oh look another article hurray
We continue our look at the hidden truth behind some of our nation's holidays with this revealing look at:
I know it's a little early for this, and I know I skipped a couple of holidays (or several if you count thing like "Bean Sprout Appreciation Day"), but sometimes, a story is so exciting, so cutting edge, that it stands to shake the foundations of the world as we know it. This, however, is not one of them. Why am I writing about Thanksgiving in the middle of July? Because I can. When all the other people are writing their little articles about turkeys and pilgrims in November, you know what I'll be writing about? I'm not sure either, but it definitely won't be turkeys and pilgrims. Maybe I'll get that Bean Sprout article out of the way.
Anyways, where do we begin? I can hear you standing on your desk, screaming at me, "OH I KNOOOOOW THIS THE MAYFLOWERRRRR 1620 OOOOHHHH PLYMOUTH ROCK GRAAAGH." That last sound, of course, was me throwing a brick at you, because you are WRONG. That's right, everything you were taught in school regarding Thanksgiving was a LIE. Well, ok, not all of it, but a few details were left out so that everyone could get to the more exciting stuff, like the Civil War, World War II, and Bean Sprout Day (where we celebrate our forefathers ability to grow food that no one likes! hurray). For starters, the Pilgrims landed not at Plymouth Rock, but at a little known rock a few miles south of Plymouth known only as "Wankashickleekaroo," which in the native tongue meant "Vacancy." Turns out Plymouth Rock was full, as it was being used by the indigenous people as a sort of parking garage for their canoes. Anyways, the pilgrims landed, and set their feet on the new ground. They then threw up, because it had been a long trip on a boat filled with their own excrement and god knows what else. Anyways, Native Americans (who will henceforth be known simply as "Bobs" because I cannot be bothered to write Native Americans all the time, Political correctness be damned), welcomed the strange new visitors as only they knew how: They threw rocks and told the crackers to get the hell out their hood. No, wait, that's what happened to the Pilgrims at Harlem Rock. My bad.
The Pilgrims and Bobs quickly formed a mutually beneficial friendship, the Bobs teaching the naive Pilgrims how to survive in the harsh new world, the Pilgrims teaching their new friends the wonders of smallpox. It was a 70/30 relationship to be sure.
The first winter was a cruel one. Many of the settlers were caught completely unaware. Seriously, one second they were frolicking in the field, dancing with the Bobs, then BOOM, pilgrimsicles (which, if you think about it, would be a really bland flavor, and would probably burn you at the stake when you opened the box). However, with the help of the Bobs, and some of the can't die attitude that makes America what it is today (the cockroach of the world...no, wait) the first colony survived.
Finally, spring came, and the pilgrims and the Bobs rejoiced. After thawing out their fellow pilgrims, they decided that a feast would be held to celebrate the end of the long winter, to remember those who died, and give thanks for those who lived.
This touching moment lasted all of fifteen seconds, however. As soon as word got out about the end of winter bash, the younger, rowdier pilgrims, (characterized by their top hats with no brim and their shoes with no buckles, or sometimes really large buckles. Some even went so far as to put a really large buckle on their hats and a brim on their shoes, but these trouble makers were few and far between) ruined the festivities with a horrible prank. First, they got really drunk on some Maize Lite 1620, then they caught a turkey (they settled for a dead one they found behind Old Man Jenkin's barn, since they couldn't catch a live one in their inebriated state), next, they defeathered the poor beast, cooked it at 450 for several hours, and then....you won't believe this...SERVED IT TO THE WAITING PILGRIMS AND BOBS. Shocking, I know.
The hysteria caused by this was unfathomable. A massive fight broke out, Bobs and Pilgrims alike joining in. Many were wounded, even a few were killed. Sadly, one of the more unfortunate casualties was the centerpiece of the event, the Bean Sprout Puree. The drunken brawl lasted well into the night (which is a tradition that hasn't changed much to this day).
After the fiasco of the first Thanksgiving, the Pilgrims decided to cover it up, hoping to save face with future generations. Yes, the first government conspiracy! (BUTNOTTHELASTAMIRITEOMGALIENSINTHEDESERT). With the help of the Bobs, they recorded a new, fabricated version, keeping the turkey as a reminder of the foolishness (and because everyone secretly hated the Bean Sprout Puree). Full of peace and prosperity, this new version signaled the beginning of a tradition that would last to this day, when our families would get together in the late autumn month, gather around the table, and then argue over Uncle Al's recent marriage to a goat while the kids throw mashed potatoes at each other and rub stuffing in Grandma's hair. Thanks!
So ends our study of the truth of Thanksgiving! Join me next week when I'll tell you the truth behind the landing on the moon (hint: lots of cheese and some silly putty). Oh, and aren't you glad I didn't end with another bean sprout gag?
I know it's a little early for this, and I know I skipped a couple of holidays (or several if you count thing like "Bean Sprout Appreciation Day"), but sometimes, a story is so exciting, so cutting edge, that it stands to shake the foundations of the world as we know it. This, however, is not one of them. Why am I writing about Thanksgiving in the middle of July? Because I can. When all the other people are writing their little articles about turkeys and pilgrims in November, you know what I'll be writing about? I'm not sure either, but it definitely won't be turkeys and pilgrims. Maybe I'll get that Bean Sprout article out of the way.
Anyways, where do we begin? I can hear you standing on your desk, screaming at me, "OH I KNOOOOOW THIS THE MAYFLOWERRRRR 1620 OOOOHHHH PLYMOUTH ROCK GRAAAGH." That last sound, of course, was me throwing a brick at you, because you are WRONG. That's right, everything you were taught in school regarding Thanksgiving was a LIE. Well, ok, not all of it, but a few details were left out so that everyone could get to the more exciting stuff, like the Civil War, World War II, and Bean Sprout Day (where we celebrate our forefathers ability to grow food that no one likes! hurray). For starters, the Pilgrims landed not at Plymouth Rock, but at a little known rock a few miles south of Plymouth known only as "Wankashickleekaroo," which in the native tongue meant "Vacancy." Turns out Plymouth Rock was full, as it was being used by the indigenous people as a sort of parking garage for their canoes. Anyways, the pilgrims landed, and set their feet on the new ground. They then threw up, because it had been a long trip on a boat filled with their own excrement and god knows what else. Anyways, Native Americans (who will henceforth be known simply as "Bobs" because I cannot be bothered to write Native Americans all the time, Political correctness be damned), welcomed the strange new visitors as only they knew how: They threw rocks and told the crackers to get the hell out their hood. No, wait, that's what happened to the Pilgrims at Harlem Rock. My bad.
The Pilgrims and Bobs quickly formed a mutually beneficial friendship, the Bobs teaching the naive Pilgrims how to survive in the harsh new world, the Pilgrims teaching their new friends the wonders of smallpox. It was a 70/30 relationship to be sure.
The first winter was a cruel one. Many of the settlers were caught completely unaware. Seriously, one second they were frolicking in the field, dancing with the Bobs, then BOOM, pilgrimsicles (which, if you think about it, would be a really bland flavor, and would probably burn you at the stake when you opened the box). However, with the help of the Bobs, and some of the can't die attitude that makes America what it is today (the cockroach of the world...no, wait) the first colony survived.
Finally, spring came, and the pilgrims and the Bobs rejoiced. After thawing out their fellow pilgrims, they decided that a feast would be held to celebrate the end of the long winter, to remember those who died, and give thanks for those who lived.
This touching moment lasted all of fifteen seconds, however. As soon as word got out about the end of winter bash, the younger, rowdier pilgrims, (characterized by their top hats with no brim and their shoes with no buckles, or sometimes really large buckles. Some even went so far as to put a really large buckle on their hats and a brim on their shoes, but these trouble makers were few and far between) ruined the festivities with a horrible prank. First, they got really drunk on some Maize Lite 1620, then they caught a turkey (they settled for a dead one they found behind Old Man Jenkin's barn, since they couldn't catch a live one in their inebriated state), next, they defeathered the poor beast, cooked it at 450 for several hours, and then....you won't believe this...SERVED IT TO THE WAITING PILGRIMS AND BOBS. Shocking, I know.
The hysteria caused by this was unfathomable. A massive fight broke out, Bobs and Pilgrims alike joining in. Many were wounded, even a few were killed. Sadly, one of the more unfortunate casualties was the centerpiece of the event, the Bean Sprout Puree. The drunken brawl lasted well into the night (which is a tradition that hasn't changed much to this day).
After the fiasco of the first Thanksgiving, the Pilgrims decided to cover it up, hoping to save face with future generations. Yes, the first government conspiracy! (BUTNOTTHELASTAMIRITEOMGALIENSINTHEDESERT). With the help of the Bobs, they recorded a new, fabricated version, keeping the turkey as a reminder of the foolishness (and because everyone secretly hated the Bean Sprout Puree). Full of peace and prosperity, this new version signaled the beginning of a tradition that would last to this day, when our families would get together in the late autumn month, gather around the table, and then argue over Uncle Al's recent marriage to a goat while the kids throw mashed potatoes at each other and rub stuffing in Grandma's hair. Thanks!
So ends our study of the truth of Thanksgiving! Join me next week when I'll tell you the truth behind the landing on the moon (hint: lots of cheese and some silly putty). Oh, and aren't you glad I didn't end with another bean sprout gag?