Things I'm not thankful for.

Why the hell is this even a thing?

Welcome, friends, to my annual Things I'm Not Thankful For post. Hard to believe it's been a year since the last one, isn't it? Well, this is the first one, so there's your explanation.

Time for a new Thanksgiving tradition for me, though. Yes, turkey is nice, football is awesome, family, blah blah blah. Everyone wants to talk about what they're thankful for. Not me, though. I'll leave that to you pumpkin pie-stuffed people. Gorge on your food, pass out on the recliner, ignore your obnoxious kids (I know I am), and let me tell you what I'm not thankful for: 2015 edition.

ITEM NUMBER 1

No, I'm not inspired.

Your annoying Facebook posts. Yes, that's right.

Consider this not just a Thanksgiving item, but a year-round, running item. Every holiday, election year, terrorist attack, celebrity scandal, whatever, fills my news feed with obnoxious, pointless, vacuous garbage. Being a retired military guy, I also have the bonus of a pantload of overly-conservative, paranoid, idiotic posts that just don't matter. OH NO, THE GAYS ARE COMIN'! THAT MUSLIM OBAMA'S GONNA TAKE MY GUNS! THEM BASTARD DEMOCRATS ARE GONNA TAKE ONE-HALF OF ONE PERCENT OF MY COST OF LIVING ALLOWANCE! LIBTARDS HURR-DURRRRRRR.

You get the idea. Let's go over this one more time: Nobody's going to take your fucking guns, Cletus. Your interpretation of God's sentiments are stupid and ill-thought out - do you really think a supreme being would care if two people with a penis fall in love and want to join the miserable world of marriage like the rest of us poor chumps? No. And remember: it just doesn't matter who you vote for or who the next president is. NOTHING WILL CHANGE. Not to put too fine a point on it, but remember: NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOUR POLITICAL OPINIONS.

By the way, I've been deployed on a couple of Thanksgivings and Christmases in my day, and not once have I seen a table full of troops hugging, or holding their hands together for a prayer/Facebook photo opportunity. Maybe it was on the other side of the dining facility, and I wasn't invited because I'm a grouchy bastard. You know why I was grouchy? Because I had to wait in line at the chow hall for at least an hour on Thanksgiving to load my tray up with delicious food that's WAY better than what I would have gotten at home.

Who's forgetting them?

But, I digress.

ITEM NUMBER 2

Terrorists.

This little girl sums it up rather nicely.

Seriously, you guys are assholes. Enough with the blowing people up already, you know? We get it; you hate the things that make the western world great: exposed female knees and McRib sandwiches and Snuggies and bacon and and the good, Christian values that allow you to get married and divorced ten times as long as it's to someone of the opposite sex, and the inalienable right to choke yourself with a belt while you masturbate (RIP, Michael Hutchence). We get that you hate all that stuff, but can't you just write strongly worded letters instead of killing a bunch of people just trying to live their lives?

ISIS, Al Qaeda, Boko Haram, and everybody else who enjoys a stylish vest lined with explosives: just STAAAAAHHHHHP already. You kill people, you sadden and annoy the world, you create sensationalized media, you make it a giant ordeal to get through airport security, you are inconveniently scattered around the world, making it impossible to just nuke the shit out of you, you make me have to sign my name just to buy a goddamned box of Sudafed (wait, that's meth heads, not terrorists, sorry).

You want to blow yourself up for Allah or whatever? Cool, man, do it up. Just do it in an isolated patch of desert where nobody else is around. Try that place I pooped in the sand, just south of an Najef, Iraq. It seemed like a peaceful enough place to poop, reflect on life, blow your dumb ass up, whatever.

To all the terrorists who read my posts: please just stop killing other people, for Christ's sake. Deal? Awesome, thanks.

There has to be a better outlet for your angst, y'know?

ITEM NUMBER 3

You jackasses on bicycles.

All your roads are belong to us.

Oh my god, you're terrible. Not quite as bad as terrorists, but holy hell, you're not that far off. You go out  and spend money on amazing performance bicycles, you buy the ridiculous skin-tight outfits and those weird shoes with a brick on the bottom, then you prep for your ride with a huge self-entitlement shake.

How many times have you been stuck behind some overweight jackass on the verge of a heart attack while he tries to pedal up a hill, about three feet into your lane so you can't pass? If I had a dollar for every time that happened to me, I'd be doing something way cooler than writing for you people, like driving a solid gold Vespa scooter.

And you're just fucking stuck. You can't pass, you can't honk at the guy - god forbid he's asked to make any kind of adjustment that isn't in line with his I'M A CYCLIST! mentality.  We get it, jerkass: in your head, you're Lance Armstrong, but in reality, you're just an aggravation to the entire world.

Try passing one sometime, coming within a three-foot radius of their space. You'll never see a more indignant, fist-waving human being EVER. How dare you almost come within three feet of giving him a side-mirror check? SHARE THE ROAD. CYCLISTS HAVE THE SAME RIGHTS AS YOU LAZY CAR PEOPLE!

Yeah, that would be great, buddy, if you actually followed the rules of the road. I see it every damn day. You blow through stop signs, you roll on up between rows of stopped cars, you yield to absolutely no one. You absolutely don't follow the rules of the road, but your head almost explodes when I pass you. Screw you and your dopey little outfit.

Enjoy the feeling of my side mirror on your elbow, asshat.

In summary, anyone who refers to themselves as "cyclists" and owns the ridiculous Speedo gear should be sent out of the country. Maybe the Northwest Territory of Canada? Not a lot of traffic up there. Go start your own country of pretentious, self-entitled douches on two wheels.

In the meantime, realize that you are about as important as the dorks riding around on Segways.

The answer is right under your feet, jackwagon.

ITEM NUMBER 3

Black Friday.

Buncha greedy jackasses, all of you. Every year, not only does this ridiculous debacle start earlier and earlier, but it's just stupid. KIDS WAKE UP WE HAVE TO GET TO WALMART AT 3 AM FOR A HUNDRED DOLLAR TV!

Seriously, Roman gladiator fights were less violent and better organized than black Friday sales. Waiting in line for hours while some poor 60-year old war veteran security guard counts down the minutes until he has to move the sad little rope separating him from pure, unadulterated frenzy at Target/Walmart/Best Buy/Toys r Us.

And for what? 10% off some Faded Glory jorts? $20 off that kitchen ninja? Half off the hottest new stupid doll the media has told you your kid just has to have? Is it really worth it? Stay home and enjoy your family, for Christ's sake. Stop following the crowd. Crowds of people are just plain stupid as a rule, and when there's four hundred people waiting to buy ten Quasar VCRs, it's not just stupid, but it's violent.

People lined up at Sears. Wait, what? Sears is still a thing?

Anyway, stop doing it. It's not worth it.

There are plenty of other things I'm not thankful for, but this is it for now. I've got more important things to do than explain to you why most of the things you do are just wrong.

Now, stop reading the stupid internet and go back to arguing with your family and watching terrible football games and gorging yourself on food. You'll be really happy you did, no doubt. 'Tis the season and all.

Bring on dessert!

Until next time, remember:

and:

Life is beautiful, isn't it?