It was a cold, dark, dreary Thanksgiving in 1990. I had just entered my teen years and knew little of the world around me. I knew there was something going on in the Middle East with some guy named Saddam, I knew the Arsenio Hall Show was cool, I knew Lisa Matthews made me feel different than the girls in school did, and after Thanksgiving I knew my life would never be the same. That was the year my eyes saw something so shockingly putrid, so horrible, to this day I still occasionally awake covered in sweat.
My eyes have seen a lot in their day. From the familiar to the foreign, from rainbows and sunrises to some Internet video of girls puking on each other (don’t ask – thanks, softball teammate!). Yet never have I been more disgusted and appalled then when I saw what I have posted below. Perhaps the worst thing to ever grace the small screen.
To think my family paid money to put me through that seven minutes of torture.
Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving, enjoy your turkey, and remember, it doesn’t matter how the bird got there, what matters is what kind of gravy you put on it. You hear that, Rob Zombie?