No Thanks to You

Pardoned Turkey Won’t
Go to Disneyland This Year

Pardon if we may say so, but if you’re a turkey, this is the best time of the year to skip town. Chances are, though, you won’t even know it’s coming and the next thing you’ll see, will also be your last: the butcher’s knife. After all, you are a turkey.
This is the week that you should consider anyone as your mortal enemy. Unless, of course, they’re vegetarians and love their tofurkey. But you can’t tell that friendly minority from the hordes of history-soaked, famish-motivated, family tradition-disposed folks who’ll be roaming the streets, looking for that perfect bird. And that could be as well you.
But we don’t mean to be blunt or try to hurt your feelings, although if you were not a turkey, you’d know very well that people who start their sentences with that, absolutely mean to be iron-hammer blunt and, for one reason or another, stand to gain a lot from hurting your feelings.
Still, there’s at least one turkey that’s always lucky this time of the year. The one that’s pardoned by the president (although, as all turkeys, it hasn’t committed any crime to begin with, to be pardoned, but who’s keeping record?). That is a lucky bastard, wouldn’t you agree?
In fact, such a moon-assed creature is so lucky that it not only has its life spared personally by the Commander in Chief, but goes on to be honored as the Grand Marshall of the official Thanksgiving Parade and, since 2005, to live comfortably the rest of its days at a Disney park. Can you imagine? Of course not, you’re just a silly bird who probably thinks that the extra portions they’ve been serving you the last couple of weeks is just some kind of reward purely for your good looks.
Well, you shouldn’t feel so bad after all. It turns out that Disney won’t host those free-loaders anymore. But don’t get any ideas, they’ll still be given the best there is. As for you, better get yourself some brochures full of color pictures because that’s pretty much as close you’ll ever be from the land of Donald.
Not to rub it in, but in case you’re curious, the whole presidential pardon thing started in 1947. In recent years, besides the official turkey, he also pardons his understudy which, as we speak, must be learning his lines in case the First Bird has a stroke or something.
Five years ago, Disney stepped in and enrolled the bird for their 50th year anniversary celebration. They called it the Happiest Turkey on Earth, then, and for a while, it really seemed so. A motorcade after the ceremony would take both birds on first-class flights to Disney parks. This year, instead, their flight is booked to George Washington’s Mount Vernon Estates and Gardens in Virginia. But who are we kidding? you, of all birds, couldn’t care less about all that, anyway.
What you should be thinking about, and seriously, is your own current situation. We hate to say it (another one of those intros that, whoever is saying, really means exactly the opposite), but maybe it’s time to come up with a Plan B, perhaps a way out, to feign illness, whatever. Because the butcher, my friend, is right around the corner.
The way we see it, if you’re healthy, of a certain age, not too old and no spring chicken either (sorry, we couldn’t help it), good looking, you know, a catch, you are, dearest avian, a strong candidate for dinner. We’ll spare you the gory details but let’s just say that you wouldn’t want to pay much attention to Disney’s new campaign, “Let the Memories Begin.” Yeah, right. We agree, those folks have no heart.
But like Disney, this is when we leave you on your own, pal. Really, there’s nothing else we can tell you but wish you the best of luck. We should feel guilty about all that but we don’t. As a matter of fact, we too plan on attending a big Thanksgiving dinner and, although we don’t personally like turkey meat, and thanks but no thanks for the tofurkey either, we know a lot of people who can’t have enough of it.
We hope it won’t happen to you, of course. We just can’t promise you that we’ll be saying anything out loud against the tradition on fear we may lose our own seat at the table. But inside, we’ll be thinking about you. Really. Honest to god. Let the memories begin.

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