Thanksgiving Cartoon Carnival

"Jerky Turkey" (Tex Avery, 1945) via YouTube 


Daffy Duck in "Holiday for Drumsticks" (Arthur Davis, 1949) via YouTube 


Tom and Jerry in "The Mouse Comes to Dinner" (William Hanna & Josepth Barbera, 1945) via YouTube
Thanks to GoldenAgeCartoons.com

Eating With the Stars

I've been finished with my commitment to the "Radio City Christmas Spectacular" for five days and I am so hungry. Golly, did they feed us!

Thanksgiving weekend alone, we put on 11 shows (and untold poundage) in three days. We ate every three hours, following the Nativity finale. That's eight catered feasts in three days -- plus, snacks whenever we pleased.

To fit them all in, I had to schedule times to belch.

"I can erupt at 2:57, Intermission, which means I can Coca-Cola now and, maybe, THESE BROWNIES!... Nom. Nom. Nom. Nom. Nom...."

The crew always ate with the cast. Rockettes in their robes AND gravy!

For that I gave thanks.

Indeed, the Rockettes wore bathrobes to the buffets, before changing back into their work clothes. I simply continued to wear the terrycloth kimono while doing my job, strutting up through the Fox Theatre balcony crowds to the projection room.

Breezy! And more time for scarfing!

Santa dined in his red, fur-trimmed Slanket, which had to be altered after each slurp fest, while the Ensemble was seen in fleece Snuggies, which kept them warm and the sheep out of the commissary.

Say, for what it's worth, those Rockettes can pack away the food. I was astounded to see the girls' plates piled high with desserts galore. Of course, that's what abundant exercise can allow -- and exactly how I keep my figure, through vigorous exercise. I'm on The Burp Work-Out.

I stretched on a sofa after one humongous meal, stuffed, fulfilled, and happy, until some wag pointed at my tummy and asked if I were understudying the camels.

Thanksgiving Feats

I am thankful for animals and kindnesses extended to them.



I am also thankful Donna and I are celebrating 20 years as vegetarians this month. Twenty-one Thanksgiving turkeys and countless other lives saved. Alongside my marriage, it is my proudest accomplishment.

We spent our Thanksgiving with friends and their numerous dogs, cats, horses, and tot cow, Chester. Most rescued. All loved. All happy. For all time.

It was a good day, and heartwarming to observe and caress those magnificent creatures.

(Video via Snotr.com, thanks to Stan Malone.)

How My Thanksgiving Day Was Ruined Beyond Despair

We all had a lovely Thanksgiving feast and, afterward, I was reminded of a recent revelation which had put me on the path to changing my life for better health and mental pleasure. Apparently, Flintstones Vitamins are not only good supplements for growing girls and boys, but also they're ideal for adults.

Yeehah! Time has not passed me by! All I need to do is visit a drug counter and acquire the pills shaped like beloved animated television stars ("The Leading Brand Moms Trust and Kids Love").

I have never ingested a Flintstones Vitamin, never. Being a first generation fan of the original prime time broadcasts of Bedrock, I've eagerly anticipated englutting me some Rubbles.

My mother refused to purchase these miracle cartoon pills when I was a child. She was skeptical of Stone Age medical practices.

I could not alter her perception, so, instead, I grew up fortified on The Untouchables Multiple Vitamins ("The Leading Brand Molls Trust and Gangsters Loot").

Mom had no trouble getting me to touch The Untouchables. All she had to do was mention a prohibition against the nutrients, so, of course, I'd sneak off and down a daily dose with a large slurp of counterfeit milk and a flapper named "Three-Fingers Flopsy" (who broke my heart -- and seven fingers).

Yesterday, following dessert, I picked up a bottle of Flintstones I found in the happy kitchen of my mother-in-law. There, the ingredient "gelatin" jumped off the vitamins' label and jolted me into the 21st century, much like I had been suddenly pummeled to the ground by Dino, the dinosaur.

"Oh, Fred," I said.

I heard that someplace and it seemed appropriate.

I cannot consume gelatin. I'm not allowed. I'm a vegetarian. Gelatin is made from animal hooves, leftover critter skins, and highlights from Rosie O'Donnell variety specials.

What a crushing disappointment. Did you notice my lips?


What had once promised to be exquisite is now disaster and unrequited.

I shan't ever chew on Wilma.

Why We Are Thankful

First, an impromptu production number ensued and then something massively fungal and pandemic occurred at the nearby campus. It happens every Autumnal Hop and Frolic.

The students are all sequestered in the gymnasium, awaiting podiatrists and algebra assignments and special lyric ballads, police said.

The general community at large is believed to be safe. National Guard officials credit volunteer thwarters of a feared outbreak of crunk.

Thank you, Homeland Security. Take some time for remedial spelling. You've earned it. See Miss Landers in Room 12.

Dawn's Early Bite

Continued From: "Dawn's Early Fight"

Rushing home from Wal-Mart's Black Friday after-Thanksgiving sale, I couldn't help but notice area farmers, residents, and tourists showed us a distinct lack of ticker tape and confetti showers during our single car victory parade.

"Hey, people, we copped an all-in-one computer printer-scanner-copier for only $25!" I screamed at the distinct lack of area farmers, residents, and tourists along the route.

"Moo," said a possum. This town just doesn't get it.

Like a little kid on a month before Christmas morning, I ripped into my sparkly new box of Lexmark technology, shortly after removing the HAZMAT suit and three inches of accumulated dust found on and under the old, defunct, and freshly discarded printer in my office.

I followed the helpful instructions. Everything was going smoothly during the set-up process, until, buried in section #5, four words were slipped in there, hoping I wouldn't notice.

"Connect the USB cable."

"Huh? What USB cable?" I said to my wife, who took her cue, crawling under the bed to slip on her safety goggles.

My temper rose, zero to boil in 2.7 seconds.

I rifled through the packing carton. All of the listed enclosures were accounted for, but no USB cable was mentioned.

That's one method to keep the price of the machine so minuscule. Leave out a necessary part.

What an outrage! I've owned computers for more than two decades, but there is no spare USB cable in this house. Who has an available USB cable sitting around?

Grrrrr.

We returned to the Wal-Mart and located their only suitable USB cable: 12 dollars-plus with tax, half again as much as the price of the printer. I purchased one, but decided to shop for a better deal. With maniacal determination, we folded into the car and proceeded along the rural road.

"Cluck," said a raccoon.

At the home improvement place, we uncovered one USB cable, costing more than $18. Forget that.

At the dollar store, no luck, but my visit did cause me to wonder if dollar stores have Black Friday sales. You know, 5 a.m. deep savings, everything slashed to 99 cents or two for $1.99?

At the supermarket, while looking for something medicinal to calm my cardiac throbs and Ben & Jerry's to calm my weight loss, I wondered if this establishment might offer a USB cable to Mikey.

Sure enough, they did! And only $3.88!

We U-turned to Wal-Mart and got our 12 bucks back.

"That'll teach 'em," I said.

"Should we buy ink while we're here?" Donna asked.

"Yeah. I didn't think of that."

We found the aisle with the Lexmark #24 color cartridge.

"$21.98"

"Grrrrr..."

Dawn's Early Fight

Having boycotted Wal-Mart for well over a year, I was a bit disoriented to find myself caught up in the store's annual after-Thanksgiving frenzy. It was our first ever Black Friday sale.

Wal-Mart's junk mail had appeared on the kitchen table. Flipping through the pages to tally how much money I would not be spending there this week, I noticed the 5 a.m. special on an all-in-one computer printer-scanner-copier for a scant $25!

That's a deal, especially for a guy years without a printer, who had grown tired of emailing documents to his family and friends with the plea, "Make me a copy, Guttenberg."

Choking back acid reflux (mmmm, Wal-Marty flavor), I looked at my wife and said, "We're going in."

Later

3:14 a.m -- I crawled into bed at the normal time. Unconsciousness followed within minutes.

4:01 a.m. -- The clock alarm squealed.

4:01:37 a.m. -- Donna stirred. "We've overslept," I said.

4:22 a.m. -- Cold in a cold car, the couple of us aimed for town.

4:23 a.m. -- "We are officially nuts," I said.

4:31 a.m. -- "Run! Hurry! Get it! Get it!" I barked, as we raced beyond the entrance doors, grabbing the last available shopping cart. That's an ominous sign, no shopping carts. I felt fear and started running deep into the store.

4:32 a.m. -- "Sorry, 'Shrek 3' display," I yelled, increasing my pace, having been slowed by bumping into the ogre. "Somebody will buy you off the linoleum."

"That's not Shrek," Donna said from behind, as I turned a sharp left and sparks flew from the speeding cart's axles.

"Oh," I said with compassion. "That lady'll be okay. She was next to the bronzers."

4:34 a.m. -- We found the shrink-wrapped pallets of desirable merchandise parked in the Electronics department. I towered over the $25 Lexmarks and Donna hovered next to expensive $34 Hewlett-Packard printers, our devious back-up selection. We waited. No items would be released until 5 a.m.

4:37 a.m. -- I counted only 20 "while supplies last" printers stacked at my knees. There were easily that many customers-in-waiting circled near me with more arrivals every minute, all with a glare of menace.

I knew that look. I, too, am a cheapskate.

4:38 a.m. -- I remarked, "There's going to be bloodshed, isn't there?"

4:38:07 a.m. -- An elderly woman sized me up, adding: "Virgin, ain't-cha?"

4:38:11 a.m. -- Looking down at my feet, swiveling, I blushed, gushed, "Tee hee."

4:57 a.m. -- Sweat dripped off my brow. I felt a chill and thought of Bambi's mother.

4:58 a.m. -- "The tocking! The ticks and the tocking! Make it stop!" I told 'em.

4:59 a.m. -- Bargain bounty hunters packed the aisles. The promise of fresh roadkill permeated the air, commingled with sounds of heavy breathers tensing.

5:00 a.m. -- "Okay!" signaled the clerk. Like piranhas on a cow, the mob devoured the entire stock of printers.

5:00:01 a.m. -- Sale over.

5:03 a.m. -- I fought my way through the crowd and rescued Donna from the losers' printer envy. She clutched her own box of treasure. We compared the technical specifications on the two packages and decided to go with the $25 beauty.

"We save another $9," I said with a high hop and an airborne heels click, and a yawn.

For the next two hours, we examined the leftover pickings of $2.96 unwatchable DVDs, and pretend blenders.

We did hoard a dozen inexpensive bath towel sets in all our favorite colors, providing those colors could only be rust, off-rust, rust rust, rust rust rust, or lint.

Out front, I posed with the finest of fortuitous finds, the pink Volkswagen Barbie car.


Liked it so much, we dove back into the Wal-Mart and elbowed and trampled, but in a Christian manner, to snag another.

"We are officially buggy," Donna said.

To top off the exhilarating Black Friday value grab adventure, we crossed the road to treat ourselves to coffee at Starbucks. Our lucrative morning savings were depleted three sips into peppermint 'spressos.

Too-too caffeinated, we strolled hand-in-hand into the Wal-Mart for old times sake, just as the first annual grandmas slugfest over Chicken Dance Elmo and Little Mommy Bedtime Baby threatened to get ugly.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.


Continued: "Dawn's Early Bite"

I Survived Black Friday!

Well, so far.

The full shopping scoop later.

I've got to get some sleep.

And maybe go back for BIG SAVINGS! on a Presto^® FryDaddy!


Continued: "Dawn's Early Fight"