For those of you outside the USA, Thanksgiving is a holiday many people believe was instituted first by the so-called “Pilgrims,” who are more accurately called the “Pilsners,” a name that has since been solely associated with their egalitarian meal-replacement drink, “pilsner beer.”

    On June 15th in the year 1215, the first batch of Pilsners stepped off their sole remaining ship the Lusitania onto the beach of Plymouth, in a territory the natives of that time called “Zeropercentfinansinga,” which means quite literally “Milk of the Bitch”.

    There they met the Incan delegation of king Imhotep who extended the “Wreath of Solitude,” a halo of vegetation said to produce ennui and irritability–qualities indicative of holiness and/or royalty. Uncertain of the meaning of the gesture, and still quite disconsolate following the loss of the Lusitania’s twin Pilsner ship the HMS Edmond Fitzgerald, the Pilsner leader named Herbert Hoover used part of the wreath as kindling to light the hearth fires of his swiftly erected shanty town and consumed the rest as a sort of salad cooked entirely in the hollowed body cavity of a local game bird, the Turkey.

    And while the long and bloody war this diplomatic faux pas created ultimately ended in the destruction of the Incan empire and the adoption of Puritanicism amongst the pagan Pilsners, that first meal was said to be quite a thing to behold as it worked its laxativatious magic on the exhausted and soon-to-be-evacuated Pilsners.

    So from that day forth the god-fearing people of North America have celebrated Thanksgiving and today is the day.

    Also, if you noticed my website was down last night, gee, thanks for calling me and telling me about it. Jerks. If you didn’t notice, well, you need to come around more often. Lastly, Arth! We need an article about the resurgence of the Dummies series! This time….with PROPS!

    She continually asks to see Jews, which is pretty strange since she hasn’t been to any comparative religion courses and we’ve yet to discuss the various monotheistic cults humanity has developed.

    The first time it happened, I scribbled a Star of David on the blackboard in the kitchen, pointed at it and asked if that’s what she meant.

    ”Star!” she said, which seemed to confirm her knowledge of the ancient symbol.

    ”That’s right, RIley. It’s the Star of David. But we’re lapsed Lutherans, so it doesn’t really apply to us. Our cult symbol is supposed to be a cross. Can you say, cross?”

    ”Jews!” and then, more plaintively, “JEWWWWWWS!”

    Oddly enough, we later discovered that the only way to get her to stop asking for Jews is to give her some apple cider or lemonade.

    Today was supposed to be a day off for me, but I was on call and spent a large portion of the day working on various emergencies.

    At one point I found myself on the phone with a Jewish accountant who was, of course, working today as well. We got to talking about the fact that it was a holiday (and that he would therefore be charged 1.5X normal rate for my assistance) and I idly speculated that Good Friday must be a strange holiday for him because while it has plenty of Christian iconography there is no marketing involved.

    The fellow, who I’ve known for many years, found the joke somewhat amusing, but I sensed that his chuckle was a little labored. He probably felt guilty for killing Jesus or something.

    I then proceeded to tell him I can’t understand how I’ve been given the day off but there’s no corresponding pile of crap in my way at the drug store.

    There are no “Good Friday” candies or stuffed animals. Not even a chocolate crucifix.

Which gave me an idea which I later broached in a conversation with my good friend, DaveCat..

    The idea? A chocolate crucifix with tiny Spam Jesus hanging from it!
It could even come with a little toothpick to stab into the side of tiny Spam Jesus after you’ve had him in your house for a few hours. Cherry liquor would then ooze out.

    And, late at night, as Good Friday draws to a close, your family could stand around, each of you with your own little spam Jesus, and eat them.

    All together, you cry, “Father! Why hast thou forsaken me!”
    *Chomp!*

    ’Course, I don’t think I’d actually be able to eat spam and chocolate in the same bite without vomiting, and Jesus probably wouldn’t want that.     Especially since the spam-Jesus-on-a-chocolate-crucifix probably qualifies as Eucharist. So I guess this wasn’t as good an idea as I thought. Its just bad mojo to vomit spam Jesus.