I'm going to tell you one of my biggest pet peeves. And that's people who sit in wheelchairs, and then propel their flabby lazy bodies around on their flabby lazy legs. "Jesus H" I cry, "how did this trend ever begin?" I shudder to think of how many times I've seen someone in the greater Portland metro area toolin' around on their fatty mobile (Probably nicknamed The Cadillac) with no better intention then to buy a pack of Virginia Slims and a Moonpie.

And then they whine about their disability! What 'bout people with honest to god handicaps?

Why should they get the priviledged parking spots? Why should they get to ride around in electric shopping carts? THEY'RE JUST LAZY WALKERS.

Okay. I'm done. Now click on something funny.

So, I'd like to give a warm shout out my homies over at Portland Office Furniture who saved me from what could have been a very crappy, crappy morning.

In short, they saved me from being late to work and left me with enough time to enjoy my morning cigarette.

"How is this possible??" you ask, shortly before I give you a wedgie and call you Sally.

The answer is simple. They sell office supplies. That means they sell white boards. That means some friggin' GENIUS who is probably getting paid less than they deserve took one of those white boards, wrote "Accident on the Hawthorne bridge," and left it where the passerby could easily view it.

Who am I to argue with a whiteboard?

I took their information to heart, detoured my normal route and hopped onto the Ross Island. Needless to say, I felt a bit smug when listening to the stories of those afflicted by the traffic.

So thank you Portland Office Furniture. Never in the past would I have thought to stop by your store, but this weekend I may be in the market for a new wacky mousepad.

Well, life's funny sometimes, ain't it?

I'd like to preclude today's post with a little something I read recently:

"Americans, let's face it: We've been a spoiled country for a long time. Do you
know what the number one health risk in America is? Obesity. They say we're in
the middle of an obesity epidemic. An epidemic like it is polio. Like we'll be
telling our grandkids about it one day. The Great Obesity Epidemic of 2004.
'How'd you get through it, Grandpa?' 'Oh, it was horrible Johnny, there was
cheesecake and pork chops everywhere.'"

-- Comedian Greg Giraldo, from "Underwear Goes Inside the Pants" by Lazy Boy

With that said, I segue now into today's observation.

Thanksgiving is upon us, and all the world's population (Except for those little Etheopian kids. And France.) will be gathered around their respective dining room tables for a moment of wholesome family togetherness, and unabashed gluttony. It's a time for Football... reflection... and enough triptophane to stop Grandpa's heart.

But mostly it's about Turkey.

Really, only once a year do we all get a chance to appreciate the Turkey for what it is. Sure, up until November we've all had our share of Turkey sandwiches, or Turkey... umm... hot dogs? What the hell else do you do with a Turkey except make sandwiches? Turkey penny loafers?

Sorry. As I was saying, only once a year do we get to see that beautiful golden bird in all it's glory. Lovingly basted in it's own meaty juices, with an aroma that fills the house and makes your nervous system lock up everytime mom or grandma open the oven door.

"Is it done yet? Is it done? Did the Turkey look done? How about the button? Did it pop? Whaddayamean it's not a Butterball? It's been cooking since four fucking A.M., is it done yet? BACK AWAY FROM THE OVEN, GRANDMA. DADDY NEEDS HIS FIX."

But I have sad news for you America. They're trying to take it all away from us. The anticipation. The scoldings caused by pre-meal snacking. The shifty "Turkey eye". They're taking it away, America.

For this.

Now, for those of you who don't have broadband I'll explain what's being displayed while the others are (hopefully) being horrified beyond the limits of their own sanity.

Deep fried turkey.

SEE? SEE WHAT IT DOES? It robs the capital T from turkey, and leaves the word naked and violated. It takes a reminder of a beautiful moment, and makes it cheap 'n' dirty. Like a used condom your little brother found in the trash.

"Look! What's this?"

"It's nothing! Don't touch that! Throw it away!"

See, I've heard about deep fried turkey. Just like I've heard that women have sexual relations in exchange for small amounts of crack cocaine. But hearing about a crack whore, and seeing a crack whore are two completely different things.

After watching this video, I witnessed two individuals completely crap on an American institution that's been around since America was friggin' NAMED America. One person was a young, hip male chef employed by the food network in order to give lonely housewives something to fantasize about while folding their husbands laundry. (You may email me at kungfuporcupine@hotmail.com, but do try to at least spell "chauvinist" correctly.) The other person was a young attractive girl... who I believe had never seen a turkey before. Maybe not even a turkey sandwich.

So there they are, making every effort to get through a five minute spot on how to destroy a turkey without tearing each other's clothes off, and over they prance to a fourty quart pot leading a platoon of bottles filled with peanut oil.

*Prance prance prance*

"Isn't ruining tradition fun, Bambi?"

So using some very clever scientific tricks they pulled from an episode of McGuyver, they measure the necessary amount of liquid needed to deep fry a turkey.

And fry it they did.

Oh ye gods, to see this 22 pound beauty methodically stabbed with a horse syringe full of "seasonings" and transformed into a heroine junkie before being slowly lowered into a bubbling pot of grease and evil... well... it made me a little sad... and then a little afraid.

Had the terrorists won?

"Oh, think of the time you'll save! By boiling poultry in fourty quarts of oil, you'll be closer to your family... and Allah!"

Okay, my point here is pretty simple. We as a society are too dependant on convenience. We want quick, easy, and a teflon surface you clean with a paper towel. But I just want to say that time, effort, and patience are the ingredients needed to make a little dish I like to call...

fucking appreciation.

Thank you to the two fans whose request for more bullshit has pulled me out of retirement.

Joshua... Dylan... this post's for you.

First and foremost, as a public service announcement, I would like to advise those of you intending to view the movie Saw to instead contribute your price of admission to a more worthwhile cause. Such as one of these useless bottomfeeders. This movie was one of the more painful cinematic experiences I have had in quite awhile. The best part of the movie is when you realize the tubby bastard trying to squeeze out some sort of realistic emotion is none other than Cary Elwes. I feel his dark portrayal of husband-powerless-to-save-his-uninteresting-family would have been better had the director been off camera silently setting a cheeseburger on fire.

Overall the whole movie could have been saved if the persistent police-officer-gone-schizo, played by Danny Glover, had voiced some kind of personal concern for being too old for this shit.

In other news, there's a possibility that I may be getting a roommate to move in with me 'n' the Missus. It'd be kind've fun to have a friend around the house with which to drink beer and play network games on the ol' computer. Aaah... long hours of network gaming... I can feel my skin lose it's pigment. More info as things develop.

Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you for now dear friends. Wednesday nights at eight o'clock mean one thing. Lost. After becoming painfully addicted to this show, I still can't tell if it's going to be really awesome or really gay. But until I figure it out, I'll be dedicating the next sixty minutes of my life to ABC.

Which doesn't stand for American Booby Channel.