Or at least the person who set the table hates you.
Serious attempts to avoid profanity after the fold.
Lots of people ask, At what point does the obligation of being a good guest end? How much of your host’s nonsense do you have to endure without protest? – Well, here you go. This is the freaking Rubicon. This is worth making a scene over. The ultimate refuge from Stupid Thanksgiving Fights is staring at your plate and focusing on all those foods you only eat once a year and your Aunt Mabel’s pie. If you can’t even be permitted to have that in peace – if there’s a stinking gun-grabber ad shoved under your blipping plate – then there’s no reason not to have the fight, right? I mean, you’re already in a gutter war: you might as well break out the rhetorical tacnukes.
God save us from Mike Bloomberg. I’m starting to look forward to that Commie sykes replacing him; fumble-schmuck moron or not, at least DeBlasio will stick to just grinding up NYC to powder and dung, and leaving the rest us alone.