Don't eat me!

Okay, I’m not sure how much time I have to write this. That farmer has got an axe in his hand and blood in his eye. He wants his Thanksgiving dinner, and I’m it. Which is the point of this little missive.

I mean, turkeys, really? Do you really have to eat us? Couldn’t you find some other way to celebrate your extermination of the native population?

Okay, I just realized that last sentence seems to answer the one before it, so let me put it another way. The pilgrims probably never even had turkey at the first Thanksgiving. If you want to be authentic, and I’m all about authentic. Go with maize, or pumpkins, or something like that. I guess deer would also be authentic, not that I’m trying to throw a different animal under the bus.

Fine, yes maybe I am. Go ahead and eat deer or rabbit or whatever. Just don’t eat me. I really don’t want to end up on a plate. I have a life too, you know. Sure, maybe it consists of wandering the barnyard and pecking at bugs in the dirt, but it’s my life. It works for me, and I’d like to keep it. To paraphrase one of your own musicians, all I’m saying is, give tofu a chance.

Uh-oh, I hear the farmer coming. I better hit send before