It’s that time of year again when we’re forced into the company of relationships that give us fear and sores with every passive-aggressive verbal jab — only this year, people are passing on the passive as America has descended into all-out civil war.
With geopolitics and national politics smoldering like a dumpster fire, it could happen this Thanksgiving are even more fraught? As the late Chandler Bing may have wondered.
Back in the day, you had to brace your spine for a little Turkey Day defense against Aunt Marlene’s continued dissection of your love life, or wince and sigh at Grandpa’s mild racism during the football game.
Now it’s a whole new cauldron of boiling fish guts – with reluctant partygoers left to guess whether their blue-haired nephew is a flag-waving anti-Israel loudmouth ready to rid the family of oppressors in the name of ‘freedom’.
Can someone pass the gravy from the river to the sea?
With geopolitics and national politics smoldering like a dumpster fire, could this Thanksgiving be any more fraught? As the late Chandler Bing may have wondered.
Not so long ago, you kindly informed your host if you had a nut allergy; this year, you might want to withhold that nutritional nugget from your Gen-Z Columbia cousin, who might just put pistachios in the filling so you can finally learn what Real feels suffering.
And watch out for Gladys, your second mother’s neighbor, who has a MAGA sticker on her bumper. ‘Don is our president! Stop stealing!!’ she cries as the second shot of rosé hits. Someone please lock it her upwards?
Between the re-emergence of Trump and the war in the Middle East, people have lost all sense of themselves and all civility and will do anything to inform you of their truth.
Like an undercooked turkey, political entrenchments have infiltrated our lives more deeply than ever before, with even family gatherings – once mildly uncomfortable obligations – teetering on the brink of total catastrophe.
So what can be done to reverse the damage before it starts? Follow my six-point plan for surviving holiday hostilities:
What can be done to undo the damage before it starts? Follow Kennedy’s Six-Point Plan to Survive Holiday Hostilities…
#1 Before the dinner, everyone must sign a waiver promising: A) Not to bring up Gaza, climate change, immigration, abortion, Bidenomics, or Meghan Markle. B) Then have the fine print state that whoever violates these terms must pay all other attendees $100 each per violation. And finally, C) Calmly provoke others into talking about their most explosive pet problem by asking around slyly about the subject so that they go bankrupt while you clean up.
#2 If rule 1 fails, make up a drinking game with your few fellow Turkey Day rationalists. Every time someone brings up Biden’s age, drink in the homophobia of Mike Johnson or Trump (including but not limited to his orange hue, Trump Derangement Syndrome, how Melania is actually a stunt double, or January 6). Sit back and feel the sweet release from consciousness as you fall into a stupor and the bickering is drowned out by the more pleasant sound of your own dry heaves.
#3 Musical Warfare: Pack a portable speaker or your least favorite CDs and put the blasting tunes to work drowning out the droners. I’m talking about the ear-splitting Christina Aguilera. Oh well, it’s not that long until Christmas, hit the Mariah Carey. Alexa, bang Nickelback! After the fourth spin of ‘Something In Your Mouth’, your tired relatives might get the message.
#4 When in doubt, hug it. Nothing says, ‘I love you, stop talking now!’ like an awkward hug. If they start to make a fuss, just throw up those loving arms and quell the hostilities. The power of touch can be so… soothing.
#5 Speaking of – maybe this is the year you take up creepy Uncle Rick’s offer to race around the yard in the buff. “Lose those tight whites,” he sings! Nothing paralyzes a person who enjoys arguing and is unpleasant as silently as the sight of Grandma bolting away!
#6 There is no shame in the AWOL game. As a last resort, you can check in at the resort. Bankrupt yourself by booking that two-star Airbnb in Guam and spend the rest of your savings on a shriveled bouquet from flowers.com, complete with “wish you were here” note. Forget the FOMO, they’ll all be fighting too much to notice you’re gone.
If you brave the madness, you know what to expect, and now you have a few arrows in your quiver to navigate the undergrowth of family demolition.
Follow my steps to emerge victorious – and if all else fails, meet me at the bar. I have your ‘I Survived Thanksgiving’ t-shirt ready.