Prepare for the Inevitable Political Arguments at Thanksgiving with the Turkey Poncho

Families will be at each other’s throats this Thanksgiving. The political divide feels wider than ever, and both sides are digging their heels in. It’s a foregone conclusion that there will be heated arguments. But there’s no need for your bird to get drenched in spittle just because your dad starts claiming ectopic pregnancy is “no big whoop.”

You need a Turkey Poncho.

We know, you’ve heard it before: “A polyester cloak that you slide over your Thanksgiving turkey so it doesn’t get spat on during screaming matches? Not interested.”

Sounds like someone is headed for drool-covered poultry.

Admit it, you’re already worried about seating arrangements. Your uncle just got laid off from the Chrysler factory, and all his hats have American flags on them. Your younger sister recently learned the word “nonbinary” and uses it in every sentence. Your grandpa is openly hostile to women who wear pants. This will not go well.

Don’t let the food suffer. Your turkey’s going to need some protection when your vaccine-hating cousin starts foaming at the mouth, and this poncho’s patented synthetic blend is the best on the market at repelling the conspiracy mist from that mouth.

It doesn’t matter what preparation you’ve put into your Thanksgiving feast, because before the mashed potatoes do a full lap around the table, everyone’s going to be spit-shouting over whether it’s good or bad that America is a nation of immigrants.

For the record, pro-migrant loogies taste just as gross.

Election years are notoriously difficult for shared food. If you want a halfway-edible bird, you need this poncho. It’s even wind-resistant, which will come in handy when your aunt starts hyperventilating because no one else thinks the world is flat. You saw her Facebook post, “If the world is round, why do basketballs stop rolling?” This is the person you’re supposed to have a non-spitty conversation with?

Trust us, Thanksgiving hangs in the balance. Placed on the table between backward-hat nephews who quote Andrew Tate and pale nieces fired up about Roe, your bird is squarely in the Rage Zone, which will result in a sheen of slobber that makes it unappealing to consume. We’re not exaggerating. The average unclothed Thanksgiving turkey typically absorbs up to six tablespoons of MAGA saliva. Eight if the Lions lose.

With each Turkey Poncho order, we’ll throw in a set of fork silencers to be placed on the tines, which blunts the sounds of silverware scraping on plates during seething silences. It’s a chilling noise that inevitably comes before someone says, “The Great Replacement Theory gets a bad rap.”

Then there’s the kids’ table. Typically placed behind an unpleasant plus-one with thoughts on which races should stop procreating, the children are in constant danger of getting hit with stray biscuits. But this can be easily defended by investing in Carbohydrate Riot Shields, which will absorb the buttery blows of all but the most crustily baked bread items.

This all may sound unnecessary to you. After all, what’s to keep us from starting a constructive national dialogue where we approach our differences respectfully, with an aim toward healing our fractured families and making life better for all?

Fuck you, that’s what. They’re coming for our guns.