Breaking bread is hard to do.

Bracing for the holidays with Trump voters? Yeah, me too.

In the immediate wake of this year’s presidential election, I lobbied Joe Biden to cancel Thanksgiving. Just this one year.

“Hey Joe…” I said.

“Hey Jo…” he said back.

“I think we should skip Thanksgiving this year, right? Maybe just like, cancel it. Just this one time.”

“God love ya, but we can’t do that, Jo. I said I’d be the president for all, and that includes the fucking idiot assholes who voted for that stupid spaghetti sauce stained son-of-a-bitch.” He said.

I sighed a deeply dejected sigh. I knew he wouldn’t go for it, what with all of his duty to democracy blah blah bullshit and the fact that he’s not despot-curious like that dumbfuck Donald. But I had to at least try.

“Ok Joe. I understand.” I said before hanging up the super duper top secret hamburger shaped phone he had given me all those years ago in that pizza place basement when I was first recruited by Soros and the DNC to be a deep state paid shill.

Welp, looks like despite my best efforts, and yes, those were literally my best efforts, Thanksgiving is still happening as scheduled. For many that means surrounding yourself with like-minded, more than a single synapse firing, not completely insane, team “sustaining democracy” loved ones.

For me, it means the annual pilgrimage with the kiddos across the wilds of Pennsylvania — to our usual destination in ruby red suburban Ohio.

For me, it means that just as it has been since Thanksgiving in 2016, that I will be choosing to break bread with loved ones who voted for Donald Trump.

For me, it means deciding if I can do that despite the fact that their vote is an endorsement of rape and treason and xenophobia and sexism and racism and authoritarianism. It means deciding if I can make small talk over the abomination that is canned cranberry sauce with a bunch of otherwise lovely people who might not LIKE all of those things, but don’t find those things to be disqualifying at the same time.

And once again, I find myself choosing to at least TRY to enjoy this day with my family. I once again find myself packing the car with enough wine to host a reunion show with ALL the Real Housewives casts, from every season they ever filmed.

I’m once again choosing to lean into that which so few of us understandably even bother to consider anymore, that which has become increasingly hard to find in a world where we are so perpetually and intentionally divided all the time.

I’m choosing to lean into our shared humanity.

And I’m not sure it’s gonna work. I’m never sure. But I’m still gonna try.

I’m still going to hope that no one brings up politics. That no one mentions his name.

But I’m prepared with a plan just in case they do.

So, if you’re out there right now, bracing like me for the maybe day ahead — may I offer you these handy talking points. May they be just enough to keep you calm, keep you sane, and keep you there long enough to enjoy some delightful pumpkin pie at the end.

CliffsNotes for Thanksgiving dinner in a politically divided family where that Trumper uncle has one too many and insists on talking about him:

When he says: “I’ll bet when you saw the grocery bill for this meal, you got excited that the mean tweets would be coming back huh?”

You can say: “As a matter of fact, the average Thanksgiving dinner is less expensive than it was last year. And it’s lovely to have a President who doesn’t attack people’s looks on a social media platform all day long. Oh, and I’ll bet you won’t be talking about how much this shit costs when his stupid tariffs make a dozen eggs cost 20 bucks.”

When he says: “Trump would end the wars in Ukraine and Gaza in 24 hours.”

You can say: “He said he’d have an infrastructure bill and a healthcare bill in “two weeks” and he didn’t get either done in 4 years.”

When he says: “But he made America great again.”

You can say: “He lost the most jobs since the Great Depression and the $7.8 trillion he added to our debt will wreak havoc on the American people for decades and will saddle our kids and grandkids with debt.”

When he says: “He built the wall.”

You can say: “Actually, he built a mere fraction of what he promised, 452 miles of a wall — most of which replaced old, existing fencing. And he never got Mexico to pay for it. He took the money ($15 billion) from our own Defense Department instead.”

When he says: “But Biden is senile.”

You can say: “Donald Trump has repeatedly claimed that the Bush he ran against (Jeb) was President during the war in Iraq, and that he ran against Barack Obama in 2020. He also recently called Hamas “hummus” and steadfastly maintains that Hungary borders Russia even though it does not. Oh yeah, and one time he asked “medical doctors” about injecting disinfectants to cure Covid. And I’m not even sure what the hell he was doing during those 40 minutes Mr. Sharks and batteries swayed on stage without speaking, but I’m sure that’s some version of genius you undoubtedly have an explanation for.”

Let’s hope no one brings him up at your Thanksgiving dinner.

As I know I won’t be bringing him up at mine.

But just incase they do, take a deep breath, a big sip of wine, and remind yourself that there are still a fuckton of others out there who haven’t lost their goddamn minds.

And you can always just fuck with them too.

Ask where you can get an abortion you don’t need, where the closest drag brunch is to take the kids to, what the turkey’s pronouns are, if you’re allowed to sit without a man’s permission and if the bathrooms at their house are gender neutral.

Grab an entire bottle of wine, or the whole damn pumpkin pie, and walk away.

And, as a personal aside — this is especially challenging for me this year, as the side I’m choosing to dine with today is the same side that’s been spending the last several days spreading my address around Twitter like it’s crushed Adderall spilled out top of Donny Dumbdumb’s Temu Resolute Desk.

Not everyone can do this today. Honestly, that’s totally understandable. We all have to do whatever it is that will make us feel surrounded by the most love.

Love and gratitude.

And to that end, please know that you all have both of those two things from me.

I love you all, and I am so fucking grateful for you. May all of you have a beautiful Thanksgiving surrounded by family and filled with peace.

And if you’re jumping into the lions den, I’m right there with you, because breaking bread with those who have inflicted this shit upon the rest of us again… is hard to do.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Love Jo ❤️