Anybody can write about the things for which they’re thankful. You’ve read hundreds of thankful Thanksgiving columns.

But do you have any idea how hard a columnist has to work to find things for which he’s not thankful? All right – not too hard.

Here, then, is my much-anticipated annual weekend after Thanksgiving column:

I’m not thankful for the NFL Network’s Denver vs. Kansas City.

I’m not thankful for the Elvis impersonator that passed me in the fifth mile of the SouthPark Turkey Trot. I was so slow, I think a Bette Midler impersonator edged me at the tape.

I’m not thankful for my inability to pick the outcome of NFL games. I used to be good at it. But saying I used to be good is like a bald guy saying he used to have hair to his shoulders or an accountant saying he used to be compelling.

I’m not thankful for paparazzi. If Tom Cruise chooses to marry a woman 30 years younger, so what? I feel so bad about the unsolicited attention their ceremony attracted that I bought the Cruises wedding gifts: for him, a wine glass; for her, a sippy cup.

I’m not thankful for NASCAR books. Every racing reporter I know has written a book about NASCAR. And no matter whom they write about, the title always includes the words lightning, grease and speed. How many do we need?

I’m not thankful for sports columnists who whine because their peers find a way to make a buck. Just bitter, I guess. My NASCAR book, “Lighting, Grease, Speed and Travis Kvapil” again was rejected.

I’m not thankful for bizarre western loser cults that give polygamy a bad name. When I was younger, I thought multiple wives would be cool. But now that I’m mature, I’m against it. Let’s say a guy has five wives. Let’s say it’s August. You want to talk about the cost of school clothes?

What’s the NFL afraid of? A coach needs permission to wear a suit on the sideline, and a player who celebrates is treated like a polygamist. I’m not thankful for enforced conformity.

I’m not thankful for adults who think it’s all right for a coach to do anything he wants. They’ll say, “Yeah, I saw coach grab that kid’s face and pull on it until it was as long as John Kerry’s. Wish he did that to the face of my boy because it would build character.”

I’m not thankful for customers who wait in line and, when they get to the front, have no idea what they want. I waited behind a woman in a coffee shop last week who ordered, changed her order, let her kids change their orders, and then, when asked if she wanted anything else, ordered four more drinks. I’ll bet you $50 I can tell you what the woman drives and, if you spot me the first letter, the names of her kids.

I’m not thankful for gossip, rumors and innuendo. Somebody writes on Iliveinmymom’sbasement.com that a football coach is leaving, and the lesser among us treat it as fact. Steve Spurrier is not leaving South Carolina for Miami.

He’s going to N.C. State.