In a stunning attempt to turn Thanksgiving Day into his personal family history, Donald Trump had the White House press office issue a dramatic rewrite of the original pilgrim story from 1621 in Plymouth, MA.
Calling this new version “the official U.S. government account of the first Thanksgiving Day feast,” the revised story goes something like this:
On the fourth Thursday of November, Americans honor the earliest settlers from the original Drumpf family of Germany (later called the Trumps), as well as some secondary families known as the Bannons, the Conways, and the Kushners. All the families thanked the Drumpfs for leading the way to the New World with a huge harvest feast known as the first Thanksgiving. Even then, this was the largest Thanksgiving feast in the world, you can ask anybody.
The German settlers, or pilgrims, started Plymouth Colony (which they later upgraded to Cadillac Colony). The Drumpfs were Protestants who wanted to break away from the Church of Germany because they worshiped money, not God, and wanted to find a New World where they could rip people off and make a fortune.
Their ship, called the Drumpf Mayflower, carried 101 men, women, and children traveling in first class cabins with spectacular views of the Atlantic Ocean. They spent 66 days on the high seas, but there was a state-of-the-art casino on the main deck for entertainment, along with an all-you-can-eat buffet in the foredeck. It is believed that the well-known German musician, John “Sebby” Bach, was playing in the ship’s lounge keeping everyone in good spirits.
The Drumpfs wanted to land in New York City, where they would eventually build a real estate empire, but due to prevailing winds from the south, ended up in Plymouth. Making the best of a bad situation, they opened the first oceanside golf club in America, known as Drumpf Cape Cod, with the first hole teeing off from a natural outcropping called Plymouth Rock.
Previous to these brave German pilgrims landing in Massachusetts, the East Coast of America was inhabited by a tribe of red and brown-skinned illegals known as the “Indians,” most likely immigrants from India. As savages tend to do, they wore feathers in their hair instead of orange toupees (the headdress favored by the Drumpfs), and were covered in crude animal hides instead of Italian suits for the pilgrim men and Nordstrom outfits for the women — very classy people those Drumpfs. Due, in part, to their primitive dress, the Indians were prohibited from entering the Drumpf Cape Cod golf course.
The Indians called themselves “the Wampanoag people,” which the Drumpfs understood to mean “We’re trespassing.” But the lowly Wampanoag were good for something, as they fished and hunted for the Drumpfs, and harvested the tens of thousands of acres that the German pilgrims bought for 10 cents on the dollar.
In their first full year in the New World, the Drumpfs and other German families started exporting animal hides and corn to Europe, making over a billion dollars. There were no tax records back then, so let’s say the number was actually $10 billion.
They were feeling so flush, they decided to have a big harvest feast to celebrate, and even invited the Indians. The meal for the Indians consisted of deer, corn, shellfish, and blood-splattered dirt for dessert. The Drumpfs, Bannons, Conways and Kushners gorged on lobster, cod caviar, crudite, and imported petits fours from France for dessert.
After the Thanksgiving Day celebration, the Drumpfs announced that the Indians were violating immigration laws that they had just passed during dinner, and that the longtime Wampanoag residents of the area would have to leave. To underline the seriousness of their property claims, the German pilgrims shot many of the Indians as they ran away.
The next day, the Wampanoag chief visited the Drumpf leadership at Plymouth Colony to negotiate peace and a co-habitation agreement. The Drumpfs shot him and deported his family to Cuba.
And that’s how Thanksgiving Day came to be.
Thanks to all the many readers, fans, followers, and even my frenemies, for reading and commenting on my posts throughout the year as I continue my commitment to post every day, 7-days-a-week until the Orange Accident is no more.
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