• ...for Oprah's Favorite Things. There was a time in my life when I didn't know what I should buy. There're so many choices out there. It's easy to get confused. But Oprah takes away that awful indecision. All I have to do is buy what she buys. Thanks, Ms. Winfrey!
• ...for tax cuts. Sure, most of the actual cuts went to those who are at the top of our economic food chain--status which they all deserve, by the way--but I know that, when they spent their money, some of it trickled down to me. I couldn't tell you exactly how these tax cuts have benefited me, what with the crappy job market, lack of universal health insurance and generally depressed economy. But I know that they have helped. Otherwise, why would the president say they have?
• ...for sportsmanship. It really does my heart good to look at fine, upstanding young professional athletes and to know what a positive role-model they are for our nation's youth. Take professional basketball players, for example. They're always so thoughtful, so gentle, so refined. Thanks, basketball players, for not being short-fused, overpaid thugs. Bless you.
• ...for local television news, without which I'd never know when something in my house was actually deadly. If it wasn't for local news, who would harass small businessmen in need of a good shaming? And how would my curiosity about a network television show's behind-the-scenes story ever be sated? Thank God, says I. Thank God for those hard-working, witty news teams. Especially the AM Wake-Up shows. They're the best.
• ...for No Child Left Behind. Before this landmark piece of legislation, we had no way to truly quantify a child's learning. Sure, the teachers could observe their students and get to really know them and where they were at in their learning. And, yeah, the teachers gave grades. But how were we to answer the all-important question of how a child performed when you told him/her that a half-hour multiple choice test would determine if they flunked or passed? It's so much better to base the money a school receives on how children react to incredible pressure.
• ...for In-Touch Magazine. Looking back, I truly can't figure out how I ever lived without knowing which celebrities were dating someone new or how a panel of fourth-tier comedians felt about particular outfits. During Mary-Kate's nightmarish ordeal this year, it was only In-Touch, with their unrelenting coverage, that kept me sane. If only other magazines modeled themselves on In-Touch. Well, it sure would make that dreary ol' Newsweek a whole lot more enjoyable.
• ...for the Gentleman Politician. It's comforting to know that the men who are running our country--oh, yeah, and I guess there's a couple of women; that's just so cute--are upstanding, intelligent people. The intellectual debates they have, the respect they have for each other and their abiding sense of fair play make them icons of integrity. I salute you, men of public service. (Okay, and the ladies, too. Snicker.)
• ...for irony.

Have a lovely Thanksgiving. Enjoy the Macy's Commercial Parade, featuring balloons and floats with all the product placement nearest and dearest to your hearts. And don't forget to get out and shop, shop, shop the day after. Sure, it's a crowded hellish clusterfuck in every mall and department store, but you'll be doing your part to keep our economy running strong.

• Publicly contradicting the president now punishable by caning.
• Two virgins to be sacrificed monthly to Highmaster Cheney.
• Instead of “the distinguished gentleman from [insert state]”, Democrats in the house will now be referred to as “the pissy little bitch-boy from [insert state].”
• All cabinet meetings now begin with twenty minute snake-handling session.
• Legislation no longer requires majority approval to pass, but rather “ten Republicans who dig it.”
• Ted Kennedy required at all times to wear a clown suit and a cow bell.
• Female legislators in both houses now assigned additional mandatory duties as “cloak room pleasure wenches.”
• Cabinet members with non-neoconservative tendencies must undergo partial lobotomy.
• Pledge of Allegiance now spoken exclusively in Tongues.
• In the Senate, straight white males now get two votes to everybody else’s one.
• State of the Union Address becomes “The Tostitos State of the Union Address.”
• Congressional approval of Supreme Court nominees replaced by “approval from the Lord God Almighty, as spoken in dreams and omens to President Bush.”
• Speaker of the House job now comes with official License to Kill.
• Thirteen states have initiatives on the ballots to outlaw homosexual thoughts, up to and including the strong opinion that Tom Selleck looks better with a moustache.
• Cabinet members now required to wear official uniform of pale blue jogging suit and white Nikes, and to take part in mandatory “drinking the Kool-Aid” drills.

I don't know about you, but I think this exciting new direction for our country is going to make things a lot better. After all, what did "debate" and "public discourse" ever get us? Nothin' but trouble.

Today is the Great American Smokeout, a day when smokers across the country--and our tobacco-addicted friends up north, too--are encouraged to finally give up cigarettes. I know there's nothing worse than a sanctimonious ex-smoker, but I've gotta say: I quit nearly six years ago and it's one of the best things I ever did. So I thought I'd take today to help those who are still hooked on those "coffin nails"--mercy, what a clever expression that is--and offer some Tips to Quit Smoking.

• Have your cat piss on every pack of cigarettes you buy. Trust me, cigarettes are not quite as tasty when soaked in ammonia-smelling urine. They're just barely tolerable.
• Every time you get the urge to smoke, read a bible verse instead. (No, I'm just fucking with you. Smoking's much preferable to Jesus.)
• Have your arms surgically removed.
• Suck on a lollipop instead. A tar and nicotine-flavored lollipop that you can set on fire so that the sweet, sweet smoke fills both your lungs and the emptiness in your life.
• Instead of putting the cigarette in your mouth, stick it in your ass, where it's much harder to inhale.
• Smoke pot instead.
• Visit a nursing home near you and hang out with the sixty-seven year-old tracheostomy patients who are smoking through the holes in their throats. If you still want a cigarette after that, you can usually bum one off of the respiratory therapists who all, inexplicably, smoke.
• Train your dog to attack you whenever it sees you with a pack in your hand. (Not effective if your dog smokes, too, in which case he'll probably just bum one.)
• Avoid those "waiting" situations--standing at the bus stop, rush hour in your car--when you'd normally light up by running everywhere at top speed instead. If necessary, you can also wave your arms maniacally while you do this and scream, "I need a fucking cigarette" like a banshee to anyone who stares at you.
• Make a deal with yourself that every time you smoke, you have to do it outside, dressed in a crotchless jester costume.
• When you get the craving for a butt, knock yourself unconscious with a cast-iron frying pan until the craving passes.
• In lieu of smoking, drink a pint of vinegar. Eventually, your mind will equate the urge to smoke with gut-churning nausea and smoking will lose its allure.
• Have that new "lung stapling" surgery where they close off most of your lungs, leaving just enough room for a sensible amount of air.
• Change the form of the tobacco. Instead of smoking, get your nicotine and chemicals from chewing tobacco. That way, you rot your lip instead of your lungs. Plus, the spitting gives people a whole new reason to be repulsed by you.
• Give up and just fucking smoke. Because, even six goddamn years later you're going to get the urge. It's pathetic. Just smoke, you lucky, lucky bastard.

• I missed most of tonight's episode of The Wire.
• The Browns are still sucking. Bad.
• John Irving's last novel sucked and he hasn't written anything great to redeem himself.
• My cousin's getting married in China this month and I can't afford to fly over for the wedding.
• There aren't going to be any new Ray Charles records.
• There are going to be new Celine Dion records.
• My sink is full of dishes.
• Parent-Teacher conferences are this week.
• I can't afford to buy my wife an I-Pod this year.
• I can't afford to buy my wife a clothespin this year.
• The Museum of Modern Art in New York is charging something like $120 for admission. This is an exaggeration, but only by a couple dollars.
• An idiot is leading the free world.

This calls for some deep, deep sighing.

• Listen to a tape of one of Bush, Sr.'s speeches. This has always worked for me. For one thing, he's got that Mr. Rogers sing-song quality in his voice that lulls me into drowsiness. For another, he was usually talking about things that didn't interest me in the slightest. Download him from the net. It's more effective than Sominex.
• Warm milk and bourbon. My mom used to give me this one. You take a tablespoon of milk, mix in three cups of bourbon, then chug. Knocks you right out, plus there're fun "hey, the room is spinning" side-effects.
• Read pedagogy textbooks. I'm reviewing these as part of my fun, fun Masters program and, trust me, you'll be asleep before you get through the first paragraph. If you're not, you should look into becoming a teacher. And giving me your job.
• Have a big-game hunter rub your belly. (Only applicable if you're a crocodile.)
• Ask an actor to "explain their process" to you. The only drawback to this is that they'll still be going on when you wake up and may, in fact, follow you into the bathroom so they can continue while you shower.
• Do a quick pre-bed triathalon.
• Hit yourself on the head several times with a rolling pin. I've never actually tried this, but it seems to have always worked in 1930s-era comic strips.
• Two words: Slide Show!
• Sit in your car in the garage with the car running. Make sure you have a "safety buddy" who will turn the car off after you've passed out. Your safety buddy should preferably be someone to whom you owe money, and thus has a vested interested in you staying alive.
• Men, hang out with a large-breasted female friend and keep yourself from inadvertently glancing at her chest. Believe me, this is exhausting.
• Counting sheep has never worked for me, so I like to count George W. Bush's foreign policy blunders.
• Ensure total sensory deprivation by gluing your eyes shut and filling your ears with caulk.
• A mid-night snack of turkey with turkey gravy and delicious garlic-valium mashed potatoes. You'll probably want to skip the pie and coffee, possibly substituting it with a few bong hits. (Hairshirt does not condone drug use. Neither do we condemn it.)

However you do it, make sure you get plenty of rest tomorrow so you can vote that screaming ass-monkey out of office.