Thanksgiving

As a child I thought all turkeys came from the country, Turkey. Boy, did they take the wrong boat and me, too!

We consume, according to the USDA records, 45 million turkeys on Thanksgiving Day. And according to “Dancing with the Stars” judge, Bruno Tonioli, the dance, the turkey trot, was indeed patterned after the short jerky steps a turkey takes. They’d be taking some long steps if they knew they would end up on somebody’s table being stabbed by a knife and having their legs ripped off by eager youngsters.

In school they taught us the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock, chowed down on turkey, and invited the Indians to dine with them. All these FACTS are somewhat disputed by modern day history books. Ah, shucks another one bites the dust.

And what about the beautifully plumed turkeys in all the idealistic Thanksgiving pictures, where are they? Personally besides the frozen turkeys with the pop-up timers in the grocery store, or the wild turkeys standing beside Highway 83, I have never seen a turkey.

Jasper Countians be forewarned don’t be ruffling any turkey feathers this Thanksgiving or that whole gang of cathartes auras, turkey buzzards, perched on the Monticello Water Tower will swoop down on you and make you wish you had not gobbled about anything.
How to cook a turkey by a third grader: first, you buy a 50 pound turkey at the store, drive it home, put it in the stove for two days and when it “pops,” its time to eat mashed potatoes.

YUM LET’S EAT