Our formative years will always speak to us.

Gangs of Vigilante Drag Queens Vow to Make the Streets Fabulous

"Well, Tim, I suppose that's your right to feel ashamed of yourself. It is not OK for you to decide that because you feel ashamed that everyone else has to feel it, too. Most of the class is thinking about what they are grateful for which isn't a terrible thing to do for one day a year."

But Thanksgiving morning—oof. That’s the best. Since I was in third grade, every Thanksgiving morning, my childhood friends and I play seven-on-seven football. It’s the best. We freeze our nuts off at Willow Stream Park and all pretend we’re the next Tom Brady. You know, the Jewish one. Some of us don’t give a shit about the game and smoke doobies on the sideline, while others get overly competitive and call plays like the Annexation of Puerto Rico. We come home with chapped lips, bruised elbows, muddy clothes, and churning stomachs. Turkey Bowl is the most fun I have every November. Not because of the game itself, though, but because I get to see friends who’ve moved to San Francisco, San Diego, New York, Seattle, and even Beijing. Our annual game is my real Thanksgiving celebration—and I’m thankful for it.

...that, in the spirit of appropriate trigger warnings, can we have some that warn us that a comedy show will be more like a lecture on how awful white guys are? 

It’s funny, the things I care about now since becoming a father. It’s not the environment or my finances or my health — not any more than I did before Harrison arrived. It’s diaper changing stations in public restrooms. I see one of those in a men’s room and I am overwhelmed with joy. #FathersRights 

Oh, shit. I think I used that Fathers’ Rights hashtag incorrectly.

I sure would like to take December off and write about some stupid fucking British television show I absolutely love for a change.

For Thanksgiving in 2012, I was single and Mom decided that I should come out to my step-sister's place in Branson, Missouri for a good old-fashioned country Thanksgiving. The carrot was family. The stick was Missouri.

Squanto - White grubs have crawled into it. William - Those are marshmallows.

…that in the spirit of the Golden Rule, if you have decided it’s appropriate to harass people on the street or in front of their homes to make a political point, you deserve exactly the same treatment when taking your kids out to Chuck E. Cheese.