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My Way

My Way

Wishing you an un-PC Thanksgiving

November 24, 2010 - Thanksgiving ranks as one of my favorite holidays because it's one of the most politically incorrect, particularly in my household.

The magic begins with the traditional parade of Bloody Marys made from scratch.

Honestly, is there anything better than drinking in the morning while wearing your bathrobe and watching large balloons float down Woodward Avenue?

I think not.

Soon it's time to pop the old turkey in the oven. This will be third consecutive Thanksgiving in which a wild turkey that I shot will be served.

If my wife didn't mind, I'd probably wear the bird's 11-inch beard to the dinner table.

I won't do it because she does mind and marriage is all about compromise. That's why I don't wear my antlers whenever I grill up venison backstraps.

As much as it will probably upset the pale and sickly-looking vegans and vegetarians out there, there is no "Tofurky" (gross!) served in my house. No, sir.

Life's too short to not eat dead animals. It's not my fault they're so delicious, juicy and tender. Blame nature.

The bird on my table is a 100 percent, all-natural turkey that I killed with my trusty 12-gauge Remington Model 870 Wingmaster shotgun.

I know it upsets many of you Lefties out there that average citizens are still allowed to own guns, so it gives me extra pleasure to make my favorite firearm part of my holiday celebration.

Thanksgiving is a uniquely American holiday and what's America without guns? It was the gun that won our freedom, fed our families, tamed the frontier and defended our homes.

Once the turkey and myriad of side dishes are done, it's time to eat and indulge in my favorite of the Seven Deadly Sins gluttony.

Yes, I know I should be wringing my hands over Third World poverty or fretting about the size of my carbon footprint or worrying if my light bulbs are using too much electricity.

But I'm not doing any of that because I've put myself into a gravy-induced coma so as not to feel the pain of my bloated stomach straining against my pants, which must have somehow shrunk in the wash again.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Pass the Scotch and Rolaids.

CJ Carnacchio is editor for The Oxford Leader. He lives in the Village of Oxford with his wife Connie and daughter Larissa. When he's not busy working on the newspaper, he enjoys cigars/pipes, Martinis/Scotch, hunting and fishing.
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