I know many of you are still marinating in that dirty, post-election depression, stuck playing the twisted mind game of ‘Which of my neighbors are outright hateful bigots and which are just casually fine with hateful bigots?’ Are you still dodging the news, hoping to avoid the relentless march of America’s kakistocracy—now fueled by Christian Nationalism, weaponized ignorance, and a disturbing amount of graven bootlicking? I feel you. These days, solace feels like a luxury, though sometimes I find mine in daydreams about what it must’ve been like for the citizens of Rome right before the fall.
These are tough times, my friends. But I’m here to warn you: it’s about to get worse. Much, much worse. Thanksgiving is this week. Brace yourself.
Don’t worry—I’m not here to salt-brine your wounds, baste you in existential dread, or mash your hopes into oblivion.
We all know that one red-hatted relative—or maybe your whole family is a MAGA parade. For some, the choice is clear this year: skip the holiday, set those boundaries, and keep your sanity intact. To you, I say: good for you. Truly. It’s a bold and healthy move.
But for others, dodging Thanksgiving isn’t on the menu. Whether it’s guilt, obligation, or the promise of a good pecan pie, you’re stuck. For you, I’ve prepared something special: five foolproof tips for surviving Thanksgiving when you’re surrounded by the worst people you know—your family.
The Art of the Early Exit
Thanksgiving can feel less like a meal and more like an endurance test. There’s only so much small talk, turkey, and unsolicited opinions about the “liberal agenda” one can take before your sanity starts slipping away like cranberry sauce off a paper plate.
The move? Get through the main course, fake some polite laughter during your cousin’s weird anecdote about “cancel culture,” and start gathering your things. Quietly excuse yourself like Jesus slipping away from the crowds—say you have an early morning, a dog to feed, or just walk out. The beauty of the Irish Goodbye? No one can ask why you’re leaving if they don’t see you leave.
If someone does notice, just toss out something cryptic like, “I thought we were supposed to go forth like sheep among wolves,” and keep walking.
Turn the Turkey into a Distraction
Nothing redirects a heated political discussion like a well-timed kitchen emergency. When the MAGA brigade starts ranting about the evils of socialism (while ignoring their Medicare and Social Security benefits), suddenly remember that the turkey needs basting, the rolls are burning, or—if all else fails—exclaim, “Oh my, the gravy’s turned to tears and regret!”
Spending an extra 20 minutes in the kitchen isn’t avoidance; it’s strategy. Jesus didn’t just provide food—he multiplied it. Surely, you can channel some of that energy into fluffing up the mashed potatoes for a second round.
Pretend You’re on a Mission
Sometimes, escaping requires a bit of theater. Keep your phone handy with a prepped text or alarm. At the right moment, gasp dramatically and say, “Oh no, I completely forgot—I signed up to deliver meals at the shelter this afternoon!”
No need to over-explain. Express your deep regret, grab a slice of pie for the road, and head for the door. Sure, it’s a white lie, but it’s one Jesus would probably forgive. After all, he’d appreciate the effort. Bonus points if your fake mission guilt-trips them into donating canned goods next year.
The Bathroom Is Your Sanctuary
There’s always that moment when the conversation shifts from mildly annoying to outright insufferable. That’s your cue to quietly excuse yourself to the bathroom.
Take your time. Scroll your phone. Say a little prayer—or don’t. If Jesus needed time alone in the wilderness, surely you’re entitled to a 10-minute breather in Aunt Karen’s guest bathroom. If anyone questions your extended absence, just mutter something about the stuffing and watch them awkwardly retreat.
The Wine-and-Dine Defense
When the talk turns to vaccines, drag shows, or whatever Fox News cooked up yesterday, pour yourself a generous glass of wine. Sip every time someone says “woke,” refill every time they suggest Jesus would’ve voted Republican. By dessert, you’ll either be blissfully numb or ready to anoint yourself with the leftover Cabernet.
It’s not indulgence—it’s sacramental. Jesus turned water into wine for a reason. If he can handle a wedding in Cana, you can handle your uncle ranting about the price of eggs.
Leftovers To-Go
Thanksgiving might be a time for gratitude, but that doesn’t mean you have to be thankful for every opinion shared around the table. Whether you’re dodging debates, enduring MAGA rants, or pretending to care about Uncle Bob’s latest conspiracy theory, remember this: you’re not alone. Even Jesus had to deal with dinner guests who didn’t get the memo (looking at you, Judas).
So sip your wine, stash some pie for later, and know this—the real miracle of Thanksgiving isn’t surviving the meal. It’s doing it without flipping any tables. After all, someone still has to do the dishes.
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In