Even hip replacement surgery can't keep me from my annual Thanksgiving tradition...

That's right...

As god is my witness...I thought turkeys could fly:

Baby, if you've ever wondered, wondered whatever became of memes...

...they're living on the web in Cincinnati, Cincinnati, W-GTB.

A tried and true GTB holiday tradition, I give you Gordon Jump's finest moment:

I am a Terrible Person Because This Headline Made Me Laugh

I have never been to Tyler, TX, which is about 90 minutes east of Dallas, but I am familiar with Greenberg Smoked Turkeys. A year ago, a work client surprised me at the office by sending a giant smoked turkey as a thank you gift for work I did with them that year. This was a thoughtful gift, but a suboptimal one for somebody who commutes to/from New York. Nevertheless, I lugged it from my office to the ferry to my car and to my home and fed it to the family. They did not love the turkey, which was SUPER SMOKY. I did though. And my dog did too. But he doesn't really count because he eats rabbit shit by choice. Here is a photo of the turkey from a year ago, before I started carving it. 

With this experience, I had some context for the following headline that I ran into on Twitter last night. And yes, I immediately laughed when I read it. I'm terrible. 

The big question - why use the word exploded? Why not perished or killed? They are animals, not popcorn kernels. It totally changed my perception of the event and made me think of exploding fem-bots from the Austin Powers movie. 

And while we (or me, at the very least) are being heartless, let's just take this to the logical next level with a hat-tip to our annual Thanksgiving post: As God is my witness...

In closing, in a more somber tone, this really is a catastrophe for a small business. The company now has to refund orders ahead of its busy season. But the company has vowed to come back in 2021. If you like really really really smoky meat, you will like this turkey. It was a bit much, even for my open-minded palate, but perhaps I should plan to put in an order in 2021 after making light of this event. 

Happy Actual Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving Gheorghies. This Gheorghie has a lot to be thankful for this year, including having this little corner of the electronic world to share with all of you. Thanks for the witty commentary, legal analysis, sometimes thoughtful insight, filler, general buffoonery, and for being a place that always offers a smile even on days when life in the real world is not so hot. 

Here a a few Thanksgiving clips you can watch while avoiding political debate with uncle Ed. 

First up is Alf helping host the 1989 Thanksgiving day parade. Watch everyone’s favorite Melmacian talk about the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and make jokes about Ishtar and Willard Scott’s weight. 

Staying in the 80’s, we have a very Cheers-y Thanksgiving. Rob and I are planning on recreating this for his in-laws enjoyment. 

And finally, the Thanksgiving clip that needs no introduction:

The Test 36: TV Themes and Beatboxing

This week on The Test, the gang reunites. We got together yesterday afternoon, after a long week of teaching, and crammed ourselves into my son Ian's bedroom, along with two microphones, and a laptop. We recorded three episodes in a row. The sound in there is sweet-- lots of corners and soft objects to break up the reverb, and the addition of a second microphone really improved what you can hear (it's one of my old condenser mics, connected with a Blue Icicle . . . we're living in the future).

While the quality of the recording is an improvement, and the quality of Cunningham's TV Theme quiz is superb, the quality of Stacey and Dave's brain power is lacking. Stacey waxes philosophically about her malfunctioning mind, and she sounds almost poetic about it: "I can't even remember my memories." I just get angry and indignant and blame having to work a five day week and then claim to have Alzheimer's.

We get our act together and come on strong by the end, however, and finish with an astounding display of verbal prestidigitation. Including some beatboxing.

Check it out, keep score, give us a good rating on iTunes and/or stitcher, and don't be stingy with the points (I'm certainly not).

Also, I bring up an incident which Whitney will recall better, with his elephantine memory. There was a fraternity brother of ours (the O-dog?) who would allow you to diminish the amount of paddling your pledge-ass received, if you could guess a TV theme song. He would only play a few notes of it, on his record player. When I tried my luck, he played the theme from Bonanza or something equally unidentifiable, and I failed to guess it. Then he missed my ass with the paddle and hit me in the hamstring. Ouch. So I could also blame my poor showing on the PTSD that TV theme songs trigger when I hear them in a competitive setting.