Welcome back, Friends! While The Funhouse is normally a place to let loose and be yourself, I regret to announce that if you wish to enter today, you’ll be obliged to abide by a temporary rule that’s in effect for this week only. If I hear anyone making a lame, cliched post-Thanksgiving joke about how much you ate yesterday, you’re gonna find yourself out on your ass. Got it?
This is actually an ideal time to talk about our annoying habit of needing to hear ourselves talk. What is it that motivates a person, apparently beyond his or her powers of resistance, to point out to anyone within earshot that they consumed a hearty portion of turkey on a day that has been traditionally reserved for exactly that activity for as long as any of us have been alive? Do you honestly think anyone finds it amusing when, for the 47th time (in my particular case), you place your hands on your belly and declare “Boy oh boy! I think I’m gonna need a new notch on my belt today! HAR HAR HAR!”? “I’m gonna be in a turkey coma all day long! HO! HO! SNARF! HA! HA!” “Leftovers? What leftovers? SNORT! HA! HA!”
No, you don’t honestly think anyone will find those tepid quasi-jokes amusing but you just have to make them anyway. You are incapable of NOT forcing others to laugh politely at your lack of originality and adding a bit of their own out of a sense of obligatory politeness: “Oh, I hear you! I feel like I’m ready to burst, too!” This is a completely unnecessary exchange. In fact, it was completely unnecessary the first time anyone ever made such a quip on this particular day of the year — all the Pilgrims knew it was lame, as did the soon-to-be-homeless indigenous peoples of North America…but they probably all forced laughter anyway, thus initiating this unofficial yet insidious tradition. “Oh, Mr. Standish, thou art quite the card the way thou holdeth thy belly and informeth us of thy fullness! HAR HAR HAR!”
Now, if you’re thinking to yourself that I’m making too big a deal out of this and that I should just let people exchange their post-holiday pleasantries in peace, you’re wrong. You’re also banished from The Funhouse for the week. Go on. Shoo. Get the hell out. No, you don’t get a refund, you cheap bastard, I told you the rules before you bought your ticket.
To everyone who is still here, I applaud you for your refreshing application of self-control. Because you were able to refrain from blurting out gastrointestinal witticisms, you have truly earned the right to enjoy this week’s video. I’m going to take my leave now…I ate like a pig yesterday and I feel like I’m gonna burst! HO! HO! HAR!