"Oh God, please don't let it be Trivial Pursuit," I thought to myself when my sister suggested we all play a game. Milling around the dessert table, stuffed to the gills, Trivial Pursuit would be the inevitable undoing of an otherwise perfect Thanksgiving. (Note to self, when stuffed with turkey and trimmings, and all the desserts look equally appealing, back away from the tray).
There's an old adage in my family; if Mom is present, don't play Trivial Pursuit - or any game for that matter. You see, there is a streak of competitiveness coursing through my family's veins that borders on psychotic. My family and board games do not mix. And right in the center of every "incidence" down through the years is the matriarch herself, dear old Mother.
Follow me below for "An O'Reilly Thanksgiving."
During my brother's high school basketball games, my step-father, may he rest in peace, would literally go to the other side of the gym and sit in the opponent's section so as not to be near my mother. Being the oldest son, I was usually chosen, by default, to stay behind and sit next to her. It wasn't that she was nasty; she was just loud, commanding, and unafraid. And boy did she hate to lose!
In Mother's world, the refs were always against us. Our team never traveled and never fouled. Of course our opponents couldn't move the ball three feet down the court without mom jumping to her feet yelling, "He traveled, ref! He traveled" Or, my favorite, "He double-dribbled, ref! Are you blind? Didn't you see that?" And anytime my brother missed his trademark 3-point jump shot, it was because whoever was guarding him had obviously fouled him. "You've got to call that ref! Are you blind? Oh. My. God. I can't believe what I'm seeing!" Then she would turn to me for some moral support, but I was usually slouched way down trying to fade into the bleachers, pretending I didn't know the crazy lady jumping up and down next to me.
And then there was college. That was a whole new level of insanity. The high blood pressure, the corrupt refs and coaches, the despicable little twerps on the other teams, all had me promising myself I would never go to another one of my brother's basketball games. But, of course, I went, because before it was all over she had gotten to me. It started innocently enough, but soon I was right there with her jumping up and down. And, you know something? She had been right all along. The refs were biased and evil. The other team did get away with more fouls and travels - even double-dribbles. And everytime my brother missed his 3-pointer, well, I swear he was fouled. Everytime.
So, as you can see, having Mother at the Thanksgiving table playing board games with the family was a recipe for disaster. Losing is not in her lexicon. And boy does she love to argue. She will argue with you until the sun goes nova, even if she's wrong - even if she knows she's wrong. But, alas, it was not to be. We all breathed a hugh sigh of relief when she told us she really didn't feel like playing any games. Her shoulder was aching from a recent fall and she thought a nap sounded pretty good.
Out came the Trivial Pursuit and we played a round with no major crisis or family schism. For a change of pace, my sister suggested we play a new game she had recently purchased called CatchPhrase. Not having mom present was an opportunity to get familiar with a new game without too much drama.
Now that game, CatchPhrase, was a fun and lively game, sort of like charades with words. Whoever has the little electronic device has to get his or her team to say the word or phrase displayed on the readout and then hands it to the other team's player sitting next to them. All the while a little ticker is sounding faster and faster until the buzzer goes off. Whoever is holding the device when the buzzer goes off gets a point for his or her team. The first team to get seven points loses the game. And that was the game we were playing when my brother-in-law uttered the words "Bill O'Reilly" when trying to get his team, me included, to say the word "journalist."
When he said "Bill O'Reilly," I blurted out in quick succession, "Liar, consummate liar, predator, sexual predator, spinmiester, asshole." The he said, "newspaper, writer," and someone on my team said,"journalist," so we got that one and it moved on. But it wasn't over. That little exchange initiated a conversation between my Republican brother-in-law and me that side-tracked the game for awhile.
Quiet and unassuming, I already knew he was a Republican. Forty years old, married twice, successful owner of a modular home business, intelligent, sports nut, hunter. Nothing too noteworthy there, but the occasional positive reference about Bush and the Iraq war over the past few years had left me with no doubt as to his politics. We don't see each other very ofen, and out of respect for family unity, we stay away from politics and religion, mostly because everyone in my family knows where I stand - I'm neither quiet nor unassuming.
I told him in no uncertain terms that watching Bill O'Reilly on a regular basis was tantamount to being brainwashed, that he couldn't know what the truth was, because O'Reilly never tells the truth. The conversation turned to Bill Clinton and how "Bush inherited the problems that led to 9-11." By then I was seeing red, but I kept my cool. I said, "If you will recall, Clinton sent cruise missles into Afganistan to try and take out Bin Laden during the Lewinsky crap, and the Republicans cried foul, said he was wagging the dog, trying to change the subject. The Republicans were trying to destroy his presidency, even impeached him, and he still managed to go after Bin Laden. Bush has had several chances to get Bin Laden, both before and after 9-11 and, let's see, where is Bin Laden now? Oh, that's right. He's still walking around in the mountains of Afganistan/Pakistan, 6"6" tall, with a dialysis machine attached to him. Bush got a Presidential Daily Briefing on his desk a month before 9-11 saying, 'Bin Laden Determined to Attack in United States,' and he did nothing, didn't even read it. He didn't pay any attention at all to terrorism because it was Clinton's thing, and anything Clinton was a no go. And then to top it all off, he lied this country into a war with Iraq. Iraq! A country that had nothing to do with 9-11."
My brother-in-law tried to interject, "But the Democrats voted for the war, too." Off I went, "Oh, don't even get me started. They were fed cherry-picked intelligence, all of the stuff that supported the war and none of the stuff that didn't. Some of them saw through it, some of them didn't. I'll give you that. But you can't honestly say, looking back, that we weren't lied into this war. Oh, that's right, you watch O'Rielly so you probably wouldn't understand that."
And that's when it hit me. I told him, "I have a proposal to make. You watch Countdown with Keith Olbermann for two weeks, I'll watch O'Reilly for two weeks, and then we'll get together and compare notes. I already know what conclusion I'll reach because I'ved watched O'Reilly, but you've never seen Olbermann. Watch him for two weeks and then tell me if you think you haven't been mislead all this time."
He took me up on that proposal, which I will follow up on in a later diary. My mom would have been proud. You see, she despises everything Bush with all the passion and vigor that she used to display at my brother's basketball games. I love her to pieces....