November 23, 2016

How to Talk to Your Pansy Ass Marxist Nephew at Thanksgiving by Uncle Strickland


Happy Thanksgiving. I’m a big fan of this holiday because few things are more American than boozing up and chowing down ’til your ankles swell and your corduroys pop. In between, you get to watch some football and share your thoughts on the trainwreck presidency of Barack Hussein Obama (hint hint).

I consider myself a knowledgable debater because I read up on the blogs and I’m typically one of the most “liked” commenters on the articles. The reason I’m writing this is because my brother’s dumb kid likes to get chatty with me. I’ve never seen anyone bring so many printouts to the dinner table. His “talking points,” he says.

Reminds me of my last divorce, all those friggin’ printouts. This kid, my nephew, will never admit to being a communist, it’s always this “moderate independent” crap. But his Facebook feed is full of Bernie Sandinista, if you know what I mean, and he recently tweeted some gibberish about riding the bus in Czechoslovakia and identifying as a “human being” instead of what he is, an American.

He’s been a “student” at some Ivy League circlejerk for the better part of a decade. I think he’s 29, who the hell even cares? If he’s the future, this country’s digging its own grave and I’m glad I won’t be there when it finally kicks the bucket.

When I was his age, I was flying Ranger battalions into Grenada in ’83. I spent Thanksgiving there, and believe me, we didn’t have any damn printouts. We had a war, son. A lot of my buddies have similar situations in their families, and they’re always asking me for advice on how to put up with this left-wing propaganda.

Well, I’ll give you a taste. He’s gonna be all like “you’re just giving ISIS what they want.” I’ll come back at him with something like:

“You know, you raise an interesting point there, Brayden. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you invite one of your ISIS pals around the house and we’ll see how much he likes it when I slash his guts out with the turkey knife. You think that’s what he wants? They want us to crush them?

"Tell me something, how did you feel when your Little League team got mercy-ruled by those country boys in the district finals? Is that what you wanted? Were you just phoning it in for the “participant” trophy? Is that why you’re too afraid to shave that pathetic beard? Because that’s what ISIS wants?

"Am I bothering you right now? Did I carpet bomb your safe space? Maybe, just maybe, what ISIS really wants is a world with fewer people like me, who’ve looked evil in the eye and given a few titty-twisters in our day, and more people like the skinny jean cycle jockeys you pal around with at Yale, with your ska music and your websites and “fantasy” sports.

"Maybe what ISIS wants is your dental floss forearms that can barely hold a selfie stick, much less a BAR. Do those Vox cards have a talking point for that?

"Oh, really? Because I was under the impression that in A-m-e-r-i-c-a, the proper way to usher in the holiday season is with a stiff Rusty Nail, not a “dialogue” about small pox and genocide, unless you want to share your feelings about the mass murder ISIS wants to bring down on your ass? Is that a topic we can let marinate?

"I bet you had to print out the lyrics to our national anthem when you went to sing it in the quad the night we elected President Hopey Change.

"No, you listen. You listen, Brayden.

"When’s the last time you got a blister on those hands? Don’t mention the time you tried eating the vegan hotdog at the WNBA game you made me take you to out of “fairness.” You didn’t even watch the game. You just tweeted about sexism on your iPad. You know, that little computer screen made by Apple, which last I checked was a corporation, Mr. Occupy. Don’t deny it, I was watching you.

"You only looked up when Taylor Swift came over the PA system. How do you think that made Brittney Griner feel?

"Remind me: What’s the name of the union for people who Twitter all day from an air conditioned office? Because I don’t think “amateur food photographer” counts as a real job.”

I plan to say this to the little pansy in a firm but slightly mocking tone as I pour another bourbon while eating processed turkey and holding a lit cigarette.

GUEST COLUMN: How to Talk to Your Pansy Marxist Nephew at Thanksgiving - Washington Free Beacon HT: The dependably interesting Never Yet Melted

Then there's always....

Posted by gerardvanderleun at November 23, 2016 5:43 AM
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"It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood." -- Karl Popper N.B.: Comments are moderated and may not appear immediately. Comments that exceed the obscenity or stupidity limits will be either edited or expunged.

Self Flagellation.

Doesn't everyone already knew there is no sense in speaking logic to a person that is genetically flawed as his nephew seems to be?

The best you can do is stay back out of the way and let the future give him what he yearns for.

Posted by: ghostsniper at November 25, 2015 1:32 PM

He pulls out a talking point, you pull a sneer. He waves printouts, you twirl a bar of soap in a sock. Because the first rule of Thanksgiving is "Not at the table".

Posted by: SteveS at November 25, 2015 2:34 PM

A winning tactic for us female rednecks is to agree and sympathize and lead them further down the rabbit hole until their eyes glaze over. Make it offensively clear that they are being "matronized." Because I agree, logic is wasted on the safe space crowd. And if you lack muscle mass, testosterone levels, or military experience, treacly concern is a good substitute. If you have the $ to waste, bring along cheesy-looking "vegan" frozen entrees as bait. For male enlightened ones, a fuzzy onesie in a girlie color is an appropriate gift. I did this last year to a "gender-questing" date someone brought. They left early and there was more rum pecan pie for the rest of us.

Posted by: raincityjazz at November 25, 2015 2:44 PM

"I was flying Ranger battalions into Grenada in ’83. I spent Thanksgiving there, and believe me, we didn’t have any damn printouts. We had a war, son:

What sort of pansy thinks that Reagan's Grenada diversion- A Marx Brothers farce at best, was a war?

It was a diversion from the Iran-Contra crimes.

Posted by: Bill Jones at November 25, 2015 2:55 PM

Thanks for keeping us on track even in the humor items.

Posted by: Van der Leun at November 25, 2015 3:25 PM

The turkey on the table acts best. It had no choice.
The turkeys round the table act worst. They had choices and chose the sad and bad.
The lesson offered: get fed-up with yourself. Thanksgiving is beyond your ken.

Posted by: Howard Nelson at November 25, 2015 3:53 PM

Hey Bill: I hit Grenada a glancing blow on the way to Beirut, and later ended up in Kuwait City. In each case, the little inside joke was "Well, it's not much of a war, but it's the only war we've got."

I also dabbled in Nicaragua. Anything we did to hobble the Sandanistas is good in my book. Those talking-point print-outs are made from the pulp of beams found in eyes.

Posted by: Darkwater at November 26, 2015 2:20 AM

...did I carpet bomb your safe space? Mercy. Good stuff.

Posted by: Snakepit Kansas at November 26, 2015 4:52 AM

Bill Jones - I was already retired when Grenada came along. But, I took 130s into and out of quite a few no-name hot spots in the '50s-'60s rescuing American civilians, and it was no cakewalk. They were places that didn't even make the papers or evening news, but when you're getting shot at on approach and takeoff, it's a war as far as you're concerned.

Posted by: BillH at November 26, 2015 6:58 AM

The father showed an incredible level of self-restraint. The 'kid' is a mental case. A selfishness that is too 'normal' in our society today.

Posted by: AbigailAdams at November 23, 2016 12:33 PM

A very good re-read Gerard, kind of like Fields of Fire by James Webb. I have to pick that up again every couple years....

Posted by: Snakepit Kansas at November 23, 2016 4:38 PM


Otherwise, the father would have punched the kid in the face and thrown him upstairs.

Posted by: Lance de Boyle at November 23, 2016 9:54 PM

The long and slow corruption of our spirits by the truth-less public education of our children and the absence of spiritual values.

This is exactly what has gone wrong with what used to be a Christian America. Unfortunately, we must look forward to much more of the same in our futures, - only worse.

Darwin be praised.

Posted by: Denny at November 24, 2016 6:32 AM

Darwin will make mincemeat out of turdbots like these.

Posted by: Jared A Ford at November 24, 2016 9:01 AM

The video is acted. But a great job on the scene.

Posted by: Nobody Atall at November 24, 2016 11:11 AM

The video is acted. No one I know gives the thanks after the plates are filled. However this same scenario is acted out, including real violence, in thousands of homes all over our country, every single day.

Posted by: Denny at November 24, 2016 2:30 PM

Talking about Pansy-asses
"When I was his age, I was flying Ranger battalions into Grenada in ’83."

Ah yes, against the formidable Granadan army, both of them.

What a wuss.

Posted by: Bill Jones at November 24, 2016 4:16 PM

They were plenty formidable when they start throwing granades.

Posted by: Col. B. Bunny at November 26, 2016 8:15 PM