In honor of Thanksgiving, The Amazing Markimus proudly presents the following column, which was originally published in 2000.
Our nation will soon observe one of the most beloved, anticipated, important days of the year. But before our nation observes Super Bowl Sunday, it will observe another beloved, anticipated, important day of the year, a day that revolves around family, friendship and a deliciously moist dead bird. Despite the enormous popularity of this holiday, many Americans are shockingly ignorant about its origins. That’s because many Americans weren’t paying attention in class. Instead of listening to an interesting lesson about their brave forefathers, many Americans were shooting spitwads at a snotty little tattletale named Becky Lingenfelter, who was standing tragically close to meanest teacher in the world, an unforgiving woman who was still angry at many Americans for incorrectly naming Christopher Columbus’ three ships (the Nostril, the Pinky and the Pina Colada). While many Americans were in the principal’s office, trying to explain how the poorly aimed projectile ended up in the teacher’s right ear, and imagining the severe buttocks pain that would occur when their biological forefathers administer the dreaded Loving Hand of Discipline, the rest of the class was learning the following fascinating lesson about Thanksgiving:
Long ago, even before the invention of spit wads, a courageous group of people called the Pilgrims left their homeland because they were sick and tired of living in a place where everybody talked with a funny foreign accent. (These pilgrims shouldn’t be confused with “Da Pilgrimz,” a gangsta rap band that was deported from the Old World after the release of their controversial CD, “Take DAT, Mutha England!,” which included a violent, profanity-laced song entitled, “Musket Noyz From Da Pilgrim Boyz.”) The unhappy Pilgrims yearned for a land that was free of religious prosecution, a land where full-grown men didn’t wear silly white wigs during serious governmental proceedings, a land where delicious wild turkeys and mouth-watering boneless hams roamed the fruited plains, just waiting to be shot, cooked and devoured on Thanksgiving Day.
But life in the New World wasn’t easy for the Pilgrims. Their unexpected arrival alarmed many manly, muscular Native Americans, who were deeply offended by the male settlers’ feminine apparel. (Baggy pajama-like pants, lacy cuffs and frilly collars were a flagrant violation of the New World’s dress code.) This resentment turned into armed conflict after one Native American overheard one of the “sissy Pilgrims” say, “Hey, guys! Wouldn’t this unspoiled meadow be a perfect spot for a strip mall?!” The ensuing battles raged until a greedy slot machine salesman, who hoped that an end to the fighting would eventually lead to the construction of several lucrative Indian gaming casinos, arranged a high-level peace summit. Here is the actual transcript from that historic event:
Pilgrim: Stop shooting us with those sharp arrows!
Native American: Stop shooting us with those primitive firearms! And start wearing some masculine clothes!
Pilgrim: Here are some worthless trinkets and a snack bag of peanuts from our flight on the Concorde. Can we let bygones be bygones?
Native American: Forget the stupid trinkets, girly-man. How about a few shares of Microsoft? And what the heck are bygones?
Greedy Slot Machine Salesman: Hey, you guys are getting along like old friends! Can we start building some casinos?
To commemorate their peace agreement, the former enemies planned an extravagant feast called Thanksgiving. (“Thanksgiving” was a new word coined by abbreviating the phrase “Thanks for giving us those shares of Microsoft.”) Everybody worked together to make this new holiday a tremendous success. The women were in charge of slaughtering, disemboweling, cleaning, stuffing and cooking the various meat-bearing creatures. They were also in charge of setting the table, warming the brown ‘n’ serve dinner rolls, and baking the pies. Oh, yeah, and they were also in charge of washing the dishes. The men were in charge of watching football games. The first Thanksgiving was so enjoyable that the new neighbors decided to make it an annual event.
So, my fellow thankful Americans, as we prepare to celebrate this uniquely American holiday, let us remember the prophetic words of one happy Pilgrim, who said, “I’ll bet this turkey day thing is gonna be really big!” to which the greedy slot machine salesman replied, “Did somebody say ‘bet’?”
Mark Mayfield has a feeling that he’ll have to wash his own dishes after Thanksgiving dinner.
This column is copyright protected. Permission to reprint or electronically reproduce it in whole or in part is expressly prohibited unless prior written consent is obtained from Mark Mayfield

HE HAS STRANGE POWERS
Saturday, November 22, 2008
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