At our Thanksgiving table, the most intense competition isn't for the last piece of pie.

It's trying to get Uncle Steve to stop talking about his crypto investments.

My mom always says she "loves" my sister's green bean casserole at Thanksgiving.

But she won't let it touch any of the other food on her plate.

Our family's Thanksgiving dinner seating chart isn't about politeness or proximity to the food.

It's a strategic battlefield plan to minimize exposure to Uncle Steve's political theories and Aunt Carol's 'When are you getting married?' interrogation.

Why did the cranberry sauce get disqualified from the talent show?

It just couldn't jell with the judges.