The Great Thanksgiving Lie

"I Like Left-Over Turkey"

As I write this, it is twenty minutes prior to the half-hour before the afternoon of Thanksgiving Eve. Tomorrow is a day for overindulgence. Like most Americans, I will eat too much, take a nap and watch a ton of football. I will gather with the same people as last year and the year before that and the year before that. I like it that way. Everything will be just right. My greatest pleasure will come later in the day.

Somewhere along the way we will deep fry a few smaller turkeys and someone will say how much they like leftovers. (some recipes) Suddenly, as if on cue, the trap has sprung. It tastes as sugary-sweet to me as that first bite of yams and marshmallows. That comment is my opportunity to launch into my usual rant. I like to expose the lie.

My controversial proposition is that nobody really wants left-over turkey, they just think they do. I could only find a few people who agreed with me. God have mercy on any newcomer that might suggest otherwise. My unsuspecting victim will predictably defend the common belief and say something like, “I have always liked left over turkey sandwiches.” Then I circle my prey and move in for the kill. He is “my” turkey for the day.

I probe, “Have you ever cooked a turkey and then put it in the frig for a couple of days so that it could age a bit, like a side of beef, before you ate it?” It is at this time that the victim realizes he is waist-deep in some sort of Turkey-day quicksand. As he attempts to gather his day-old thoughts I notice his enlarged eyes nearly pleading for mercy.

It is at that moment that my dupe becomes a tasty side dish to me: his primary purpose is to appease my insatiable argumentative appetite. Before he gets a chance to gather his giblets, I hit him with my cranberry clincher, “Have you ever gone to a restaurant and told them you don’t want today’s fresh turkey, and to bring you yesterday’s left-over turkey instead?” I feel so naughty because it is woefully unfair to lure those of inferior intellect into my menacing trap. Ha, ha, ha, ha. I know the answer to my cleverly worded question and the dressing-headed victim knows that I know he is my slice of pumpkin pie. Yum!

Naturally, he has never done anything to seek out left-over turkey. The truth of the matter is it takes a lot of work to prepare a thanksgiving feast and after it is over there is a natural desire to kick back. Since there is a pile of the dead bird hanging around and there is a carcass that can be converted into some turkey noodle soup or a casserole, it just makes sense to use it. In some families they eat leftover turkey for nearly a week. By then, they must hate it. So, I contend that we tolerate left-over turkey but we don’t like it enough to pursue it.

If you buy into my basic point I suggest from now on you buy 3 or 4 small turkeys (say 10-12 pounds or so) when they are on sale and freeze them. Then when you bake a turkey invite a friend over and finish it off in one meal or two. That way you won’t tire of it and you will enjoy fresh turkey rather than that day-old, leftover, dried out, old-hat, I wish I wouldn’t have bought this monster fowl kind of turkey. I rest my case.

ps. It was Bob

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Is He Really Talking About Peeing?

Peeing in a cup is an abnormal experience, especially for men.

When males have a “full tank” there is a lot of pressure in there and it is difficult to turn the faucet on and off at will. If you want some medical evidence go here. Trying to gracefully dispense a half-ounce of fluid from a pressure-packed human spigot into a shot glass-sized paper cup is comparable to asking a fireman to hook up his hose to the fire hydrant and dribble the precise amount of water onto your prize-winning tulips: You’re asking for a miracle.

Toilet seat splatter is nothing compared to the potential disaster of peeing for a physical. One time I really screwed it up. The sinister nurse gave me two test tubes and a tiny cup, to fill. What a challenge! She must have known that she did not provide a holder for the test tubes so they had to be capped and laid on their sides after each one was filled.

That does not seem particularly difficult until you realize that it takes at least four hands to perform the basic procedure: The first hand has to hold two pair of pants and a zipper or the entire work area can get messy; the second hand needs to attend the dispenser itself, which is no simple task in that situation; the third hand is for holding the test tubes; and the fourth hand is for putting the caps on the little containers after they are filled. As I took the collection of receptacles, I was disappointed to realize nobody was going to lend me a hand.

First, I tried to empty my reservoir a bit to relieve some of the pressure, but I didn’t want to run out of fluid so a confusing game of stop and start ensued. Drip, squirt, dibble, splash, squeeze! Then the real fun began.

The next thing to do was figure out which hand was going to do what. Since there were so many jobs to do, and only two hands to perform them all, there were several possibilities; but, none of them makes sense unless you happen to be a juggler. Eventually, a half-baked strategy was adopted. Then it was time to assume “the position.”

I stood there, nearly-straddling a porcelain God, in an attempt to prevent any overflow from flooding the floor and creating yet another embarrassing problem. I thought about magicians who tell us that the hand is faster than the eye, and I was hoping they are correct. I summoned all of the concentration I could generate and began the impractical mission.

Once the process was underway, it was nearly impossible to dispense the proper quantity of liquid into the shot glass-sized cup. If you release the pressure too suddenly, your cup might runneth over and produce a big mess. On the other hand, it is equally difficult for men to ooze on demand, unless they have a prostate problem, but that is a different matter.

I grabbed one of the test tubes and filled it completely; too completely. Just then I thought I heard giggling out in the hall. I wondered if I was the subject of one of those TV shows that takes pleasure in catching people off guard.

Somehow, I eventually accomplished the goal, but I “had to” wash my hands and clean off that first test tube. I examined my clothes, and all was well, so I handed the containers to the nurse. I wanted to wash my hands again. I wondered how often she washes hers.

I did learn one important lesson from all of this: The next time I have to perform this unseemly ritual, I will take a feminine approach and sit down.

Contrary to what you might think, I tell you all of this for a reason. Prior to today, I would have never guessed that I would have a weirder story about peeing than the one I just shared. But today my wife and I actually attended a joint-venture peeing party…with somebody else.

Our job was to observe our third partner while she was in the act and upon the predetermined signal we converged on our victim. I held her still and Patty made her pee…you guessed it in a cup.

You see we have just adopted a beautiful Golden Lab/Golden Retriever mix named Gracie. We took the 3-year old young lady to the vet to make certain that there are no heart worms or other hidden problems. The first thing the vet needed was a urine sample.

So there we were, the three of us: A golden dog on a very short leash, a fat old dude following her around the yard and the old dude’s favorite female…cup in hand, poised and ready. Our little exercise would have won the grand prize on America’s Funniest Home Video. Fortunately, we didn’t have to wait long. The unsuspecting canine assumed the position and Patty seized the opportunity.

A couple hours later all of the necessary samples were delivered to the vet and it appears a new phase in our lives has begun. More about Gracie to follow.

Comments?

WHEN I WAS A KID

WHEN I WAS A KID, I hated it when adults began any sentence by saying, “When I was a kid…” Another adult comment which I disliked was, “I remember you when you were just this big.” I wanted to say something back to them like, “Yeah, well I remember you when you were not so damn fat” but, I didn’t dare say anything like that. I guess I just grunted in defeat. Now, I fall into the same traps. I see my niece and nephews every few months and they seem to grow like weeds. I have to bite my tongue.

WHEN I WAS A KID, I remember the adults telling me about the holidays when they were kids. Halloween was particularly interesting. My step-dad told us that people who were disliked by the kids were especially vulnerable. The year was around 1927. The adults could get in the proverbial dog house if they were mean throughout the year or just because they failed to give away popcorn balls or candy apples or other sufficient treats for the holidays. Apparently, in those days, the kids took the “Trick” part of “Trick or Treat” much more seriously. It was a form of blackmail.

Translated, it would be, “Give us something good or you will be punished.” And they meant it. If the adults failed the little goblins they were subjected to pranks such as having their home TP’d or their windows soaped (write on them with bars of soap). But my step-father and his friends had even worse plans for the people who deserved a more severe “punishment”. He tells me that one time they pushed over a cranky old man when he was in his outhouse and on several occasions they would gather up some dog poop (or their own) and put it in a paper sack. Then they would sneak up on their victim’s porch and light the bag on fire and ring the doorbell and run away. Apparently the victim would open the door, see the fire and stomp on the bag to put it out. My step-dad laughed so hard when he told us the story I thought he was going to cry.

WHEN I WAS A KID, we had a different version of Halloween. Outhouses had all been replaced by indoor plumbing and packaged candy replaced home-made popcorn balls and candy apples. We were less interested in “Tricks” and more interested in “Treats”; lots and lots of treats. After school we ran home and turned our pillow cases into large storage sacks. We started banging on doors by about 5:30. The object was to get to as many as houses as we could before people turned their lights out. We worked our way from our lower-middle class neighborhood toward the better neighborhoods that were a mile or so away. The object was to get to about two-hundred homes. On the way back we remembered the homes that had the better treats and we hit them again. We stayed out until about 10:00 hitting any house which still had a porch light on.

WHEN I WAS A KID, television was just getting popular and every year some kook in some faraway place would do something stupid like put razor blades in apples or poison in some home-made cookies. The media loved the stories because they created ratings and they scared the hell out of overprotective and overreacting mothers. Halloween morphed once more, this time for the worst.

WHEN I WAS A KID, the best holidays for kids (4th of July, Halloween, field day)were more fun than they are now. All of the mischief is out of Halloween and firecrackers are out of the 4th of July, and ribbons don't mean anything any longer. We might as well take the kid out of the kids.

WHEN I WAS A KID Halloween wasn't so sterile, but it is still one of my favorite holidays and just because the kids have to behave themselves is no reason for me to completely behave myself. See my previous article for some of the traditions that we have adopted.

If you would like to look up some

audio stories about Halloween or other topics click here.

Don’t be afraid to tell a few ghost stories.

Haunted house stories can be found here.

don't be AFRAID to BOO for us

Trick or Treat

I don’t know about you, but I get a kick out of Halloween. We usually get our first visitors at sundown and the action is slow but steady until about 9:00 p.m. By the end of the evening, we enjoy the company of approximately one-hundred of the little monsters.

I answer the door about 80% of the time and Patty catches the remainder. I usually like to measure the age of the youngsters and engage them in some appropriate banter or prank for their age. I basically just encourage the first-timers by telling them how cute they look.

For the kids that are about 6-7 I know that they have been out on Halloween a few times so I just try to catch them off-guard. I tell them that at our home they have to give me candy. I get some good responses.

I have a special prank for the next older group, say ages 7-9. It is more effective as the evening progresses a bit. Somewhere around 8:00, I get out a can of tuna fish and a raw onion. I tell the kids I am out of candy and these are the only things I have left; then, I ask them which they prefer. One kid said in a disappointed voice, “Ahh, I guess I’ll just take the tuna fish.”

A few times each evening, I fold up two bucks and hide it in my hand behind the onion. Then I ask a couple of older kids if they would rather have candy or the onion. Naturally they almost always pick the candy but there have been two times when a smart-alecky teenager picked the onion and he was rewarded with the two-bucks as well. I only employ this gag a few times an evening because the youngsters are sharp enough to come back again and again if they figure out what is going on.

This year I plan on getting some catsup, plus an old shirt and a large knife. I will soak the front of the shirt in catsup (or do you prefer Ketchup?) and break the blade off of the knife. Then I will open the door and hold the knife to my stomach as if I have been stabbed and then beg for mercy. This will probably be best suited to the girls ages 6-10.

I am also considering throwing a few strands of TP in one of my own trees and then blame select young kids for it.

The next time I can get somebody to help me I would like to hide behind the bushes with a chain saw and when the victims are busy at the front door and distracted I will let out a menacing laugh and start the chainsaw (you can remove the chain, but the kids don’t need to know that) then I will act as if I am going to attack them.

In preparation for this article I did a little research to see what pranks other people like. Quite honestly, I am surprised how many people think vandalism is funny. I guess those are the people who laugh when somebody trips a blind person.

Anyway, there were some fascinating ideas and stories that I enjoyed reading.

A common idea has several variations. You dress up as a really fat scarecrow or some other character and take a seat near your front door with a full bowl of candy in your lap. Stay motionless so you look like a decoration. When the goblins come to the door they are tempted to take all of the candy but just as they reach for the bowl you yell and jump out at them and teach them a lesson.

Dress up as a hospital patient and answer the door screaming things like “I didn’t do it, or I only killed one of them.”

These folks have a few ideas. Here is a variation of one of them. Make several home-made headstones and place them in the yard as if it is a cemetery. Make a couple of dummies and dress up like a corpse. Then lay the dummies near the headsotnes and you lay very still on the ground near one that is close to your front door. When a goblin gets too close jump up and scare the dickens out of them.

The Prank Institute has quite a few. Here is their main site:

For a cool three step program to draw them in, divert their attention and then scare the bedickens out of them click here.

One of the best stops for prank stories is at ZUG They even had a contest and here are the Top 5 winners. These are pretty good.

If you would like to send some FREE e-Halloween Cards just visit these guys.

It seems like there are all sorts of odd things people do on pumpkin day. If you cannot think of anything original, you might just try cutting off your own toes and giving them away as surprise treats. That ought to keep the neighborhood buzzing for a while.

What are your favorite memories?

Homer's Wisdom - Homer Simpson that is

Okay it is time for a change of pace. Here are some of my favorite quotes by the amusing three-haired Homer, Courtesy http://www.thesimpsonsquotes.com/

I'm going to the back seat of my car, with the woman I love, and I won't be back for ten minutes!

D'oh!

[Meeting Aliens] Please don't eat me! I have a wife and kids. Eat them!
　
It's true, I'm a Rageaholic...I just can't live without Rageahol!

I've gone back in time to when dinosaurs weren't just confined to zoos.

The problem in the world today is communication. Too much communication.

Oh sure. Even communism works. In theory.

Donuts: Is there anything they can't do?

If a gun is good enough to protect something as important as a bar, then its good enough to protect my family.

It's not easy to juggle a pregnant wife and a troubled child, but somehow I managed to fit in eight hours of TV a day.

it takes two to lie. One to lie and one to listen.

Oh, so they have internet on computers now!

Facts are meaningless. You could use facts to prove anything that's even remotely true!

I saw a movie about a bus that had to speed around a city, keeping its speed over fifty and if its speed dropped, it would explode! I think it was called ... "The Bus That Couldn’t Slow Down."

Marge; "Homer, do you know why I married you?"
Homer: "Cause I knocked you up?"

How is education supposed to make me feel smarter? Besides, every time I learn something new, it pushes some old stuff out of my brain.
　
Here's to alcohol, the cause of—and solution to—all life's problems

Son, a woman is like a beer. They smell good, they look good, you'd step over your own mother just to get one! But you can't stop at one. You wanna drink another woman!

Okay Marge, its your child against my child. The winner will be showered with praise. The loser will be taunted and booed until my throat is sore.

If The Flintstones has taught us anything, it's that pelicans can be used to mix cement.

Operator! Give me the number for 911!

Trying is the first step on the road to failure

To Bart: Weaseling out of things is important to learn. It's what separates us from the animals ... except the weasel.

Homer no function beer well without.

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