Things That I Am Not Thankful For This Thanksgiving

Well, guys, we’re almost three weeks into November. Do you know that that means? Well, yes, there has been a major turkey genocide over the past few months that the media refuses to talk about, but that’s not what I’m talking about here.

Where’s their memorial, America?

Mass turkey murder is, however, related to what I want to talk about this week, because what I’m going to ramble about pertains to Thanksgiving. More specifically, I’m going against what everyone on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and probably every other blog site is writing about, and instead write about the things that I am not thankful for this year. Why? Because complaining is, like, the third best thing the internet does, right after showing us people’s privates and running jokes into the ground.

So, yeah, here’s what I’m not thankful for:

My stupid mortal body

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you already know that, objectively, I am hot as hell. When I take off my shirt, people confuse me with a perfectly crafted Greek statue. Each of my eight abs are gifts crafted with love and then given to humanity by a God who wants nothing but the best for our species. My ass has its own aura- that’s how good I look naked.

I have an aura here; you just can’t see it because you aren’t worthy.

Having said all that, I am not going to look this way forever. I know that, and I absolutely hate it. I have every intention to prevent my body from turning into a ball of fat for as long as possible, but even with that determination, my body will still fail in other ways. For instance, I have to go to the chiropractor every week to deal with my shoulder issues. I also have to rehab my wrist at the gym sometimes because I injured it at work 3 years ago. Oh, and this week my ankle hurts, so I can’t run. Fuck, how am I supposed to keep my heavenly physique if my stupid body keeps getting sore because I’m lying on the couch weird? If my cells regenerated forever, I wouldn’t have to worry about that. But no, I have to age like the averages and the uglies. That’s fucking bullshit.


OK, I’m not specifically not thankful for Jello itself; I love that shit. No, I’m not thankful for Jello because they changed their packaging for their single serve cups. They’ve gone from six in a package to four. Not cool, Jello-Corp. Not cool at all. I went to you over Snack Pack because of the 6 pack deal, and now you’re going to switch that up on me?! Look Jello, if you’re going to do that shit, then I’m going with Snack Pack. Snack Packs are cheaper than your brand and they’ve been endorsed by Billy Madison. All you’ve got is higher prices and Bill Cosby jokes. Get over yourself and go back to the 6 pack. I don’t give a goddamn about what state the economy is in. Just do it.



I mean the sandals. No one should wear them. And from the yells on the internet, everyone in the world agrees with me. But then why are they still in business? I’m sure that the prison industry isn’t big enough to keep those rubber sandals afloat. Who else is buying them? Because if you believe the opinions online, every single person on the planet hates crocks twice. Their like the Nickelback of shoes. Everyone hates them, but they refuse to disappear into the sands of time. So I guess that means that I also not thankful for the people who wear crocs, either ironically or not, for keeping that company in business. If you want to wear them, then wait a decade or two for them to be associated with prisoners, just like saggy pants, and then hop on the thug train. As for everyone else, let’s just ignore those people’s existence.


I’ve mentioned before how awful some commercials are, and I think we all know that they suck. But for the most part we ignore them, so how bad can they be. Well, I’m beginning to think that Ad companies are making shitty commercials on purpose so that we marvel at how awful they are. Touché,  commercials, touché. But I still hate you, especially when you make me pay attention, and especially when you’re shitty. The only reason I don’t smash my TV whenever I see a commercial I don’t like is because I like TV and how will I know what TV is the best.


This year I’ve started paying the electric bill, so I’m now sure that electricity is overrated. It’s really just a luxury. I mean, if the Amish can thrive without power, so can I. Of course, that doesn’t include cellphones, or TV, or my computer, or washers and dryers, or electric lights… Hell, see how addicted we are? This is what I mean. I hate that it’s my crutch. If I just had the power to control lightning, maybe I could do something about it.

My dog’s icy nose

Let me get this out of the way- I love my dog. She’s awesome. Sure she’s rambunctious and she just loves to sit on people, but that’s part of her lovability. I am absolutely thankful for her this year. What I am not thankful for, however, is her nose. It’s always cold. And I don’t mean “normal wet dog nose cold,” I mean “frigid artic lake cold.” She touches me with it while I’m trying to sleep, and it wakes the shit out of me. And she doesn’t touch me on my arm or my hand, where the shock wouldn’t be all that extreme, but on my face an armpits. That bitch. I feed her, give her water, take her for walks when it’s nice out and I don’t have anything better to do, and she repays me by giving me repeated blasts of icy coldness to my armpits. It’s like she does it just so that I’ll move away from her and then she can have most of the bed. Oh my God, that’s exactly why she does it! That brilliant bitch. OK, well the fact that she is so amazingly manipulative is just another reason I am thankful for her, but I’m still not thankful for her freezing ass nose. Or her farts. Her farts are awful. Trust me.

My loving friends and family

They always need something. “Minigan, could you please pay the electric bill?” My mom would say. “Minigan, we need to hang out sometime when I’m not busy.” Jimmy will text to me. “Minigan, we miss you. Please come back home, or at least call us back.” Every single damn friend and family member will say to me through their pathetic tears on my voicemail. Get a grip, people. This wolf hunts alone, and all you are doing is trying to cage me with your love and affection. I can’t stand it! Give me some space! All you do is smother me with those cards that flood my mailbox around my birthday, and by storming me in my hospital room every little time I get shot by a gang member. I’m just happy being by myself and never talking to anyone I currently and depend on for companionship ever again. I just want to disappear into the crowd and become someone totally new so that all of you in my support system will never see me again. Is that so much to ask for?

Happiness and other good feelings

This isn’t the first image for “happiness” on Google’s image search, but it is by far my favorite. Just look at all those happy Asians!

Happiness is a dick. There, I said it. We’ve all known it for years, but no one wants to deal with the consequences of saying it. Happiness is a dick and it sucks. It’s a dick that sucks itself, in fact. It’s just such an overrated and self-satisfying emotion. And those happy assholes are determined to make you happy too. “Oh, I’m in such a good mood! Here, let me help you lift that heavy thing.” A happy person will say while simultaneously sucking their own metaphorical cock. I don’t need you to improve my mood, you bastards. I am perfectly fine being the crotchety young man that I am. How dare you try to change that. I will slash your tires and then have sex with your girlfriend. I will see to it that she becomes pregnant and that you have to raise the baby. I will suck the happiness out of the rest of your life. Do you really want to fucking help me now?

People who don’t read this blog

If you don’t read this blog, then fuck you. I’m amazing. I pull letters out of the depths of space and forge them into words in the immortal fires and lightning storms that occur inside my brain. Each sentence is a gift from me to humanity, and if you cannot realize that, I hate you. I hope bad things happen to you, like you embarrassing yourself at your high school reunion. And I hope bad things keep happening to you until you start reading my blog. Then I’ll forgive you. And for those of you that do read my blog, I am thankful for you. You guys are awesome and cannot do a single thing wrong in my book. You could probably have sex it a dead monkey and I’ll not think any less of you. But you should probably spread the word of my blog even further, that way I won’t be wishing so many bad things to happen to people. I think you can count it as an act of charity or something.

Duck Face

For those of you who are lucky enough to not know, duck face is a look that stupid girls make when they’re taking pictures of themselves in the bathroom. If you see a picture on Facebook of a girl doing this, you can go ahead and assume that her daddy didn’t love her. If you see a guy doing it, find that guy and throw rocks at him. I just plain don’t understand this phenomenon. How did it start? Did it come from some far off and weird land, like Japan? Why do girls think they look cute doing it? Are we going to evolve into a species where the males choose the females over how good of a duck face they can make? Is that not the most terrifying scenario anyone has ever come up with?

To the women who make duck faces unintentionally when they take pictures, I’m not making (a lot of) fun at you here. I just want you to know that, just like crocs and Nickelback, the internet hates duck face, and I am no different. But you probably won’t understand what people see when they see your duck face pictures. Afterall, why would you keep doing it if you know it looks stupid? So to help you, I’ve taken pictures of myself doing duck face as everyone on the internet sees it:

Do you see? Do you see how stupid this looks?!

In what magical, logic-free world is this supposed to attractive?

Seriously, how did a trend like this start? Who was the first person to take their picture like this and think, “I think this is a good look for me.”

Women on the Internet, please stop posting pictures of yourselves like this. For the love of God, taking pics like this is offensive levels of retarded. Just stop.

To everyone else, have a Happy No Thanksgiving.

Peace Casserole


  1. You are still brilliant.

    • Awe shucks. Thank you Colleen.

      • Just so you know, you saved me. I was in the process of taking my pursed lip, tied t-shirt picture for my blog and facebook when I saw your post. There’s no way I could compete with how awesome you look. Not to mention I appreciate your candidness on what to not be thankful for. I share many of your ‘nots’.

        Good, fine man you are!


  2. The nickelback of shoes…I like your style

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