I may blog a little from the family homestead in Jersey, but it won't be the usual weekend rant-a-thon, that's for sure. Happy Thanksgiving, folks! And to my fine feathered friends from the genus Meleagris and species gallopavo, all I can say is that today is a good day to die (or, in Klingon: Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam).
Actually, my crazy family doesn't eat turkey on this most gluttonous of American holidays - we eat pork roast with baked macaroni and cheese, and have done so for as long as I can remember, much to the consternation of my schoolmates and neighbors. This revelation is still good for a surprise, for instance today when I shocked my boss with tomorrow's holiday menu chez Bruno, though I wonder if we won't get ourselves reported to the Department of Homeland Security these days for not cooking up a bird like the rest of "Merica". Or using the word chez, for that matter!
Well at least one less turkey will meet its maker this long weekend thanks to our heterodox eating habits; and as for the pig, let's just say we all have to go sometime, and leave it at that.
Safe travels, all. I'll see you in December!
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