"Well, folks...It's that time of year again. Time for yours truly to make for the fences. I must make a break for it before ending up a plucked remnant of my former self. A pitiful object. Dead and bloated. Stuffing in my butt. Tryptophan oozing from my stiff basted carcass. I have a family you know. Twelve little ones running around. Unaware that their dear old dad is about to become oven fodder. Hey...dad...fodder...kinda funny, no? I digress...
Just remember, Miles Standish, when your fat stubby little fingers are reaching for that drumstick, that so called drumstick is not a drumstick at all...IT'S A LEG!!!! Yes...a leg. Stop the genocide. Eat a duck. Why a duck? Why not?
Happy Thanksgiving, Folks."
Sunday, November 25
The Blue Comet
106 S. Easton Rd.