Thanksgiving is supposed to be about turkey, family, and maybe pretending we’re grateful for another year of chaos. But this year, one animated show decided to stuff the bird with something far spicier: a full-on roast of America’s growing addiction to Saudi money.
I’m not going to lie—when I pressed play on the latest South Park special, I expected crude jokes about pilgrims and pie. Instead, I got a surprisingly sharp takedown of sportswashing, celebrity hypocrisy, and the moral gymnastics we all perform when the paycheck is big enough. And honestly? It left me staring at the screen thinking, “Yeah… they’re not wrong.”
When a Kids’ Cartoon Becomes the Voice of Conscience
South Park has never been subtle. For almost three decades it’s been kicking sacred cows in the teeth while the rest of us politely look away. But this time the target isn’t just some random politician or pop star—it’s an entire pipeline of petrodollars flowing straight into American pockets.
The episode kicks off innocently enough. The town is broke, the annual Turkey Trot race needs sponsors, and nobody local is stepping up. Then someone floats the idea everyone’s apparently already thinking: why not take money from “that country that’s giving cash to literally everyone else right now?”
Cut to a gloriously over-the-top fake commercial complete with Arabic-style music, dancing dudes in thobes, and a hilariously ominous disclaimer that “disparaging remarks toward the royal family will result in immediate disqualification.” If you’ve paid any attention to certain recent comedy festivals in the desert, you know exactly what they’re referencing.
Cartman, Suddenly the Kingdom’s Biggest Fan
Leave it to Eric Cartman to become the unexpected poster child for moral relativism. The kid smells a $5,000 race prize and instantly morphs into Saudi Arabia’s most enthusiastic American defender. His arguments are so absurd they loop back around to terrifying plausibility—the exact kind of mental gymnastics we’ve heard from real-life figures lately.
“You want them to go back to cutting people up and paying Kevin Hart? Is that what you want?”
– Eric Cartman, professional troll and sudden geopolitical scholar
When Tolkien Black (yes, they’re still leaning into that name) refuses to run in a Saudi-sponsored race because “it doesn’t feel right,” Cartman unleashes a torrent of “logic” that sounds disturbingly familiar:
- They’re trying to be progressive, dude.
- If they’re busy funding American stuff, they’re not out there hacking up journalists.
- They let women drive now—it’s basically a lesbian utopia!
- Oh, and if you don’t take their money, you’re personally responsible when they stuff another reporter into a suitcase.
It’s dark. It’s uncomfortable. And the worst part? We’ve all heard versions of these excuses in real life, just dressed up in slightly more polite language.
The Real-World Parallels Are Impossible to Ignore
Look, I’m not here to throw stones from some imaginary moral high ground—nobody’s hands are clean in global finance. But the speed at which certain industries have sprinted toward Gulf money over the past few years has been breathtaking.
Golf is the most obvious example. Top players who spent years swearing they’d never touch the rival tour suddenly discovered that principles have price tags after all. One minute they’re talking about “growing the game,” the next they’re cashing checks that could fund a small nation.
Soccer’s the same story on steroids. World-class footballers who could already buy anything they want are moving to a league most fans can’t even name the teams in. The official line is always “new challenge” or “building something historic.” The unofficial line is printed on the direct deposit slip.
Even comedy—comedy!—isn’t safe. Stand-up used to be the one place where you could say anything. Now some performers have to sign contracts promising they won’t say certain things, and they’re doing it anyway because the money is life-changing.
Sportswashing 101: How It Actually Works
Here’s the playbook, and it’s not exactly subtle:
- Buy something people love—golf, soccer, boxing, comedy, whatever.
- Pay absurd amounts so the biggest names can’t say no.
- Plaster those famous faces across global broadcasts.
- Suddenly the country hosting the event looks modern, fun, and open for business.
- Repeat until the old headlines fade into the background.
It’s not new—countries have been doing image rehab forever. But the scale right now is different. We’re talking tens of billions of dollars strategically deployed into the exact cultural pressure points that shape public opinion.
And it works. I’ve watched friends who used to rage about human rights violations suddenly shrug and say, “Eh, every country has problems.” That’s not organic opinion shift—that’s effective marketing.
The Defenses Are Getting Creative
The pushback from people cashing the checks has evolved into its own art form. Some highlights I’ve seen in real interviews (paraphrased to avoid direct quotes, because yikes):
- “I’m just an athlete/comedian/actor—why is the burden on me to fix geopolitics?”
- “America has done terrible things too—who are we to judge?”
- “If I don’t take the money, someone else will.”
- “I’m actually helping by engaging and encouraging reform!”
Sound familiar? Cartman was basically reading from the same script, just with more screaming and fewer PR handlers.
The moment your principles become negotiable, they were never principles—they were preferences.
That’s not me being preachy. That’s just… math. At some point the number gets so big that the excuse writes itself.
Why This Episode Hits Different
Plenty of shows do political satire. What makes South Park dangerous is they don’t pick a team. They’ll torch everyone in the same episode and somehow make both sides mad. There’s no comforting “at least my side is pure” escape hatch.
In this case, they’re not just mocking the people taking the money—they’re mocking all of us for letting it happen. For rolling our eyes and changing the channel. For caring more about March Madness brackets than where the sponsorship dollars come from.
It’s the same reason people still quote South Park episodes years later. Beneath the fart jokes and screaming children is a mirror. And right now that mirror is showing something pretty uncomfortable.
Where Do We Go From Here?
Nobody’s expecting professional athletes to become foreign policy experts overnight. And let’s be real—most of us would struggle to turn down life-altering money too. The question is whether we keep pretending there’s no cost.
Every time a major star signs on, it normalizes the arrangement a little more. Every time we watch the event without thinking twice, the strategy wins. That’s how soft power actually works—it doesn’t need to convince you it’s good. It just needs you to stop caring that it might not be.
South Park isn’t going to fix this. A cartoon can’t reverse decades of geopolitical strategy and economic incentive. But sometimes all it takes is one brutally honest voice to make you look at something you’ve been ignoring.
And if that voice happens to belong to a racist, manipulative fourth-grader who once tried to exterminate Jews with a giant robot? Well… maybe that’s exactly how absurd the whole situation has become.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. Pass the cranberry sauce—and maybe think twice about whose logo is on the bottle.
