I just found the funniest fucking thingGGGGG it’s a website where you make fake simpsons synopsises and compile screenshots from the show that fit the plot, which is simple enough but this is the first one I found
For his first Thanksgiving alone in 1985, Scott Macaulay was thinking that he would have to heat up a frozen turkey dinner and turn on a football game to stifle the silence in his apartment near Boston.
With his parents recently divorced and “nobody talking to anybody,” he said, “I was looking at a pretty rotten Thanksgiving. And I absolutely hate to eat alone.”
Then Macaulay, a divorced vacuum cleaner repairman, had an idea: What if he took out an ad in his hometown paper, the Melrose Free Press, and invited 12 strangers to join him for Thanksgiving dinner? It seemed like a manageable number to host at the First Baptist Church he attended — and, yeah, it was a little crazy, but it had to be better than being lonely.
“I knew that I couldn’t be the only one in this situation,” he said. “There had to be at least a dozen people out there who didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving Day alone.”
Actually, more.
Since those 12 strangers gathered around his table for turkey, stuffing and pumpkin pie 33 years ago, Macaulay has made his free feast an annual event, inviting anyone to make a reservation by calling his office phone number that’s printed in the paper. He does not own a cellphone or computer. Through the years, he has fed plenty of widows, widowers, homeless people and college kids who can’t make it home. A few years ago, one of his guests crawled under the table. All are welcome.
i had to watch this like 5 times because of no captions but lmao if someone makes a transcript for this it would be bomb
transcript: “So we have these Santas at work, right, okay? We have black and we have white Santas. And they’re like creepy, five-foot tall, lifelike animatronic… like, Santas that hold plates of cookies and milk, and they kinda look like they could wake up and come to life and murder you in your sleep– and they don’t include batteries, but we have these Santas. Like nothing screams ‘festive holiday cheer’ like a big, hulking Santa. Um. Nothin’ will jingle your jangles more. So, um, this woman comes in and she’s like, “Do you have these?” and I’m like, “Oh my god, yeah!” So a couple weeks ago we sold out of our white Santas, and we are down to like, three black Santas. And so, I take her to the aisle, I show her the Santas, and the first thing out of her mouth is, “I’m not racist, but…” and I’m like, well, I can’t– I’m not in the position to decide if you are or not, but if like– if I could use context clues and infer, uh, I would say maybe that you might be. And three, we’re talking about Santa. Like– (stuttering) did we switch subjects? And so, um, I’m in like, I– the next thing that pops out of her mouth is like, “This is not right.” and I’m like, okay, I’m sorry, but this is what the picture was. And she’s like, “No. Santa is white.” And I’m like, oh no, okay. Okay. So I’m in– I’m about to tell her, I’m like, mid-sentence, like, “I’m sorry, do you want me to go call another store, do you need me to, like, write you a raincheck just in case we we get any more.” And she’s like, “This is wrong, I want them taken down.” She interrupts me, says that, and I’m like, (pause). I like, look around, and I’m like, is she talking to me? Is this, like, my own, like, personal hell? But like, of course it is. So, um, I’m like, “I can’t take these Santas down.” And she’s like, “Why not?!” And I’m like, “You either have to buy them, or take them down yourself.” And that was like, the stupidest thing I could have ever said, because– (sighs) she takes this bag, with like, Jesus’s face, like, slammed right in the middle as a design– it’s big– she takes it off her shoulder, and starts beating these black Santas! She starts beating these Santas down, they were like, falling down… and I’m like, oh my god! What– what is happening? So like, I step in the middle of her and these Santas and I’m like, “Ma’am, ma’am, you need to leave, you need to stop, or I’m going to have to call someone.” So she like, stops, and she’s like, beet red, and like, huffin’ and puffin’, and she like, looks at me and I can tell she’s just trying to get like, a one-liner in, and she’s like, “The Santa I know is white.” And then she walks away. And I’m like, well– I’m processing what’s happening, while also thinking, like, the Santa you know? Santa’s not real. So unless you’re using an ouija board to contact good old Kris Kringle, um, from like, B.C. or whenever, I’m like, that’s pretty impressive, but how ya doin’ that. And, um, I– the last thought that ran through my mind is that, I’m like, I would hate to be in the room with her when she finds out that Jesus is not white.”
Exodus from the blue hellsite 