Does Thanksgiving Make People Prove That They Have The Clutch Gene?
Ah Thanksgiving, the holiday us Americans celebrate and give thanks to Christopher Columbus and his crew for slaughtering so many innocent Native Americans just for living! Revisionist history has treated this day well though, we don’t even have talk about about these heinous acts, but instead we just unnecessarily eat a bunch of food with our loved ones, and completely forget about the increasing amount of starving people living in our own country, thank you! Thanksgiving is also a great social media holiday; this is the day you get to find out what everyone is so thankful for, because obviously we were all super curious! I’m thankful that you’re thankful for your family. But the point of this blog isn’t to bring light to these issues, however, Thanksgiving is the one holiday that makes you prove that you have the clutch gene.
First let’s define the clutch gene; Clutch Gene– “the phenomenon of athletes under pressure, usually in the last minutes of a game, to summon strength, concentration and whatever else necessary to succeed, to perform well, and perhaps change the outcome of the game. It occurs in basketball, hockey, football, esports, and other sports.” Most people would say that former “alleged” rapist Kobe Bryant had the “clutch gene” or degenerate gambler who “allegedly” got is his father killed from unpaid gambling debts, Michael Jordan also had this gene(except when it comes to gambling). But with the advancement of metrics and new stats, people are now starting to realize that philanthropist and god given superstar, LeBron James also has this gene.
Let’s get back to talking about how the clutch gene ties into Thanksgiving though. As almost everyone knows, Thanksgiving is placed(probably not coincidentally) the after the “biggest party day of the year” Thanksgiving Eve. I didn’t even know that this was the biggest party day of the year until a few years ago, but I guess it makes sense since nobody has work the next day and you just do nothing but eat and watch football the next day.
Back when I was a spry young[er] lad a few years ago, probably from ages 18-22, my hangovers were not as severe as they are now, and I would be able to go to Thanksgiving and binge drink again after a long night, but as lethargic 24 year old, this isn’t the case anymore. My Thanksgiving days are now dependent on my clutch gene, and let me tell ya, I have no clutch gene. On Thanksgiving Eve in 2016 I went out with my friends to the local fancy bar on the water in Oakdale, NY “The Wharf”, and I let my friend who had no ride home sleep on the floor of my basement, and when I woke up the next day, I went downstairs to check on him, and to my surprise(I really wasn’t surprised), he threw up on our new rug and my parents had to throw it out. No clutch gene.
While being much more hungover than anticipated, I decided that I’ll just drink many more alcoholic beverages at my aunts. So when we arrive at 2pm, I started to off with a titos and sprite(shoutout Eric Pearson) and drank many more throughout the day. I thought I had the clutch gene because of how much I was able to drink coming off a long night, but being “that family member” who is blacked out and making jokes about to your 90 year old blind aunt is “apparently” not clutch.
Like every other single person in the fucking world, the whole month of November you’re bragging about how much food you’re going to eat and talk about having a “food baby” which makes me viscerally pissed off hearing that phrase. “Yeah bro, I’m probably going to gain like 20 pounds at least, during dinner.” I also tell myself that I’m going to eat like 10 plates of food and starve myself for a week before, but like I said before, I’m not clutch. I always wake up and end up making breakfast, usually an egg sandwich.
Once I get done scarfing down some turkey, mac & cheese, mashed potatoes, and whatever the other foods are, I’m usually so god damn full after the first plate. And I feel so emasculated and think about how all my bros are gaining 20 pounds and having 10 plates, and I’m over here still weighing 155 pounds looking buff as hell. With the limited clutch gene that I have, I take one more piece of turkey and corn bread and eat them with so much regret. While on the depressing drive home, coming down from my black out and feeling the dramamine from the turkey kick in, I realize my lack of having a clutch gene is ultimately going to be my downfall.