I hope that all of the people who read my column (all five of you) had yourselves a happy Thanksgiving. Which means I hope you ate until you were sick, got into screaming arguments with your relatives and watched football in complete, cold silence after your uncle Bruce came out of the closet to your ultra-conservative grandparents.

Thanksgiving is a unique holiday. It is on this day that we celebrate the arrival of the religious fundamentalist rejects from Europe and the beginning of the end for the indigenous people on this continent. We also get to watch football on a Thursday.

We get to see our younger family members acting in school plays in which the pilgrims and the Indians are happy and high on life. Apparently, the play ends before all the death. You never see the play in which the pilgrims give hats with belt buckles to the Indians in exchange for corn and then use their guns to shoot the Indians to get back the hats.

Thanksgiving is more important than elementary school plays, as hard as that is to believe. Thanksgiving is the time of the year when we all reflect and think about what we are thankful for. We don’t do anything about it, we just reflect on it.

I, for example, am thankful that nobody reads my column. Because of that, there is no pressure on me to make it any good. In fact, I wrote this entire column while sitting on the toilet. Without the pressure of having to put together a string of coherent thoughts, I am free to spend more time doing what I truly enjoy. For example, I can spend more time sitting on the toilet.

But I am not the only person who reflected this past Thursday while violently vomiting after eating three times my own weight in stuffing and yams.

I know my professors are all very thankful that the expectations and standards in all their classes are so dangerously low. Instead of giving students assignments that are time-consuming to grade, such as research papers or essay exams, my professors only need to pass out multiple choice exams and have someone in the testing center run them through a machine. All that not-grading gives them more free time to do the thing they love to do: Hit the sauce hard and pass out on the couch while watching David Letterman’s monologue.

Chancellor Richard Wells most likely was thankful that OSA passed his plan for the student compact. In his plan, students will pay more each year for better advising. However, Wells will only have to use a small portion of that money to pay some unemployed guidance counselors with food so they can tell students they should take a foreign language class to graduate.

With the rest of the money from differential tuition, the chancellor will be able to buy something he could actually use, like an electric guitar and lessons.

Then there is everyone else. There are those who give thanks for their good health, even though the only good health they can maintain is the fact that they are still alive. We live in a country where, opposed to the rest of the world, our biggest problem is too much food and we worry about being morbidly obese. And then we celebrate an asinine holiday by stuffing our faces with enough food to feed an entire army of hobos.

Yes, Thanksgiving is a time to give thanks. And more than anything, I’m thankful that it’s over for another year. Because giving thanks really blows.