As one so divine, you must realize that, comparatively, the turkey has no flavor.

This Thanksgiving season, I’m grateful for the things we take for granted. 

I’m thankful for my grandfather for warning my father and his brothers that earrings were for si$$ies.  My grandfather, rest his soul, would not believe his eyes today if he saw big gold genie hoops in a man’s ears who wasn’t a pirate.  But diamonds as big as checkerboards in both ears would probably kill him if he were not already dead.

I’m grateful and thankful for manners.  The crackhead generation and their children don’t have manners.  Won’t make eye contact with adults or authority figures.  Will curse freely and without shame in the presence of adults (because they do not recognize authority unless it’s wearing a blue uniform and a badge).  Can’t form the words “thank you.”  Will not open a door for you.  Will actually walk slower (in an act of moronic insolence) if you hold a door open for them.  Will stand in the street when you’re driving a 2-ton car that could squish them (even if you blow the horn, like statues they will stare you down, but will not move), et cetera, et cetera.

I’m thankful that I was a teenager when boys lovingly and politely referred to their girlfriends as girlfriends or by name and not “My number one bitch.”  Say what now?  Yes, you heard right.  I was coming out of the gas station the other day.  Four teenagers, all under five-foot-seven, were standing in a circle near the door talking.  Do you know that when that young boy said, “This is my number one bitch,” in the presence of his “number one bitch” all she did was smirk and nod . . . proudly?  I was utterly taken ablack.  So saddened for this young girl, by the lack of self-esteem.  Honestly, I was struck speechless.  (By the way, do you know what your daughter allows her boyfriend to call her?  I would look into that.  Imagine if she’s his number two or three!)

Speaking of self-esteem . . . I’m thankful that my self-esteem is not tied up in the name of my handbag, the color of the bottom of my shoe, the emblem on my car, or whether I have a boyfriend or husband.

I’m thankful for my mother for introducing me to a strange and terrible god who makes the wise seem foolish and the foolish seem wise and whose thoughts, frustratingly, are not our thoughts.  Q: What kind of god would allow your child to die and let his organs give life to four other people when you prayed for healing?  A: The same kind of god who would sacrifice his own son—his body and blood—for the eternal salvation and healing of a nation of heathens.  He won’t do unto you what he has not first done unto himself.  And he will never require of you what he does not require of himself.

Have a happy and safe Thanksgiving, everyone.  Those of us who have God and a good family that covers their mouths when they burp are very blessed!

Now click on the comment link below and tell the world what you’re thankful for…