Turkey Bones and Rotten Pumpkins

How was your Thanksgiving? Select one from these two possible responses to your answer:

1. Good, I'm glad to hear it. It's always nice to INSERT ACTIVITY HERE over the holidays.

2. Aw, man, that sucks. Well, hope you have a better INSERT NON-OFFENSIVE YEAR-END HOLIDAY HERE.

Mine? I tried watching a little bit of the Macy's parade in HD, because everything is better in HD, but the Macy's parade in HD is high-resolution boring. And, as befitting my cave-dwelling clan, Thanksgiving dinner was appropriately filled with an unnecessary amount of old-timey vaudeville melodramatics.

Turkeytime Drama

My brother called the Wednesday night before Turkey Day, and told my Mom he and his wife were coming in for the spread. My Mom knew he might be coming, so this was just a confirmation call. She hadn't mentioned the possibility of my brother and his wife joining us for Thanksgiving to my Dad earlier for two reasons:

1. My Dad doesn't like my brother and his wife.
2. My Dad is a butthole.

Oh, it's true. I've told you funny stories about my Dad before, but don't let that fool you. He isn't very funny 95% of the time, and I keep most of those stories to myself.

Now, my brother is really my half-brother. His father, my Mom's first husband, was an Italian guy named Frank who worked for the police in New York. He was very nice the couple of times I met him. He passed away several years ago, from brain cancer. My brother is 20 years older than me, so he was grown and gone before my Dad married my Mom. So they've never been close.

The reason my Dad gives for disliking my brother is this: A few years ago, my brother and his then-girlfriend stayed overnight with them, and spent the evening on a pull-out bed in the living room. My Dad thinks he busted them screwing in the living room when he got up to get something to drink. Apparently he has something against premarital sex - or most likely sex in general, because his own organ hasn't been much more than a vessel for urine in several decades. My brother swears they weren't, and I believe him for two reasons:

1. He has no real reason to lie about it. Why would you screw your girlfriend in an open living room where anyone could walk in on you? He's not stupid.

2. My Dad is a butthole.

All of this is also terribly funny to me for two reasons:

1. I have probably fornicated in that house more than anyone else who's ever been inside it, including my folks. I was never caught, because like my brother, I am not stupid. I came close to getting busted a few times, though.

2. My Dad is a butthole. I have had many up-close and personal encounters with this buttholery. The unpredictability of his buttholery, which flares up at the slightest hint of a perceived offense, ends up making a him very predictable person, if you can dig that. He's always going to do the opposite of what a normal, rational human being would do. I find it hilarious, now that I am grown and away.

What I don't find hilarious is the way my Mom worries over stuff like that.

Anyway, according to my Mom, he flew into a conniption fit over the announcement, declaring that THANKSGIVING WAS RUINED, and storming out of the house before my brother and his wife ever got there. The whole time they were visiting he stayed outside working on his car, and then drove off for several hours, returning a few minutes after they left (he must've driven by the house a hundred times).

This reaction was unsurprising to me, but it bothered the hell out of my Mom. She really believes that people can always change their ways and eventually do the right thing, no matter how often they've disproven that theory in the past. She's pretty naive. I know different. I know that some people can evolve and grow, and I've always been a fairly forgiving person willing to give many "second chances," but...I always keep in mind that once something is deep-rooted inside a person, once a particular belief or way of thinking or behaving has fully sunken its teeth into the base of their brain, then they're lost. There's no point in wasting any more time on them, even if I end up wasting that time anyway. I've seen it firsthand, many times. It's never been a shock to be shocked by it when it eventually happens.

My brother didn't give a shit. He's a pretty laid-back guy. His wife thought it was funny, so both of us cracked some jokes about it. I pointed out that he wouldn't have been very good company had he chosen to join us, anyway. More turkey and dressing and cranberry sauce and deviled eggs and sweet potato casserole for me. His loss.

So my brother, his wife, and myself had a great time visiting for a few hours, talking about movies and computers and video games and such. My Mom kept going on about how my Dad didn't understand that she had another son, and I finally got a little snappy with her after telling her not to worry about it for the 1500th time. To worry about it is to give him a victory, I told her, because he expects a reaction when he does this kind of thing, so the best course is always apathy when it comes to him. I get along with him okay nowadays, but it's the same kind of "get along" you might have with a co-worker.

Later that weekend when I stopped by, my Mom told me he never touched any of the leftovers, going out for fast food instead. Deep-rooted.

I've been thinking about it a lot, lately. They're getting on up there in years, both at 77, so I have to think about it even though I don't really want to. I've decided that if she goes first, I'll ease on over there after the funeral and gather up whatever I think belongs to me, and ease on out the door with it, and he'll never see me again. I won't even go to his funeral, nor will I participate in any arrangements. Apathy, complete and total. He's a wash, as far as I am concerned - and not because of anything he ever said or did to me, dig?

I was looking through some personals ads the other day, as I often do when I want to be an asshole and laugh about the ridiculous shit other lonely people write out of desperation, and I saw that on one of the ads the woman listed "a close family" as one of the strict requirements she expected to be met by any potential mate/date - or "Mr. Right," as she put it. I noticed this requirement on several other ads, as well.

This made me laugh, for two reasons:

1. It's a really unfair requirement to make. It's not my fault I have a shitty family. I did nothing to cause that. Alcohol and pure meanness caused that. I have a kind-hearted Mom, though, so I have half a close family. That doesn't count, evidently. Apparently we all have to take communal baths together or something.

2. My Dad is a butthole.


More leftover stuffing from me later.