IT'S A KEN BURNS THANKSGIVING

This year, rather than rewrite last year's "True Story of the First Thanksgiving" article, I decided to do something different. I had just spent the latter half of my October watching Chinese water torture-style filmmaker Ken Burns' latest documentary, Marbles, and realized my calling: I had to make a documentary about America's favorite November holiday.
Except I kinda ran out of time, and never really got around to filming anything. Actually, I didn't do much of anything by way of pre-production. I did interview the last living Pilgrim present at the first Thanksgiving ever. His name was Jebediah G. Cornish, and for one week I sat in his assisted living suite and listened to countless gummed hours of firsthand accounts of little known facts.
Cornish began by clearing up one major misconception: the Pilgrims were not a pious, religious peoples. They were actually violent pirates. In September of 1620, the Pilgrims were living in an abandoned English military compound, and tax-free, mind you. The King and his court felt this was wack, so they sent in the EATF (English Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms), who proceeded to firebomb the little church pirates, Waco-style. So the Pilgrims set sail.
Three months later, they stopped for directions and jerky.
Once in America, the Pilgrims decided to open a "whites only" golf course & social club. This made the native peoples mad. Rather than scalp and gut the honky wankers, the Native Americans called Michael Moore. He made a movie about it. The Pilgrims, fearing Moore's awesome creative guerrilla power, appointed 18-year-old Strom Thurmond to set up a "truce" dinner at said "whites only" club.
After much jovial eating and drinking, Thurmond and his Caucasoid cohorts challenged the Pilgrims to a friendly game of golf. The natives politely declined, because golf is gay. The Pilgrims then proceeded to kill them.
The next day, the Pilgrims built strip malls on the Natives' sacred burial grounds and declared the last Thursday of November to henceforth be known as "Biggest Shopping Day of the Year Eve."
I was mortified. Not only did this crusty multi-centurion lie to me, but his lie was stupid. I told old Jebediah G. Cornish that for playing me like an American voter, he was going to pay. And he did. With a tip of my hat, I placed his dentures into his bedpan, then back in his mouth, and bid him farewell.