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GQ Magazine Wants Readers to Sabotage Thanksgiving Dinner If Family Supports Trump

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It’s Your Civic Duty to Ruin Thanksgiving by Bringing Up Trump.

That is the title of a GQ article.

The far left can’t help themselves and needs everyone to talk about politics all day every day, even on cherished American holidays.

Why do they do this?

From GQ:

It’s late-November 2017, and you know what that means: Every man you’ve ever seen on TV for any reason has just been unmasked as a woman-hating sewer ghoul. Also, it’s time to ruin your Trump-supporting family’s Thanksgiving—for America!

Thanksgiving is a celebration of community and gratitude, where we reconvene in our nostalgia-drenched hometowns and perform time-honored traditions such as almost sleeping with your high school crush and going around the table to say what you’re most thankful for and where you were on 9/11. Last year’s Thanksgiving was a difficult time for most Americans—roughly 65.8 million of us. The election was still a fresh wound. Trump had begun assembling his Dr. Caligari cabinet of White House monsters, each one a direct fuck-you to some beloved ideal. There was the EPA chief who doesn’t believe in climate change, the labor secretary who opposed minimum wage increases, the flagrantly Islamophobic National Security Adviser who might just be a foreign agent, and at the helm of it all, a man who speaks almost exclusively in racist dog whistles and “locker room talk.” Thanksgiving was a cathartic vent sesh for liberals with like-minded families, and a painful twist of the knife for those without.

Continued:

Don’t show up. For some parents, your absence will speak louder than any sodden arguments over the density of pumpkin pie. If you can’t even look them in the eye, they’ll know you mean business. Besides, Friendsgiving rules.

Show up and be kind of an asshole. No hugs; only stiff, formal handshakes. During the football game, talk about police brutality nonstop. Take any opportunity to emphasize just how much Bruce Springsteen and the entire E Street band loathes Trump. Come out as an aspiring professional DJ.

More:

Scorched Earth. Not even a handshake; just stare, disgustedly, at their outstretched arms. Build a wall out of mashed potatoes. During the football game, order 10 Papa John’s pizzas—the official foodstuff of the alt right—and use them as pie charts to demonstrate who benefits most from the GOP tax plan. Refuse to be alone in a room with your mom, citing the Mike Pence rule. Call your parents by a Donald Trump nickname of your choosing—perhaps Little Rocket Mom or Liddle’ Dad. Insist on setting a place for Robert Mueller, the way Jews do for Elijah on Passover. Wear a coal miner hat for solidarity. Punch a cornucopia right in the mouth.

How infuriating.

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