And so, once again, the feast of gratitude for the gifts of Providence -- profiteroles, procreation, Prokofiev, the profession of faith, the prospect of progress, procrastination, Proverbs, and Providence (Rhode Island ) itself, I was there last week, a very snazzy town -- and also for tragic mistakes you might’ve made and did not and here you are, basically OK , with a slab of turkey and cranberry and a gravy lake in your mashed potato . It’s a good place to be.
Of course I am sorry about those millions of turkeys, the miserable lives they led, imprisoned, deprived of basic rights, and I am sorry about the undocumented workers who had to slaughter and clean them at minimum wages so that our young people would be free to post on Facebook their grievances against the world, but face it: Those turkeys had reached their intellectual peak and were not going to have great careers and it was merciful to kill them and not put them into nursing homes to wind up on life support.