When we do Thanksgiving with my wife’s family, it’s at my brother-in-law’s house. In spite of the majority of her family being filthy dirty Fox News viewers, and my wife and I being angelic virtuous hippies, we usually only have to worry about my brother-in-law’s wife’s terrible cooking, and not politics.

Food offenses committed this year by our hostess-with-the-mostest included:

  • Killing my green bean casserole by putting it in the oven to warm at 200 with the other sides, but leaving it in there for almost 2 hours and cranking the heat up to 350 at some point. The foil on top of it saved it from being inedible, but it was quite mushy and brown. All crunch had been sapped out of the fried onions on top.
  • Asking me to make gravy out of the turkey drippings but neglecting to mention that they were 90% melted butter, which prevented anything resembling gravy from forming. Thankfully she had powdered gravy mix as a backup plan.

Both my wife and I were craving more Thanksgiving food so last night I made a vegetarian mini-Thanksgiving dinner that included a Tofurky “ham”, stuffing, not-cooked-to-death green bean casserole, and drop biscuits.

The Tofurky thing kinda tasted like bologna, but it was at least a semi-acceptable vehicle for vegetable stock gravy. Everything else I made from scratch and was delicious, AND THE GREEN BEANS IN THE CASSEROLE WERE INTACT AND STILL GREEN.

Aside from the food, there are only a couple of other traditional annoyances of Thanksgiving with my wife’s family. For some ungodly reason they dress up in nice clothes instead of being comfortable but this year I got sly and picked out some particularly comfy clothes that could pass as sorta-nice casual. Seriously, who the fuck dresses up on Thanksgiving? Assholes, that’s who.

And then there’s my wife’s sister who organizes Secret Santa, except a few years ago decided that instead of actually doing Secret Santa, everyone has to write a 3-item wish list on an index card and people draw index cards out of a hat. Then on Christmas we get to guess which random family member had the pleasure of fulfilling our wish list we came up with in the car on the way to Thanksgiving while cursing this stupid tradition 48 times and complaining that we can’t think of anything for our wish list. “I wonder who got me this thing I wrote down?”

But that’s not what this post is about! Nooo, it’s about that one fucking guy at Thanksgiving who decided this year he was going to talk about politics. A lot. My wife’s brother’s wife’s sister’s husband. I don’t know what official relative category he falls into, but this year he decided to put himself in the category of That One Motherfucker At Your Thanksgiving Who Talks About Politics.

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It started out shortly after I arrived, when everyone was hanging around drinking and having snacks. A football game was on TV, and he complained out loud to his son that “your generation doesn’t care about the players kneeling, but I’m not watching it.” His son said something non-confrontational like, “you’re right, we just watch the games.”

Later on after most people had polished off their first plate of food, he decided that would be a good time to joyfully talk about how he was considering joining the ranks of “good conservatives” who are smashing their Keurig machines in response to Keurig pulling their ads from Sean Hannity’s show after Sean Hannity came out in support of alleged serial creeper-of-teenagers Roy Moore. He explained in great detail that if you smash the machine you won’t buy any more K-cups, and the Keurig company makes their money on the K-cups, not the machines, like razor blades, but for some reason he kept calling K-cups “bullets,” as if that was a generally-accepted term that people also call K-cups.

I felt my anger at That One Motherfucker At Your Thanksgiving Who Talks About Politics starting to rise. I thought about telling him maybe instead of being pissed off at black football players taking a knee during the national anthem, he should be pissed off at the thing they’re protesting: that black and brown people get shot and killed by the cops way more often than white people. I thought about telling him that siding with a likely sexual abuser by smashing a shitty coffee machine because the company that makes it pulled its ads from a tv show that supported that abuser, is cutting off your nose to spite your face and also means that you were stupid enough to buy that shitty coffee machine in the first place.

But I didn’t want to engage him in a real conversation, because that would extend the politics talk. So I decided it was time for sarcastic insults that would (hopefully) quickly end the conversation. I skipped the NFL topic entirely, and instead blurted out, “watching Sean Hannity doesn’t make you a good conservative,” and wanted to keep going toward some kind of a punchline, but my wife, not knowing my strategy, interrupted. “Is he the Fox News guy who sexually harassed all those people?” Which was actually kind of perfect, because I said, “no, Bill O’Reilly is the serial sexual harasser, Sean Hannity is the one who makes shit up and then when people point out he’s wrong says he’s only an entertainer not a journalist.”

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The husband of the Secret Santa Wishlist Arranger, who is a hippie like me and had been sitting silently next to That One Motherfucker At Your Thanksgiving Who Talks About Politics, started grinning from ear to ear as I said this.

I threw a couple other random insults about watching Fox News only means you make questionable life choices, and if you bought a Keurig you like shitty coffee, and then the political conversation blissfully ended with a segue into the many different reasons Keurig machines make shitty coffee.

I can only assume That One Motherfucker At Your Thanksgiving Who Talks About Politics mistakenly thought everyone would agree with him when he started talking about politics. He just needed someone to get a little indignant with him so he would shut up.

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So remember folks, don’t be That One Motherfucker At Your Thanksgiving Who Talks About Politics. And if you found yourself agreeing with the particular That One Motherfucker At Your Thanksgiving Who Talks About Politics at my Thanksgiving, you know what I have to say to you.