This is a satire piece by the author of Rush The Street

It’s that time of the year again boys’

I fuckin’ hate Thanksgiving and I will tell you why:

Politics:

It’s too difficult for me to explain to my catholic grandfather why we should be pro-choice. I can guarantee you that he has never woken up the next morning to a text message reading, “did you use a condom last night?” I can also guarantee you that he has not had sex with four different women in the span of 48 hours. These are the issues I have continually laid out in my head yet I cannot decide how to word it without giving my mother a goddamn heart attack.

This brings me to my second point.

Alcohol:

The weekend before coming home from college, I’m yipped the fuck out, chainsmokin’ Newport’s (cause Marbs are for pussies), blowing lines off tits, slamming back handles of $7 vodka, cause why the hell not? I can afford Ciroc but I prefer to drink shittier alcohol. I do this so I don’t have to explain to people why my trust fund sits in a Goldman Sachs account instead of a Bank of America account. Now I sit around the table casually sipping wine from Napa Valley priced about $100/glass, explaining to myself why it would be a bad idea to grab that bitch by the neck and slam it back. My family would probably sign me up for AA the next day. It’s all about making my parents proud, and appearing like I have my life together.

Questions:

I cant tell you home many fuckin’ times I get asked about school.

This is my answer:

“Schools going great Grandma, I’m doing great in all my courses and I am even the president of the investment club! Although Cornell is hard, I’m in the right place and I can feel it. The only thing I am having trouble with is getting an A on everything, you know I have always been an over-achiever!”

The real answer:

“Yeah schools fuckin’ rad, been drinking more than a fuckin fish, slammin’ all types of pussy, railing lines in the bar bathroom, fuckin’ up bouncers, you know the normal shit. Grades come second to me because I got enough fuckin smarts’ to get any job on Wall Street. Im so fuckin’ smart Goldman is reaching out to me. I don’t need a fuckin’ interview, they just need to see me in my natural habitat pullin’ girls like it’s nothin’. Shit I could sell sand to a fuckin’ Arab. This college shit don’t phase me.”

This brings me back to having appropriate table manners, and continuing to maintain this reputation that I really do have my life together.

“Alright everyone, what are we thankful for?!”

Again we find ourselves in the position of deciding whether were a good student or a fuckin’ alpha male. I think this time around I will choose good student.

“I am thankful for my opportunities in school, winning president of the investment club, getting an A on my English paper, and most importantly, being with my family!”

The real answer:

“Well shit, I am thankful for a lot of things but finding that gram of coke in the bathroom at the bar the other night definitely tops my list of shit for this year.”

Again, my Rushes, it is extremely important that you make yourself come off as a perfect child. The goal is that your parents will tell their friends about how good you are doing and next thing you know your living in Manhattan driving a fuckin’ Porsche doin’ whatever the fuck you want, whenever the fuck you want. This is all because your Aunt Jean told her friends that you are doing great at Cornell, and one of their husbands happens to be an MD at Goldman. There’s your foot in the door.

Remember, you always want to be an Auto-Bid, so fuckin’ act like one.