The Manure Spreader By Judge me if you must. Would you leave your crop half-harvested? Would you leave your field half-mowed? Would you only milk half your cows? No, people. I was not going to leave a pie half-eaten.
I was in Canada for Thanksgiving last year. I went to Canada in October to perform a show, but apparently that’s when they get 18 feet of snow, and I couldn’t make it home until after Thanksgiving.
I know this may have been an exaggeration. It was actually closer to 22 feet of snow. Where we celebrate Thanksgiving, Canada just celebrates the sun coming up the next morning.
Of course, we all know that we celebrate Thanksgiving the fourth Thursday of November. Now, I don’t know how we know the pilgrims landed on the fourth Thursday of the month at Plymouth Rock, but if it says it on Wikipedia, it must be true.
I celebrated Thanksgiving last year like I did my prom in high school: alone. You might think it was difficult to celebrate Thanksgiving alone, but I have one word for you – Swanson Hungry Man.
Done in 20 minutes. I know I splurged by using the oven instead of the microwave, but I felt I deserved it. Did you know when you’re alone no one is there to stop you from having thirds on stuffing? And you can eat the cranberry sauce without turkey.
I knew I was having withdrawals when I looked in the mirror and insulted myself. Amazingly, the conversational topics were bearable. I know what you’re asking yourselves – and yes, I did watch the Macy’s Day Parade.
It’s odd that it took me being completely alone to appreciate a parade. The costumes were spectacular. The young children playing their instruments and marching in unison was unbelievable. The craftsmanship that went into making the floats, the décor … it was at this point I knew it was time to stop drinking the gravy.
Flipping the channels and finding my testosterone, it was three beers into the second football game when I mysteriously lost my cellphone and, without anyone to stop me, my nap ran right into my sleep.
After a lot of inner inspection, I thought to myself, “You know, I’m missing this holiday with family.” I started to feel bad. “Family is important, and it is the fabric that built this country. It is the fabric that made me who I am today.” And I continued with that thought until I realized – the whole pie was mine.
Let me repeat that one more time: The entire pie was mine! Do you know what it’s like to eat an entire pie and not need a knife? Just me, the pie, whipped cream and a fork.
Judge me if you must. Would you leave your crop half-harvested? Would you leave your field half-mowed? Would you only milk half your cows? No, people. I was not going to leave a pie half-eaten.
Listen, we are friends now, we’ve known each other for a while – and I feel comfortable in telling you I started eating the pie from the middle and worked my way out to the edges.
Not to worry; I arrived home on Sunday, so the best part of Thanksgiving was still on the table: leftovers. Ironically, no pie. 
HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYBODY!
