Friends, Americans, countrymen, lend me your ears, not for a kingly address, but for a street-level sermon on the season’s simmering discontent. It’s that time of year again, folks. Turkeys are brining, cranberry sauce is bubbling, and families are bracing for the annual ritual of forced cheer. But this year, a new dish seems to be bubbling under the surface – a revolutionary stew called “Eat the Rich.”

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Cannibalism? In America? Sounds like a plot for one of those late-night horror flicks they play on channel 13 after the news. But hold on a darn minute. This ain’t about literal flesh-eating, folks. This is about a metaphor, a primal scream from the bellies of the forgotten – the working stiffs who keep this country running while their plates stay half-empty.

Let’s face it, friends. The American Dream has curdled into something sour. We’re promised equal opportunity, a land of milk and honey, but for many, it’s a mirage shimmering in the heat of inequality. The top 1% are feasting on caviar while the rest of us are scraping by on gruel. Minimum wage can’t buy you a decent life anymore, and the cost of groceries is rising faster than a politician’s promises. Housing? Forget about it. It’s a game rigged for the fat cats, leaving the working class scrambling for scraps.

That’s where “Eat the Rich” comes in. It’s not a call for barbarity, but a rallying cry for justice. It’s the voice of the dispossessed, the underpaid, the over-worked, saying, “Hey, enough is enough!” We’re tired of watching billionaires launch themselves into space while we can’t afford decent healthcare. We’re tired of tax breaks for the wealthy while schools crumble and infrastructure decays.

Now, some folks might scoff. They might say, “Slade, you’re just stirring up trouble.” But trouble? Trouble is what we’ve got simmering right now, folks. A pot of resentment boiling over with every eviction notice, every medical bill that bankrupts a family, every CEO who boasts about record profits while his workers struggle to put food on the table.

So, what does “Eat the Rich” mean for this Thanksgiving feast? It means taking a hard look at the menu. It means questioning the status quo. It means demanding a fair share for the people who keep the gears of this nation turning. It’s about remembering the original spirit of Thanksgiving – a harvest shared by all, not just the privileged few.

Here’s my proposal, friends. This Thanksgiving, let’s set an extra plate at the table. Not for some long-lost relative, but for the symbol of what “Eat the Rich” truly represents: fairness. Let that empty plate be a stark reminder of the millions who can’t afford a decent meal, of the working families who have to choose between putting food on the table or paying the bills.

And while that plate sits empty, let’s have a conversation. Let’s talk about raising the minimum wage to a living standard. Let’s talk about affordable housing and universal healthcare. Let’s talk about closing the tax loopholes that allow the wealthy to hoard their fortunes while the rest of us struggle.

Maybe this Thanksgiving, we can use “Eat the Rich” not as a threat, but as a springboard for a more just and equitable society. Maybe we can turn this revolutionary stew into a recipe for change. Maybe, just maybe, we can ensure that everyone, not just the privileged few, gets a decent slice of the American pie.

Now, I know some of you might be worried about rocking the boat. After all, Thanksgiving is about family and tradition. But what if, friends, the true tradition is the fight for a better life? What if the true meaning of family extends beyond blood to the community we share?

This Thanksgiving, let’s raise a glass, not just to our loved ones, but to the forgotten, the underpaid, the under-represented. Let’s raise a glass to the idea that a rising tide can lift all boats, not just the yachts of the wealthy. Let’s raise a glass to the revolutionary spirit that whispers, “Eat the Rich,” not in a literal sense, but in the sense of demanding a fair share for all.

Because, friends, the only thing scarier than a plate full of the rich is a nation where the working class can’t even afford the stuffing.

This is Jericho Jake Slade, signing off. Until next time, keep an eye out for the truth, no matter how ugly it gets. And

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