good time before that, when people from England and Holland came over supposedly to escape "religious persecution." Well, maybe the English (and especially the popish micks later) had a beef but the Hollish actually had a lot of religious freedom back where they came from in the Netherregions.
     In our revision of history, we adopted the erroneous narrative that the Limeys and the Hollish came over to escape religious freedom and to pioneer a brave New World that would one day proudly proclaim. "Feed a man corn, you feed him for a day. Teach him how to plant corn, he will rape your wives, acculturize your children, turn you into rotting corpses and steal your land."
     But that's not what it was really about. The American colonies were started as profit centers, a place in which religious freedom was paid lip service and tolerated like the dried-out piece of bubble gum that used to come with the trading cards. The Dutch were especially keen to do more than just eke a living out of Manhattan, for instance. My native city was, in fact, once named New Amsterdam before the Limeys looked at the Hollish and said, "Oy, we want some o' that shite!" or whatever they said between drinking songs and lap dances at the inn.
     Wealthy and well-to-do merchants came to our shores fleeing the brutal English and Dutch winters looking for ways to grow tobacco and cotton and, with the help of some contract workers from Africa, succeeded beyond their wildest expectations. The industry flourished under this new temp program between here and Africa for close to 250 years before Abe Lincoln fucked it up.
     In a way, that's what Donald Trump, the first bald President since Eisenhower, has done on this same Manhattan Island. With the help of some penniless, rootless Polack workers, he built Trump Tower, the Kremlin of 5th Avenue, and turned this borough into something. The Russkies, yearning to teem the shores of the internet, wanted in and he graciously let them with the help of Jack Dorsey and Mark Zuckerberg.
    

     And, in a way that's the same exact entrepreneurial spirit that my baby brother Cecil brought from eastern Europe when he founded www.cecilsprays.com. It had and always will have the distinction of being the world's first internet sex chat room and Cecil put the "ho" in SoHo. From an abandoned sex doll factory in what used to be Yugoslavia, these scantily-clad Aryan Adonises worked their magic catering to the fevered fantasies of horny Republican men from coast to coast.
     And up until the moment before ICE and the FBI raided his SoHo loft whilst he was in mid-orgasm, Cecil was giving these former college students bound for dreary careers in medicine, law and engineering a taste of the American dream. Because it is the right and Manifest Destiny for white American males to show the rest of the world and the other races what they can truly achieve if they but dispense with silly notions about cultural identity and "freedom."
     You want to know what real freedom is? Freedom is the ability to clutch a warm, smoking gun and knowing that you just made a horrible rash decision in the heat of the moment because George fucking Washington and his bewigged friends said you could.
     But that is how America was founded, ladies and gentlemen, by the Hollish and the English looking to make a fast buck then hiring temp workers from the Middle Passage when they realized how back-breaking the work was. And, thanks to the tobacco and textile industries giving those African temp workers a leg up in their own pursuit in the American dream, now they're able to make rap videos at poolside wearing hubcap-sized bling and backwards ball caps made of white ermine.
     So let it never be said the white man did not give them and so many other races more than a tantalizing taste of the American Dream. We started as a brutal profit center and may God grant us another 250 years of brutal profit. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go mail off some estrogen to my baby brother Cecil at Riker's Island.