This Thanksgiving is going to be TENSE, because I’m finally bringing the heat. My gramps is 90 years old, racist, and a big Trump guy—says Trump is the only politician today that he can understand, but that’s probably because he’s the only person in politics with a limited vocabulary and the tendency to repeat the same shit over and over again. And also, Gramps, he’s not a politician. But no one argues with him, because he’s old and it’s “just not worth it.”
I have a big Democrat family, so none of us really gel with Gramps. It would be fine if he just had different political beliefs, but the guy is LOUD about them. As soon as the conversation turns to politics, the saggy Republican raisin takes out his hearing aids, shakes his neck loose, and lets his shitpouch of opinions spill onto the table. None of us want to scream back at him because he’s 90 and would probably take a nifty croak.
This Thanksgiving, I’m getting back at him. I can’t take his Trump-loving intolerant hateful stances, I can’t let him trample all over me anymore. But I’m going to attack him softly, so he doesn’t die of a stroke or whatever.
Boy oh boy, old Gramps is gonna get his ass whooped at UNO this year.