Fowl really knocked it out of the park this week in the U S of A. Of course you’ve got your perennial MVPs —good ol’ mister and missus Turkey, hands down, 149 years running. Tom and Tammy Turkey. Shoo-ins. Tom and Tammy really put the team on their backs this week, true to form. Stuck their saggy little red white and blue necks out there and welcomed the hatchet. Way to go Tom and TammyTurkey. But you’ve also got your other fowl. You’ve got your duck, your goose, your quail and you’ve got your pheasant. You’ve got your ruffed grouse. You’ve got your Cornish game hen. If you’re an American who celebrated Thanksgiving in a central American rainforest, you’ve got your quetzal. You’ve got your avian fatality triple crown winner, the turducken. Tom and Tammy put up big numbers but the whole squad played like a team this Thanksgiving, and for that we give thanks. Hats off, fowl.
D: Alcoholics Anonymous
No doubt about it, AA saves livers and families. In church basements and public libraries across the country, supportive groups of men and women come together to tackle the extraordinary challenges associated with overcoming addiction. AA does noble and indispensable work, and I owe its members a deep thank you for extending and improving the lives of a number of my relatives. But I’m also a little pissed at AA. They really fucked up my Thanksgiving. I imagine they fucked up Thanksgivings nationwide. Used to be I could sit down, glut myself on turkey and taters, then settle in and gleefully watch the whole scene devolve into chaos. The old corporate patriarchs would suck down whiskey sours ‘til they were red in the face while the mid-life-crisis vegetarians chugged craft IPAs, then somebody’d say “capitalist” and all hell would break loose. Delicious bedlam. Not so any more. Now it’s ginger ale and pomegranate juice and generally a dang snooze. And these days they’re all drinking vicariously through me — “Have another Lee!” — so I gotta guzzle and yell on behalf of a whole bloodline. It’s exhausting and my head hurts. AA, please be more considerate.
FAIL: Harvard, naturally.
I would like to take this opportunity to invite the sweaty little grundle of a Cambridge bouncer who seized my fake ID to taste my anus. Listen, bro. Just give it back to me. I didn’t even really want to gain ENTRANCE to club Hong Schlong because it was probably full of prissy little Harvard skeazers ANYhoo! I’m a Toads man myself, always have been. Speaking of Harvard skeazers, I would like to invite all of those buttoned-up cake eaters to commune with my poop smell alongside the bouncer. Why you gotta go slamming doors in my face? Why you gotta go kicking friendly Yale dudes out of your lame ‘Vard parties? I’m not offended, I’m just cold. It’s freezing in your godforsaken town and I’m simply tryna warm my buns. I don’t even want your beer. That’s not true… can I please have your beer because some grundle of a bouncer just took my ID and I needs to get my drink on. Kindly suck upon it, Harvard.