It’s me, your 12 pound turkey, with a very important message about Thanksgiving. I know a letter seems a little formal, especially since you are about to be wrist deep inside of me, but it’s pretty hard to get your attention any other way.
Remember the other day when you thought you heard a noise coming from your trunk on your way home from the grocery store? That was me, trying to get your attention.
I mean, the reason I was trying to get your attention in the car was because I heard the new Taylor Swift playing on the radio and I wanted you to Turn. It. Up.
Reputation is my jam… my cranberry jam (Thanksgiving joke, nailed it)!
But, that moment has passed, and I’m actually writing you today for an entirely different reason. I am here to tell you that you, and your whole selfie taking generation, are ruining Thanksgiving. Yeah, I said it, you’re #literally the worst.
First of all, the day is called Thanksgiving. It’s not Turkey Day, don’t call it The Turkey Massacre, it’s just plain old Thanksgiving, a day of giving thanks. Do you think the pilgrims gave it some cutesy name? Nevermind, bad example. Forget about the pilgrims… forget I ever mentioned them.
Secondly, how about we talk about Thanksgiving. Do you know when Thanksgiving is? I do, because it’s the same damn day every year. It’s the third Thursday in November – It’s not Friendsgiving, your Thanksgiving dress rehearsal. It’s not the Saturday before, or the Friday after, it’s that Thursday. My brethren and I don’t stick our actual necks, and sacrifice our lives, for some made up day. I am 12 pounds of THANKSGIVING goodness. Do not bring shame upon me and my family by wasting my delicious carcass on some other random day. Just don’t do it.
Thanksgiving Day is a day for turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes (yams are also acceptable as long as they are topped in marshmallows and/or smothered in brown sugar… because otherwise they are just yams and therefore yuck), and vegetables. Not lobster tails, not steak, not… tofurkey… Jesus Christ, tofurkey?! I just… as you people would say… I can’t even.
Basically, Thanksgiving is not the day to take your first run at making ceviche. Stick to the classics. There’s a reason why they’re classic.
The day is all about respect. Thanksgiving Day is my funeral, the table my funeral pyre, I just want to be surrounded by the trimmings I know and love… also, so help me god, if I so much as hear the word “tablescape” I will hop right up off my serving platter and giblet-slap you.
Lastly, remember when you get the urge to put on your fedora and go all mixologist, you’re drinking because you have to spend the day with your family. What does that say about the reason they’re drinking? Remember that when you ask your grandmother if she’d like to try some of your La Croix wine spritzer and she guzzles it down even though she thinks you’re pronouncing the Croix part wrong.
Your Thanksgiving Turkey
PS- the pie… the pie is a mother freaking afterthought. I am the star, and don’t you ever forget that.