How to Talk to Your Pansy Marxist Nephew at Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving and thanks for publishing my column. I'm a big fan of this holiday because few things are more American than boozing up and chowing down 'til your ankles swell and your corduroys pop. In between, you get to watch some football and share your thoughts on the trainwreck presidency of Barack Hussein Obama (hint hint). I consider myself a knowledgable debater because I read up on the blogs and I'm typically one of the most "liked" commenters on the articles. The reason I'm writing this is because my brother's dumb kid likes to get chatty with me. I've never seen anyone bring so many printouts to the dinner table. His "talking points," he says. Reminds me of my last divorce, all those friggin' printouts. This kid, my nephew, will never admit to being a communist, it's always this "moderate independent" crap. But his Facebook feed is full of Bernie Sandinista, if you know what I mean, and he recently tweeted some gibberish about riding the bus in Czechoslovakia and identifying as a "human being" instead of what he is, an American. He's been a "student" at some Ivy League circlejerk for the better part of a decade. I think he's 29, who the hell even cares? If he's the future, this country's digging its own grave and I'm glad I won't be there when it finally kicks the bucket. When I was his age, I was flying Ranger battalions into Grenada in '83. I spent Thanksgiving there, and believe me, we didn't have any damn printouts. We had a war, son. A lot of my buddies have similar situations in their families, and they're always asking me for advice on how to put up with this left-wing propaganda. Well, I'll give you a taste. He's gonna be all like "you're just giving ISIS what they want." I'll come back at him with something like: "You know, you raise an interesting point there, Brayden. I'll tell you what, why don't you invite one of your ISIS pals around the house and we'll see how much he likes it when I slash his guts out with the turkey knife. You think that's what he wants? They want us to crush them? Tell me something, how did you feel when your Little League team got mercy-ruled by those country boys in the district finals? Is that what you wanted? Were you just phoning it in for the "participant" trophy? Is that why you're too afraid to shave that pathetic beard? Becausethat's what ISIS wants? Am I othering you right now? Did I carpet bomb your safe space?

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