A Jammin' Thanksgiving

Ok, I give up. Even though I am an Obama skeptic,I can't help but give thanks that for the first time since September 11, 2001 the country is jammin' together---and this time we are not barreling down the turnpikes and highways of America, flags flapping in the wind, screaming like fucking bangees, with Death to Allah on our minds.

On Thursday, Americans will gather together to eat turkey, watch the parade, suffer through the Detroit Lions, and give thanks that the stock market is closed. And just like credit cards will be smokin' on Black Friday, for the time being we will not worry about all the unbelievable government plans to further uber- leverage an already massively leveraged nation, that has gotten in trouble because it is so outrageously leveraged.

Of course, on the lead up to this special day, there has been some of the usual crap.

In Claremont, California the police were called in when protesters descended on the Condit Elementary School to bully some kindergartens who were dressed in construction paper pilgrim and Indian outfits.

And the Cheetah Girls, the unfortunately named Disney Girl band, of which Adrienne Bailon is a member, have been tossed from the Macy's Day Parade, thanks to the work of Jonathan Jaxson, possibly the worst publicist in music industry history. In an effort to sexify his client's image a report was released advising that Miss Bailon's laptop, containing some compromising images, had been stolen.

Then lo and behold a pic of Adrienne's butt, which could easily be confused with the posterior of her boyfriend's sister Kim Kardashion, appeared on the Internet. Macy's didn't find this to be very family-friendly, even if it was just a phony publicity stunt.

This week we were all treated to Sarah Palin starring in a turkey snuff flick. While the governor was pardoning one bird, an enthusiastic poultry butcher, was in the background slicing the throat of the lucky bird's brother.

While executive turkey clemency is disturbingly creepy, the whole thing is less than appetizing:



I don't know, despite being a redneck libertarian tomboy I'm becoming a softie. This year I think I may do Thanksgiving at Hooters (although I find short shorts over pantyhose to be extraordinarily weird)...

or perhaps that quaint Scottish inn-- The Tilted Kilt.

In either of these establishments “pass the breast” has nothing to do with dead bird flesh.


Although I must say the folks that run Hooters may be the biggest boobs in the world. Always looking for a way to keep the T and A in PETA, a while back the animal rights organization wanted to have a private party at a Manhattan Hooters, where veggie buffalo wings would be the main course. But the Hooter suits felt it was too politically charged. It was their loss since Pamela Anderson, who makes most of the Hooter waitresses look underdeveloped, was scheduled to attend.

Anyway, just like I prefer Christmas Eve over the actual day, Thanksgiving Eve is the day I rock.

I am hoping that the Wild Turkey American Honey Girls will be at one of my hangouts, handing out samples of the appropriate beverage of the day.

Tempe Marketplace will light up a 60-foot tree and have an artificial snowfall on Wednesday. I don't know if I will make that, but I do know I will not be treating myself to the nation's most celebrated celesbian cheeseball—the return of Rosie O'Donnell to network TV.

And that means I will have to stay away from the lesbian bars, since all the girls will be yacking that one up.

Guess I'll have to hook up with some guy pals and take in the pole dancers.

Oh wait, that chick is one of the zGirl Club barflys.

Have a Jammin' Thanksgiving.