Cliff here. A lot of you tinkerbells out there have forgotten why we celebrate Thanksgiving. The “First Thanksgiving” was actually a party the settlers threw for the Indians (or Native Americans, for you politically correct pricks), to try to convince the badass redskins not to kick their scraggly European asses. It’s a fact that the longer a group of people live in the great U.S. Of A., that the more dominant they become. Case in point: Italians/Sicilians. I know some a-hole is going to email me and expound on the different peoples that populate the two areas, but nobody else in the world can tell the difference. Still, when they moved their cute little clubs to the Land of the Free, all of a sudden, the Mafia is born. Coincidence? I think not…

Despite all of that, or maybe because of it, we live in the greatest country in the world. When did that all start? When we decided to figure out the current residents’ strategies (Native Americans), and learn their weaknesses before crushing them. I know everyone always thinks the Indians got a raw deal, but let’s be real. I’ll take a cut of the profits from your casino, and you can come work your balls off every day to get paid. You can chalk all that gamblin’ cash up to the first settlers sizing you up with a party “in your honor”. You’re welcome.

Check out some of the foods on the menu that first meal: wild turkey, venison, squash, lobster, fruits, nuts, and seal. Effing SEAL? Count me in. I, for one, want to eat every type of animal. Kangaroo, check. Elephant, check. Tiger, check and check. Doesn’t matter what it is, I want to feast on the flesh of every animal, just like the Good Lord intended. I’m really looking forward to some platypus, while you sissies can eat your ham like the bitches you are.

Anyway, I’ll be stuck with your mother’s family this year, eating the same boring turkey and ham that we had last year. I have to have eat somewhere, and I may as well have dinner where I can slip up to the bathroom for a little pre-(and post-) turkey nookie. and while I’ll probably bring some fresh, hand-killed wild bear meat to liven the place up, but I’m still going to have to deal with that damn bird. If you find yourself stuck giving thanks over a giant, over-fed turkey on Thursday, here’s how you take care of business, man-style.

The turkey is traditionally carved by the alpha male in the family. Chances are, that’s not you. This is your year to knock the grizzled old veteran off his perch, and take what’s yours. If it comes to blows (and hopefully it does-nothing asserts your dominance like standing over the bloodied, unconscious body of your predecessor), you’ll need to read How To: Win a Barfight to know how to prevail, because those old bastards are crafty. With that said, you can choose one of two ways to slice up the bird.

Method 1: Biggest effing knife ever. Don’t settle for that little “cleaver” in the knife block. You want something that shows your absolute mastery of all that is badass. If you have a sword (not a Lord of the Rings movie replica, you pimply-faced douche), use that. If not, a chainsaw will also do the trick. Try to find the biggest, meanest cutting utensil in the house or garage. An axe is pretty badass. A circular saw is really badass. Have fun with it, but don’t forget that the ultimate goal is total family dominance. While slicing, make eye-contact with every member of the brood. Hold the eye contact just a little too long. If your brother brought an uncharacteristically hot broad to the holiday dinner, hold her gaze the longest. She might be dessert. It doesn’t matter how you carve the turkey, just make sure the hunks are man-sized. The average 30-lb. turkey can feed about 3-4 men. I like the common quartering method, that way noone feels cheated.

Method 2: No knife at all. Tear that bitch apart with your bare hands. Snap bones, rip gristle, and generally make a scene. Throw the meat hunks in the general direction of anyone who is dumb enough to ask for some. Picture yourself as William Wallace with no utensils. Still operating from above your unconscious former patriarch, this will secure your position as head of the assembled households. Feel free to eat your portion first, while the other members wait for you to finish. That’s how it’s done in the wild, and you want them to fear and respect your man-ness. Don’t be a pussy, and this could be your chance to finally get the respect you obviously don’t deserve.

Sieze your chance to get your first, king-sized portion, and make sure Grandpa sees your physical and mental dominance of the family(ies). He’s going to be the first to die, and likely has the most money. You probably aren’t even in the will at this point, so give him a reason to pass his hard-earned cash to you. Now is the time for you to stop being “Little Billy”, and get your family to use your full name, and associated titles. If you have no titles, make some up. I’m partial to “Lord of the Four Realms”, “Big Cock Master”, and “Destroyer of Worlds”. Those are some of my titles, you earn your own (and “Pretty Good Guy” is not a title, it’s a Chris Knight song). See you next week.