You have to give to the pilgrims at the first thanksgiving feast. Eating at the Indians table, stealing their stone age technology to adapt in a hostile environment. Sitting there with their superior King James hateful Christianity, these religious deviates, these Puritans. Surviving and thanking their god for sending these Indian losers to them to use, abuse and eventually dispose of them, steal their land, culture, breath etc. A mighty god is the Christian god indeed.
It would all have been a lot simpler if the Indians did not already live in balance with nature in the primitive pagan Stone Age, that they could have enslaved them like black men and women a little further south on the American geographic landscape.
The black men and women from Africa may have been contaminated or tainted with aspects of the Iron and or Bronze Age. That once lost in a strange environment, a great deal of effort, generations lost, to orientate themselves after immediate survival in a distant harsh planet. That once you lose the Stone Age thing, you are on an uncharted roller coaster ride into the unknown of future history.
That the black folks can't talk English and don't understand numbers as in seven years for an indentured servant to serve for a ticket from the old world to start a new life. New life for white folks great. New life for Africans, an eternal nightmare.
Great that forever. Breeding people like animals all part of that same hateful King James Christianity brought here by the COE types with their written charters and stock owners back home that have to be taken care of first from any profits. And what of profit from enslaving dumb stupid Africans to meet the quarterly profit and bonuses of settlers in Virginia forever.
That stealing is winning if you can get away with it and nobody can catch up to your crimes against ordinary people and or humanity. It is the backbone of the American way. Always has been. Always will be. No matter the fancy stuffing or window dressing.
And of course, I am reminded of all this as I eat my pre-packaged pre-Thanksgiving dinner, a poor person's allotment in a rich land, in its black plastic institutionalized container at the local church which already has the basement filled tomorrow by appointment for the poor, allotted time at allotted table with a space age version of turkey, gravy, stuffing the consistency of stool and paper tasting reconstituted with water dehydrated potatoes.
For what we are truly thankful, let us give thanks.