Lol! This one is right up there with Doc Severinsen’s joke, my ex-wife is stuffing her turkey with money.
After seemingless endless appeals Turk-Kay has no more legal options to avoid execution. He has allowed last rites to be administered by a priest, a large and hearty last meal and pre-execution grief counseling.
“It’s society that’s at fault, not me” he complains “How can they claim to know right from wrong? How come they get to set those standards? Who’s to determine what a standard is? By what value?”
After a long bath in special sauces and spices Turk-Kay is set to be broiled for man hours...
No need to say grace since you really are not thankful anyway.
I will drink no wine before its time.
1. Nominate a RINO for President...
2. The End
LOL, I pretty much had this as a real life experience.
The kid was in college, in her first off campus place. I think she had to work or something, so hubby (who is the cook in the family) and I said we’d come down and cook the dinner at her place.
Mr. Gourmet decrees we must have all fresh veggies, etc. He brines the turkey, it’s all going to be pretty fancy-schmacy.
We get down there, and the college girls have very few supplies and NO pot-holders at all.
I’m obsessed with making radish roses, which I fail at miserably.
Hubby drinks 3 bottles of wine watching the thanksgiving day parade and I end up cooking the dinner, with no pot holders, radish roses, or talent at all.
But it was all fine in the end. Except for the part where hubby couldn’t find his turkey on his plate, but we helped him and that was OK too!
Happy Thanksgiving to all here and may you have pot holders when needed!
Well, I’m almost 60 and I cooked a turkey once when I was 18. I have to cook one this year...bring on the wine.
When I was growing up on a farm in Iowa, the standard rule concerning edible livestock was that any critter that has a name is safe from becoming Sunday dinner.
My sister and I had a pet turkey named “Tom” (how original...hey, we were kids) that we raised from a ‘chick’ and he was imprinted with the image of us being his mom.
He followed us around constantly like a spare shadow and always came out to meet us, getting off the school bus each afternoon. He’d come out and fan out his feathers and strut around a bit. It was his main, possibly only, talent.
In early November, word leaked out to us that he was going to be the main course for Thanksgiving dinner. The old rule had been over-ridden and Tom was about to be “axed” literally.
Come the day before Thanksgiving, we all dreaded what was about to happen and nobody would volunteer to be his executioner. Just thinking about it spread through the family to where we were all nearly in tears.
Happy ending:
We couldn’t bear to kill Tom for dinner, so we ate the dog.
Hic....
How to prepare a turkey: sit him down and say, “I have some really bad news for you...”
Here’s a recipe for fruitcake according to Robert D. Raeford on the Johnboy and Billy Big Show. (Laugh alert)
Is that necessary? Don't some of them come with little bags of stuffing already inside?
Thaw, dammit, thaw!!!!
ping