The Great Turkey Shoot Of 1620

Bethel Church

Time for a little history lesson and this being a holiday weekend lets talk turkey.

The year was 1620. The American Revolution was still many years away, but a little known piece of American history was about to unfold.

America was young then and the Thanksgiving holiday had yet to be recognized. However, such was not the case for the Native American Turkey. Thanks to a group of early American paparazzi, they WERE recognized.

The reason for their recognition may have had a little something to do with bullseyes being pinned to their backs by some early American hoodlums called… The Pilgrims.

Nevertheless, we must remember that Pin the Tale on the Donkey was nearly a century away from being legalized in America… and donkeys were in short supply. So, naturally, what other prank could a young misguided Pilgrim play on someone—or on some turkey?

It also should be noted that the The Pilgrim Gang (as they later came to be called) carried boom boom sticks. Native Americans called them Blunderbusses, but they had a better command of the new American-English language—having been here longer.

Now these young Pilgrim hoodlums became so good with there boom boom sticks that they were actually able to hit the broad side of a barn—from only two-feet away.

And without pulling the triggers!

Seeing as they were now wearing bullseyes this became something of a grave concern for the turkeys.

Above The Law

So one day as the turkeys were gathering on Lexington Green, black coated Pilgrims took aim and fired thier boom boom sticks into a crowd of turkeys.

Apparently, the men in black figured out what the triggers were for—and then quickly adopted The Second Amendment.

When all was said and done half a dozen turkeys had fallen—and couldn’t get up.

A warning went out far and wide “The black coats are coming, the black coats are coming!” because turkeys are known for repeating themselves—you know… gobble, gobble.

That’s when the turkeys turned to a young turkey—one Tom by name—to lead them in a revolt.

The turkeys then followed Tom the Turkey up a hill where he began to gobble, gobble—in turkey of course…

“I regret that I have but one life to give!”

Well, the next thing you know those trigger happy black coats fired on Tom the Turkey, and there he gave that one life because turkeys (unlike cats) only have but one life to give.

Unfortunately, in the process of gobble gobbling… he also gave away the position of all the other turkeys!

Today we still remember The Great Turkey shoot of 1620 and the turkeys who gave their lives—albeit… involuntary.

And so that is why we share our tables with their offspring when we gather to eat on the last Thursday of every November. Oh… and we celebrate and watch football too. But… ALL IN THEIR MEMORY!

Well, that, and it beats the hell out of eating meatloaf again.

So, eat up, and Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Clipart Library

 

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A New Original Holiday Tale And Its—ALMOST Thrilling Final

Free Clipart

Welcome to Part Two of a new original holiday classic that everyone will be talking about… down at the hobo encampment near the railroad tracks.

“Baxter the Snowman and that Fateful Dance with those Darn Irresponsible Sugarplum Fairies.”

It’s written by a new, but well established, up and coming, utterly BRILLIANT author—who looks remarkably like… well… ME.

Part One of the story introduced us to, Baxter, a partially melted snowman who is living (if you can call it that) on the outskirts of the Egyptian Desert.

One Christmas Eve he encounters three Sugarplum Fairies who are anything but sugar and spice and everything nice.

They ask Baxter to help them in funding their quest to find “The Sacred Snowball of Azhar Malik” and in return, they promised him a portion of the fabled snowball to replace his current languidly melting lower torso.

All Roads Lead To The Kitchen

As you may recall, the Sacred Snowball is supposedly made of Folgers Instant Crystals, “They’re magically delicious and melt in your coffee… NOT IN YOUR SAND.”

We pick up our story with the ANIMATED Tim Burton now narrating—without having to croon any songs… because he can’t sing a lick.

Take it away, Tim!

Huh? Oh, yeah, right. Let me see… where were we now? Oh yes, I remember.

So without further adieu I present to you, one Dickens of a Christmas Story—Uh.. Part Two.

Baxter (now a slowly liquefying snowman), is telling three odious Sugarplum Fairies that he barely remembers the fable of the sacred snowball, but that his mother sometimes would read about it to him as he was drifting off to sleep—back when he was but a small snowflake in his mothers eye.

Baxter, however, is unaware that the mischievous trio of fairies that he’s encountered were actually fired by Local Fairies Union 79 for dancing poorly without a license.

And, they’ve been using the fable of the “Sacred Snowball of Azhar Malik” as part of a nefarious ponzi scheme they hatched to defraud people (and snowmen) out of all their worldly goods.

Except items… Made in China.

In fact, the local nomad news recently reported that a Mongolian camel dealer by the name of, Herman T. Zidlemeyer, had actually ran into the three crafty old fairies while he was crossing the desert on a horse with no name.

He said the three claimed an uber driver left them stranded out there with only a snowballs chance in hell of escaping the desert heat.

Wifflegif.com

As luck would have it, they just happened to have a snowball—The Famed Sacred Snowball of Azhar Malik! They swapped the great snowball with Zidlemeyer for his horse—who shall still remain nameless.

Zidlemeyer barely crawled back home to his wife who, recognizing the fabled snowball’s value—that of being totally worthless, except for when being used as a MacGuffin in a Christmas fable—told her husband to put it out on the porch of their yurt—or tent.

There, overnight, it melted and eventually became a great puddle.

Today the puddle is better known as “The Oasis of Balderdash.” Of course, it could have been much worse for Zedlemeyer—you could lose your yurt in a deal like that!

Anyway, Baxter, also suffered from brain freezes (a condition not uncommon to snowmen), and he couldn’t remember anything about the nomad news report concerning the Zedlemeyers.

So, wanting to help the LITTLE WINGED HARPIES (Uh… I mean, fairies), Baxter slipped over to an ATM at the “First Dust and Loan of Jeruselum” and fortunately, not having to deal with a frozen account, was able to withdraw every single penny (and married ones too) from his savings—leaving only nickles, dimes, and quarters to his name…

And fifty thousand shares of Frigidaire stock, which at the time, were going for $900.00 a share.

The three (wicked) little fairies were unable to contain their joy at having pulled off a fast one on a (poor but living comfortably) handicapped snowman. So much so, that they made a fateful mistake. They began break-dancing—something no licensed Sugarplum Fairy would ever be caught DEAD doing.

ALIVE, perhaps? But DEAD? No.

However, Baxter, not known for his dancing skills (what snowman is, after all, they don’t have legs, unless perhaps, they’re named Frosty), tried to join in and dance with the larcenous trio of fairies. That’s when Santa Claus came flying in—DOING 95 IN A 35 MILE PER HOUR ZONE!

Naturally, the cops, who were hot on his tail, swooped right in and arrested the whole lot of em—Baxter, the fairies (who were trying to spin away from justice), and old lead foot himself—Santa Claus.

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Baxter, was later released on his own recognizance, when it became clear that he couldn’t stand the heat. Even got his corncob pipe from L.L. Bean—BECAUSE SANTA DELIVERS.

Santa? Oh he got off for good behavior.

Well, you didn’t expect a group of elves to go and claim that they saw their bosses name on THE NAUGHTY LIST… did you?

As for those three nefarious Sugarplum Fairies… well they weren’t so lucky.

Seems there was this young pregnant woman riding on a donkey, with her husband walking along side.

There they were, the two of them, in the middle of the night no less, looking for a hotel—or so they claimed. Instead, they managed to bed down in a nearby manger.

The unscrupulous Sugarplum Fairies actually tried to pin this tale on the donkey—dummies. Fortunately, the cops weren’t buying their… FAIRY TALE.

But you will… won’t you?

 

A New Original Holiday Tale—Well Almost

Christmas Done Bright

The most wonderful time of the year is nearly upon us again. That time of year when life-affirming stories celebrate the spirit of the holidays, warm our hearts, and fill us with good cheer—like that spiked pumpkin spice latte I had the other night—and then are either read or watched for the umpteenth time.

Stories like… A Christmas Carol (all 218 versions!), Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, Frosty the Snowman, and that all-time classic…

“Baxter… the Snowman and that Fateful Dance With Those Darn Irresponsible Sugarplum Fairies.”

Now I know what you’re probably going to say. You’re going to say “Oh yeah, yeah I remember… BAXTER THE SNOWMAN AND THAT FATEFUL DANCE WITH THOSE DARN IRRESPONSIBLE SUGARPLUM FAIRIES?”

“Paul, what in the world was in that pumpkin spiced latte?”

Well, I don’t rightly know, but I wanna thank you for referencing the story in bold-type lettering—though it really wasn’t necessary.

I mean, any day now there’s bound to be a audio book version of this blog post at Barnes & Noble.

And just in time for the holidays too. They might even hire Maggie Simpson of “The Simpsons” to read it—MAKING IT A REAL STOCKING-STUFFER!—and an absolute must for your whole (blended) family.

However, none of that is important now—that is, until the cash starts rolling in—but what is important is that this story never has been a novel, movie adaptation, nor holiday television special—filled with plenty of (before November) holiday commercials—and yet, it’s still destined to become an instant yuletide classic.

Our story begins on Christmas Eve around 5 BC just outside a little town on the edge of the Egyptian Desert—a tad east of Toledo, Ohio.

NASA Space Image

There, we find a partial snowman by the name of Baxter, melting in a small pile of snow. He’s staring up into the night sky in hopes that the big red elf known as, Santa Claus, will be bringing him a corncob pipe—its been on back order from L.L. Bean for quite some time now.

Suddenly, this streaking bright object appears to race across the Eastern sky.

Why it’s Santa Claus!

And what’s this? Why he’s being followed by the Nomadic Air Patrol—uh, I think maybe we should leave it there for now. No point in making the story worse by sticking around to see Santa get a speeding ticket.

This is where three Sugarplum Fairies of ill-repute appeared out of nowhere—more likely from somewhere.

They glide up to Baxter, and begin telling him that they are on a quest for the “Sacred Snowball of Azhar Malik.”

They ask Baxter to help them in securing funding for an expedition to search for the great snowball, and upon finding it they will happily let him have some of it for the bottom have of his melting torso.

They tell him that the great snowball is magically made from Folgers Instant Crystals and that the dark crystals only melt when sprinkled into coffee. They say that since he’s a snowman and that snowmen don’t drink or swim in coffee… he would probably be set for life!

That’s a good story.

But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow—or possibly three or four more days—for the ALMOST thrilling final.

That’s because, being a complete dunderhead, I accidentally pressed publish before finishing the story and now I need time to write part two of the tale.

Of course, as many of you know, its National Novel Writing Month, and you are given until the end of November to finish a 50,000 word novel.

And I’ve only written, lets see, one, two, three, four… five… five hundred or so words! THAT’S IT, JUST FIVE HUNDRED OR SO WORDS?

Maybe I’d better stick to writing a two-part post this time and save the writing of that 50,000 word novel for November of next year.

 

Inkyboy

 

Men: Beware Of Having Those Adoring Eyes

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Are you the proud owner of a wife, or significant other? Well I am, and my significant other has just gotten done reminding me that I don’t own her.

“Well, you don’t own me! No one owns anybody.”

“I know that now, but can I finish writing this post?”

“I don’t know… can you?”

“Without interruptions?”

“Far be it from me to stop you.”

“Thank you, dear. Now as I was saying, I adore my significant other just as I am sure you, my readers, adore your (perhaps, ON LOAN) significant others.

However, beware if you should ever get caught ogiling your significant other with adoring eyes.”

“Like you did the other night at that party when I caught you undressing me with your eyes?”

“Yes, just like the other night. So what?”

“So you looked like a dear caught in the headlights.”

“Okay, guilty as charged. But what did I do that was so wrong? I mean, what’s wrong with a man sneaking a peek at his wife’s legs every so often?”

“What’s wrong with it? I thought I had a tear in my stockings!”

“But you didn’t, did you? Besides, I couldn’t stop staring, I was like a moth drawn to the flame. YOU WERE GORGEOUS!”

“WERE?

“I mean… was. Is! Are?”

“You mean you’re not sure?”

“Well of course I’m sure.”

“And all you could do was stand there stammering?”

“Well uh… uh… well… yeah.”

“Just like that, and what did I say to you?”

“You said… STOP STARING AT ME LIKE A PIECE OF MEAT, WE’RE IN PUBLIC, DUMMY! That’s what you said to me.”

The SuperHeroHype

“Exactly.”

“But honey… you reduced me into some kind of blithering idiot!”

“You did that to yourself.”

“Well yeah, but I didn’t see you as a piece of meat… I saw you with brains too.”

“That’s it! That’s it! That’s what you said!”

“What? What did I said?”

“You said you saw me with brains too!”

“Well you do, don’t you?”

“Of course I do! Makes me wonder if you have, though?”

“Huh?”

“Men. You’re so clueless at times.”

“I’m not clueless.”

“See what I mean?”

“Huh?”

“Clueless.”

“But dear, you made me feel like a complete fool. It was like the ground underneath me just magically opened up, and I couldn’t help but fall in. Now that I think about it, I’m not entirely sure I wasn’t shoved in?”

“You deserved it.”

“I did not!”

“DID TOO. Looking at me… with goo-goo eyes no less.”

“I don’t think I was deserved to be ditched though—in a manner of speaking. I mean what man does? All I was trying to do was be your be Lothario for the evening, and it was like you turned me into a corpse!”

“MEN… you’re all alike. Filthy lustful beasts.”

“Not true. I’m different, I’m attracted to your mind.”

“Was it walking around in stockings and wearing heels?”

“Oh I admit I might have been a little transparent the other night, and yes, I was initially attracted to your physical beauty, but once I fell in love with you I ceased being like all those young male troglodytes and evolved into…”

“AN OLD MALE TROGLODYTE?”

“That’s not fair, which is why I wanted to write this post. To tell you, and everyone else, how much I love you. And, that I’ve never lost my fascination with your MIND. Whaddya think of my post now, huh?”

“I think you need to stop staring at my backside in public.”

“But honey, dumpling, sweetheart… I’M TRYING!”

“I know.”

“Know what?”

“That you’re trying… TRYING MY PATIENCE!”

“Oh for goodness sakes, I give up. YOU WIN. Point, game, MATCH!”