I had a surprisingly politics-free Thanksgiving in rural Alabama with family. Imagine a peaceful 1850 with family phone plans.
In the past there had been occasional guests who couldn't handle their light beer and would start spouting Hannity by memory. They were guests, so rather than engage with them I would just look at them, sort of like you do when you walk too close to one of those joke "talking mounted trout" things.
Another year, two elders started discussing conversion therapy next to my cousin and his friend, who both zipped on over to our table for the meal. The two older folks probably had no idea anybody in the building was gay.
Nothing much this year, unless I can count an incident at a wedding with a somewhat jackassian fellow who was all jollied up from day drinking. He had brought up an old little car I still have, in the vein of why wouldn't everybody drive a Big Trook. I told him I had rammed it into a politician's truck in Mexico, but he wasn't a popular politician so the onlookers were sticking up for me. Dude says "He Musta Been Dimmacrat If Nobody Liked Him Hyuh Huh," so you see, it wasn't really any kind of argument, just a gentleman showing his brilliance.
This same dude, years earlier, had saved my sister's dog from being torn to shreds by some Squidbilly's Pit Bull, by beating the offending beast on the head with a plank while it was going T-Rex. So, a valued Ally, but maybe not the one to pick on Mexican Political Trivia Night.