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Thanksgiving, as it tends to be celebrated, is the most honest American holiday: all appetite, no apology. Every other event on our civic calendar asks us to remember something noble, or to mourn something tragic, or to celebrate something grand or abstract, but Thanksgiving just asks us to be hungry together, and then to eat. In any year, this would be a potently simple path to commonality; it might be the last truly unifying experience available to us as Americans. This year, sitting down for a feast in a time and a place and a nation that seems to be actively working to become more brutal, more indifferent, more willing to make people suffer for the sin o

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