Get your turkey freak on, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers


Ahhh, the holiday trappings of Thanksgiving: Work out in the morning and kid yourself into thinking that makes it OK to gorge yourself; Load up on the booze at the store; Make the appetizers, and then park your sorry butt in front of that TV and make like a house plant that drinks beer in front of the football game until it's time to binge like a super model. Is this a great country, or what? I plan on taking in enough tryptophan to knock out a monkey on crack. And then I will rouse myself for the traditional Thanksgiving poker game and see if I can't soak my sweet mother-in-law for every dime she has. Muuhahahahahahahah.

Happy Thanksgiving Nuggies and Slats.

What has it been? An entire day since Michael Jackson has done or said something whacky? Good job, Michael, keep it up and in about ninety years we may not think you're a total nut-job.

If my throwback uniforms were is ugly as the Detroit Lions, I wouldn't throwback. They look like the practice uniforms of a high school in the throes of a brutal budget crunch. Even the coaches were wearing throwback jackets. These NFL marketing guys don't miss a trick. What's next? Throwforward jerseys? Here is what the players will be wearing in twenty years, so buy them now, folks.

Time to take the trouble and double trouble - Kasey and Wrigley, my yellow labradorables - to the park for a rousing game of chase the frisbee and sniff other dogs you-know-what's. Hey, dogs need to give thanks too, you know.

Peace, yo, check it, I'm out, y'all.