The Turkey Lies Down on Broadway

I was contemplating a longish post on the horrors of research, and my unnerving tendency to write projects entirely out of my sphere of education/knowledge/even very casual acquaintance. The upside about being curious about nearly everything is that you have a limitless supply of subject matter, and you walk away with an endless supply of utterly irrelevant trivia.

The downside is that you wind up spending years researching the fuckers. I'm reading The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire to prep me for a project about, mmm, three screenplays from now. The abridged version of it runs 1600 pages. That doesn't leave a lot of time for hobbies. (But yes, it leaves some...anyone else obsessed with Gears of War? Bueller? Bueller?)

Anyhoo, that was gonna be my essay du jour, but I'll spare everyone the pain. The turkey begged me off, and what the hell. I can't turn down the request of a beast flopping around without a noggin. Especially when I just pounded the shit out of it with cornbread.

I apologize for nothing.

I do want to get this right, though. This is the first time I've done a Thanksgiving feast for New Wife Heather (tm), and even more than not wanting her to contract a pissy case of salmonella, I want her to actually enjoy the bird. Maybe she'll let me have some pie.

On that note, I'm off to do start the overnight slow cooking. Happy American Land Theft Day, everyone!

Stuffing secret of the day: pine nuts.