Of course my feathers are ruffled. I’ve been trying to figure out how many coconuts a turkey could carry, if it was a wild turkey and didn’t come from the Austin-Nichols company. Still, tragedy tomorrow ... comedy, comedy, comedy, tonight.
Laden or unladen, eventually it all adds up, right? Right, Tom? Right, Jed? Or does this whole enterprise plummet like poor Harold? Must we play chicken with the Fates? Are we simply seduced by the glamor?
“As God is my witness ... I thought turkeys could fly ...”
Happy Thanksgiving!