Comment Corner

Folks, some of you may be keen to travel back in time to look at October 2006 and a little article the Comment Corner had entitled "Hosting Thanksgiving" or something.

Well, there's a little tread left on those tires as I lazily thrust my own work forward twice with this little recycled gem on this, Thanksgiving Weekend. I made a few changes so, it's just like a brand new read!

There comes a time in every person's life where they go stark raving fucking batshit insane and decide to host a Thanksgiving Dinner. Any psychologist will tell you that it is much more rational to pound wooden stakes into the ground and leap, gloriously, belly-first from your rooftop and impale yourself on them than it is to host one of these things. It is an easier task to land an entire 747 on the forehead of that dick who cut me off yesterday than it is to accurately get a read on the assortment of pies you need for dessert. There would be a nobler effort in firing a load of finishing nails out of a cannon at cancer patients than figuring out seating arrangements for the current crop of which asshole relative can't stand to be seated next to which drunken bitch.

The Prep

Cooks in the know call it prep or prepping. Only ignorant fools call it preperation. The spirit of the turkey which rests in your fridge listens specifically for the use of the word prep or preparation. If it hears the former, it may safely travel to the land of wind and dust. If it hears preparation, it knows you're a novice and will take a phantom poop in your stuffing. You may not taste it, but the turkey spirit knows you ate it. So, to avoid ghostly boom-booms in your food, always use the word prep. Even Marilyn Fucking Dennis uses prep and she looks like she's getting ready to travel to LA and eat Rachel Ray (who also uses prep) and absorb her youthful energy to smooth back the large moon-trench like wrinkles which now map her face.

Assemble all of your materials. Turkeys need to cook about 1/2 hour per 2 lbs which is a complicated enough formula to easily allow you to serve up healthy slices of salmonella to all your guests. Or a smoldering turkey (also known as a "Burnt Schoolhouse" on the Turkey Cooking circuit) if you go too long. Deep-frying a turkey? Apparently, this is the new thing to do. I don't know how exactly it's done, but I imagine it requires waiting until the dipshit teen at the Burger King fry station's got his back turned. Then you dip it in and out, stealthily, until it's cooked.

Once you have all of your materials, you can easily realize you forgot a few ingredients and you can rush off to Loblaws to fight tooth and claw for some raisins and ice cream. It helps if you have a partner, so they can handle the majority of the combat. I usually handle that part. True story: One time, a guy and I each put our hand on the last tub of ice cream. Using my finely honed Tekken skills, I grabbed him, swung him around airplane style and flung him 4 rows over into the home section. His wife and kids burst into tears out of sheer appreciation of my hand-to-hand skills. Then it turned out it was the wrong flavour. Oh well.

The USDA FSIS will tell you to always wash each surface carefully after prepping each item, so as not to cross contaminate. These people are pussies. Run each item through the dishwasher all at once; turkey, potatoes, carrots, peas, cranberries. Make sure you use a gentle rinse cycle. Follow these tips and the USDA FSIS can get back to instructing farmers not to let their cows shit in the well water. Also, they can give those same shitty farmers a grant.

Once everything is properly prepped and you've crammed shit into the turkey's ass, the stove is on, the oven is on, away you go for the cooking.

Cooking

Turkeys need to be basted with their own juices every 20 minutes. Cooks need to be basted with wine every 10 minutes. Prep accordingly.

Fuck, did I channel the lame ass soul of Dave Barry for that above joke? It should instead read: Snort cocaine and beat Whitney until she divorces you. Whew. That's much more offensive...

Prepping the Serving

Now that all of the food is a burnt mess all over your kitchen, it's time to serve that shit up. Chances are you've got a living room full of drunken house-guests all clamoring to get in and eat and smear and drink and eat and belch. These asswipes usually won't help out too much, unless it's bringing things to the table. At which point, they'll dig in and help themselves along the way. Make sure you place booby-traps in the first layers of things, like mousetraps or taser prongs. If they stick their fingers on the prongs, you wail on the trigger and that uncle will electric boogaloo his way to learning not to eat the fucking yams too early.

Once that's out of the way, you've got to carve the turkey. I prefer an electric knife. There are pros and cons to normal or electric, but at least with the electric knife, you can drown out the idiot relative who whips out the OJ carving white meat joke. If you still hear it, carve off his tumb.

Eventually, some yahoo will want to scrounge on the turkey leg. This person is a fool. There are no turkey legs to be put out on the table. They're too tendony. Yes, I did just make up the word tendony; I have a tendony to do these things. If somebody wants to eat a turkey leg, it is considered hospitable to give that person a paper plate and they can eat the leg outback by the garage. They may take with them either a napkin or a handful of water. I didn't make up the rules, I just laugh along with them.

Eating

Watch your relatives turn a day of hard labour into 20 minutes of a greasy grab-fest. Either you'll do the buffet style serving, with everything located on a separate table so you can monitor how often the fatties go to eat, or you can do the pilgrim everything-on-the-table put-down-your-fork-so-you-can-pass-Aunt-Doris-the-stuffing-again style.

Either way sucks so I suggest ordering a double leg combo with mashed potatoes from Swiss Chalet and just eating from your lap while dinner goes on.

Eventually, people will tire of gorging on food and desire sugary after dinner dessert. Now, most people will serve a pumpkin pie. But since everybody knows that pumpkin pie is also known as the Devil's Earwax, only those that God favours most don't eat it. We eat apple. Other retards in your family might want cherry. Very simply, serve them a slice of apple. Then, bash them one right on top of the nose. Make sure you strike downward so the splash of blood goes all over the pie. Then, ask them if they would like another slice of "cherry." They'll be happily eating up that apple.

If you're a mean family, time how long it takes the ultra-skinny women to go to the bathroom after dinner. I find it odd that so many of them have to wipe their mouths after going pee-pee.

Oooh, a bulemia joke!

The Cleanup

This one's easy. After everybody shuffles their bulky contents out the door, call your insurance agent and ask if the insurance premiums are up to date. If he or she says yes, set a series of fires around the baseboards on the main floor with all of the windows open to allow for maximum burn. Presto bango, you're relaxing at the nearby Holiday Inn while your insurance agent handles the details.

Then, you get to look forward to Christmas...and the Comment Corner recycling Christmas articles if the Corner gets too fucking lazy to think up something new. Bam!