Turkey Day, An American Tradition

27 11 2009

Stuff a large bird with bread and bake it. Make gravy from the bird’s organs, but call them giblets, because that sounds more lighthearted. Make enough gravy to fill a cruise ship. Serve the bird with massive side dishes of mashed potatoes, corn, and green bean casserole. Don’t forget the warm rolls slathered in non-hydrogenated margarine, because butter is unhealthy.

Eat until it hurts. There’s not enough room for salad, but you think you can squeeze in another spoonful of casserole. Sit on the couch with the remote control and flip through the channels. Surf the internet during commercials. While the TV is blaring in the background, find something more interesting to watch on Hulu. Watch The Biggest Loser and be thankful that you’re not 400 pounds yet. Belch. Fart. You discover that there’s room for dessert. There’s a starving Ethiopian living in your left leg. 

Take notes on Black Friday deals. You might not even have to leave your chair this year. This delights you.  Pull up another window on your screen. You watch a YouTube video about the 33 year old man who died in his recliner because he was morbidly obese. You’re thankful that you can get out of the chair with the greatest of ease. You unbutton your pants to let the turkey breathe in your belly.

This year you’re hoping to skip the smack down in the toy aisle over Twilight Dolls and Zhuzhu pets. Last year you camped out in the parking lot in a long line. Once you got into the store, some large black woman lost her wig to a white bitch.  There was hair pulling and blood.

 It’s important. You will be sacrificing your comfort to obtain family and friends  items that they need to have by December 25. So you can exchange gifts between mouthfuls of ham and chocolate truffles. Aunt Doris would have died without The Clapper last year. And the Chia Pet that she gave you—well, you thanked her profusely and discreetly placed it on the Goodwill pile when you got home.




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