The Pilgrims, who arrived on the fair shores commonly known as the Unilateral States in 1620, were primarily a group of Christians, called the Separatists™. After becoming fed up with the day in, day out persecution by the Church-State system in Jolly Ole England, the Separatists™ came up with the newfangled idea that maybe, just maybe, the words “church and state” shouldn’t keep coming up in the same sentence over and over again. Maybe.
One group of the Separatists™ ditched the motherland for the Netherlands, but they quickly became alienated when they realized that marijuana hadn’t been legalized there yet as was originally believed. When they much later learned that the legalization of hemp was some 300 plus years away on the legislative docket, they decided to give up on Holland for good. The wooden shoes were enough to sway them as they seemed they’d be yet another living nightmare of persecution. And now in these modern times, the Dutch are considering restricting all the hemp-smoking fun to their own residents and Americans will have to live vicariously through old Harold and Kumar movies. Sucks to be us.
And so it was on a sunny morn that around 120 eager passengers boarded the ships the Speedwell and the chartered vessel the Mayflower. The Speedwell unfortunately had to return to England not once, but twice due to dangerous, safety-compromising leaks by the crew. They were not leaks of the Wiki-variety, as Julian Assange was not to be born until centuries later. And as they had no Wikipedia back then, we cannot even trace the leaks to his ancestors. The Mayflower, showing true ignorance of navigation, entirely missed the sought after destination hot spots of the Cape, Provincetown and the Vineyard. They later landed on ye old boring Plymouth Rock to “occupy it” instead, which worked out pretty well really, as the Separatists™ were a boatload of sad-sack sourballs themselves, who would never be interested in drinking icy bottles of Samuel Adams lager while poaching lobsters from a yokel’s pot under a harvest moon. In fact, Samuel Adams also hadn’t even been born yet. Don’t tell Michele Bachmann.
The first Thanksgiving was three whole days of prayer and feasting as celebrated by the Pilgrim colonist/occupiers in Plymouth. The Indian that helped the Pilgrims prepare to invent a holiday to launch off a season of crass-commercialism annually was named Squanto, also called Tisquantum, also called Noscalpum, and also called Menowannasmallpoxum. Thanksgiving Day is now a yearly holiday celebrated in the Unilateral Sates on the fourth Thursday of November, but lasting only one day instead of three. Unlike the colonists, we have to work for a living so we can afford to go Christmas shopping. We even have to create our own jobs. Hey, maybe we do have more in common with them than I thought?
The very first president, George Washington, had the honor of not only declaring himself to be not a liar, but also of declaring that Thanksgiving should be a national holiday, starting in 1789. The forty-fourth president, Barack H. Obama, has also been known to declare himself lie-free, but has to do it via a Hawaiian birth certificate. However, Obama is still unable to officially declare himself a descendant of the Separatists™ by way old-timey named relatives like John Howard, by way of Hope Howland, Hope Chipman, Chip Hopeson, Jebadiah Wood, Joanna Wood, Woodadiah Jebson, Obadiah Wood Sheldon, Flora Sheldon & Prescott Preston Penobscott Snottington. Some folks still believe Obama may somehow be distantly related to the great patriot and former Vice President Dick Cheney though. Particularly those American fans of torture.
Thus we find ourselves now at Thanksgiving this year with the millionaires in the Congress and Senate upon their rightful thrones as our story rounds to a close by bringing a vicious, karmic circle to the descendants of the Separatists™. That is, to those who are actually keeping score, as once again, ironically, they have to set place cards at the same dining table with the names of “Church” and “State.” At least at the Republican dinner table.
I’m going back to eating with the kids this year.
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