As we get ready to prepare a Thanksgiving dinner, I thought we ought to take a stroll down memory lane, when food was, you know. Food.

Disclaimer: This piece contains professional outrage, industrial-strength profanity, and enough sarcasm to melt a Senate hearing. It’s satire, folks — the political kind, not the punch-down kind. Any resemblance to actual turkeys, living or indicted, is entirely coincidental. The views expressed herein are those of George on caffeine, rage, and principle — in that order. Read with adult supervision, critical thinking, and a full stomach.

You ever notice how every time this administration says “things are better,” it somehow means you get less?

Welcome to the 2025 Thanksgiving Special: the one where the president who’s refusing to feed the poor declares victory because Walmart shaved three bucks off your grocery bill—by deleting half the dinner.

Here’s the pitch: “Prices are down! Affordability is up!”

And sure enough, Walmart’s got their shiny new Thanksgiving basket front and center. It serves ten people for under forty bucks.

Sounds great, right?

Until you read the fine print—and by fine print, I mean the missing ingredients.

Last year’s basket had twenty-nine items: fresh produce, onions, celery, sweet potatoes, whipped topping, rolls, two pies, and brand names you actually recognized. This year? You get twenty, mostly stamped with “Great Value,” which is corporate for good luck, peasant.

They dropped the sweet potatoes—the holy, marshmallow-crowned saints of the Thanksgiving table—and replaced them with boxed mac and cheese.

Boxed.

Mac.

And.

Cheese.

For Thanksgiving.

That’s not a feast, that’s a cry for help. That’s a college roommate’s emergency dinner when payday’s four days away and the stove only works on one side.

The vegetables? Gone. Celery? Nope. Fresh onions? Vanished. You still get potatoes—because potatoes are the duct tape of the grocery world—but you’d better like them bland. The dessert? Also downsized. No Marie Callender’s pie, no whipped topping, no marshmallows. You can end your “celebration of abundance” with a nice, dry spoonful of powdered gratitude.

And FOTUS—His Golden Gluttony Himself—has the gall to stand at a podium and brag: “I don’t want to hear about affordability, because right now we’re much less.”

No shit, Sherlock. You’re less food, less flavor, less dignity. You’re less. Period.

This is the same guy who’s using hunger as a political weapon, refusing to fund SNAP because Democrats won’t roll over and let him gut healthcare. Forty-three million Americans relying on food assistance—and his idea of compromise is telling them to be grateful for the discount dinner that won’t even feed a family of four for a week.

He calls it strategy. I call it sadism with a side of smug.

Meanwhile, he’s eating actual Thanksgiving dinner on plates that cost more than your monthly grocery budget. Surrounded by rich assholes who think mac and cheese comes from a chef named Jacques and that “Great Value” is an art exhibit.

You think any of these bastards have seen the inside of a Walmart? They think “rollback” is a golf term.

They don’t understand, they don’t care, and they don’t have to—because this whole charade isn’t about helping you. It’s about marketing despair as prosperity.

He’s standing on a pile of empty grocery carts and calling it a recovery.

This year’s “Thanksgiving miracle” isn’t lower prices—it’s the fact that Americans are still too polite to riot about being conned. You’re not supposed to notice that the meal is smaller, the brands are cheaper, and the desserts are gone. You’re supposed to nod and say, “Thank you, sir, may I have another?”

But here’s the truth: if the president thinks the measure of success is how many corners he can cut before people starve, he’s already lost the argument.

Because no real leader—no decent human being—looks at a table that’s half-empty and calls it full.

So this Thanksgiving, when FOTUS brags that “prices are down,” remember what he really means: you’ll pay less because you’re getting less. You’ll eat less because he took more. And if you’re hungry, that’s not his problem—it’s his policy.

This isn’t the best Thanksgiving ever. It’s the cheapest illusion money can buy.

Happy hunger, America.