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Old November 27th, 2013 #1
Alex Linder
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Default #1 Thanksgiving Thread

Cranberries and Cold Rain

By Alex Linder [index]

Ok...this is a test. It is only a test. Remain seated, standing, piked, as you wish. No actual guinea pigs, Northern Portugese, moderators, silverfish or coelacanths will be harmed in the making of this post. I will not tell you what the test is about. It's just a small private thing of interest to me. The less unintelligent among you can figure out what I'm after.

This thread is for your stories about Thanksgiving. Or your hopes, plans and dreams for this weekend. Horror stories or great stories, or stories of supreme indifference. What an odd term. Of all the odd couplings in language, you'd never think someone would hook up 'supreme' with 'indifference.' It doesn't even make sense when you think about it. (Lofty works better, to my glorious ear.) So don't. Just tell me your Thanksgiving story, if you have one.

Someone constructed a brilliant post at one of the Gawkers, it was an attack on vile food more or less related to this holiday. Most of its pick I heartily second, most notably green bean casserole and this horrid orange-potato mash topped with marshmallow dung. The devil would boot the latter out of hell for unnecessary roughness, as our football pals say. Trying to turn vegetables into dessert: what could be more christian-midwestern than that? I don't know, maybe it's a Southern thing too or actually or originally, but in any case it's up here for good.

Jezebel has its usual tell-us-your-Thanksgiving-horror-story thread, which always devolves into hate-your-relatives bitchfest. I posted this, since they're looking for negs:

CatFiveHimmicaneU

One time...long ago...it was Thanksgiving in Maryland, and everywhere else too. It was raining, raining hard. My dad and I drove about 40 miles to a Denny's. We had sad racetrack turkey slices with mashedish potatoes and congealed greenish gravy. It was a sad, rainy Thanksgiving.


The truth is, although it was superficially miserable, and god only knows why we did an 80-mile roundtripper, I guess out of some sense of dull supposed-to, as whites seem to do most things these days, I somewhat enjoyed the lugubriousness of it all. That cold November rain, though, that can be the most depressing thing on earth. November is the month of death. December is the month of "Gentlemen, start your engines!," what with the solstice. I love the very last days of December, when you just get a little change in the sun. Like it starts trying again. When it finally turns over. All downhill from there. But late November is as woegegone-dreggy as it gets.

Ok, now for some stomachwarming stuff.

I always liked cranberries. As Fortuna would have it, life afforded me the rare opportunity, some years back, to stay a few days in Massachusetts, with some people with a little land. On their land they had an actual cranberry bog. I spent some time communing with the tiny orbs, really getting to know them. Getting a feel for what they've been through as a people. Their successes, their travails, their complaints about working conditions. Generally I found them a happyish lot. No one living in Massachusetts under feet of water can be completely happy as, say, a mite on a liquor vine in Napa, California, but all things considered, their chowder wasn't going unclammed. Anyway, this amateur cultural fruitologist would say that cranberries are a weird northern vegetable that grow in a sort of lagoon. Precisely the type of thing you wouldn't step in if it were in La. or Fla. for fear of alligators. They are a kind of underwater berry, creepy in the "Last Dance with Mary Jane" video sense. But boy do they taste great when combined with lots of the poison called refined sugar, altho I, for one, never noticed it behaving any more politely than brown sugar. One of my treasured memories from early VNN is having the chance to credit the great thinker, the white rural genius, who came up with a better machine for harvesting cranberries. Some farmer guy, as I recall. [Ah, here it is.] I love the idea of some white guy just mulling this over for years, and finally hitting on the right solution, which apparently is a means of shaking the underwater bushes so that the berries float to the top, where they are sucked into the metallical maw of BIG CRANBERRY, as Drew Magary would call it.

But now...my story here was, like a child looking at things adult, I always thought there was some sort of magical culinary power required to create cranberries-the-dish. I truly thought it was like some master chef preparation requiring actual gifts and esoteric knowledge. Sometimes it's more fun to let things remain magical, rather than science them open and find the same old squashed squirrel. Nevertheless, if you want cranberries, and no one's going to bring them to you, and they're not going to magically appear, you have to make them. So I looked up a recipe. Turns out I was completely wrong. Cranberries are as easy to make as instant coffee. I was a little sad yet thrilled at the same time. Kind of like having sex for the first time. Homer Simpson wasn't kidding when he said that bit about food preparation. When you're a kid, cranberries appear once a year, magically, and ravish you. Just as suddenly they whisk away again, disappearing who knows where for another twelvemonth. Something is gained and lost when we transition from child to adult, from magic to knowledge. The lighter and finer yields to the deeper and stabler, I guess. It's still sadsome though. Cranberries are sweet with pain, like all good things and great changes in life. Birth, death, knife fights.

C-berries require: 1 cup of orange juice. 1 cup of white sugar. Heat up the orange juice in a pan, stir in the sugar. Then add 12 oz or 16 oz of cranberries. Heat them up till they pop. Watch or they'll burn over the side! When they start popping, which doesn't take long, turn off the heat. Pour the pan into a bowl. Let them set. In the spirit of our Puritan ancestors, let them sit in the bowl, cool their round heels, and Think About What They've Done. The confining bowl will serve as the Correctional Institute for Hot Berries. There's a reason they're in between the color of whore's lipstick and deep embarrassment. All cranberries should be fried in orange juice daily, to twist the old joke: if you don't know why, THEY DO. Cranberries do remind me of the lips of a beautiful woman, discreet and whorish at the same time, like all the best ones are. Their color is second only in beauty to peacock's-neck blue, I would judge it.

That is the it and the all of making delicious cranberries, one of the tartest and tastiest dishes on planets earth and Mars. One of the most beautifully colored too, as, in the words of a successful restaurant owner, "We eat with our eyes, not just our mouth."

If you walk into a Hy-Vee you can pay around $4 for a name-brand bag of, say, Dole cranberries. Whereas, if you go into economical German-thoroughthunk Aldi, you can pay, as I did the other day, 79c for a 12oz bag! Now THAT is a great price.

I hope you have something good to eat, watch, read, talk to and sleep on this Thanksgiving. As for me, I'm going to eat cranberries till I puke, do some shadowboxing, then eat some more.

Here's an exciting holiday song to lift your spirits. It's by the Divinyls, and its very jittery, which is how I feel when a jag's coming on, when the muse is blowing fecund.


Last edited by Alex Linder; January 25th, 2014 at 11:13 PM.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #2
varg
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Default Bög for cranberries

Cranberry sauce is my favorite part of the meal, though it's not your cultured cranberry jamboree, I like the cheap coagulated jelly stuff. I'm a man of fine taste.

I don't really have any exciting stories about the holiday. Just me and muh cranberry sauce.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #3
313Chris
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I hate traditional Thanksgiving food, all of it. I'm half Italian, and my mother, although herself Polish, always cooked coastal Mediterranean fare in our house growing up, probably to please my father. Holidays were no exception -- lots of pasta, fish, provancale, red wine. That Anglo-feed is too dull for my taste.

My favorite part of Thanksgiving is the night before -- meeting old friends from high school, in town for the holiday, at the bar and sharing laughs and memories.

Linder, you boxed? What weight class?
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #4
Alex Linder
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Quote:
Originally Posted by varg View Post
Cranberry sauce is my favorite part of the meal, though it's not your cultured cranberry jamboree, I like the cheap coagulated jelly stuff. I'm a man of fine taste.

I don't really have any exciting stories about the holiday. Just me and muh cranberry sauce.
I like the canned stuff too, altho it comes in for a lot of abuse. Just a different thing under same name. My point was, you can make cranberries in five minutes. I thought it took hours. But you can only get cranberries cheaply at this time of year, I think. Unless you live in Mass. or Wisconsin, anyway, the two main places they grow.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #5
Alex Linder
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Originally Posted by 313Chris View Post
I hate traditional Thanksgiving food, all of it. I'm half Italian, and my mother, although herself Polish, always cooked coastal Mediterranean fare in our house growing up, probably to please my father. Holidays were no exception -- lots of pasta, fish, provancale, red wine. That Anglo-feed is too dull for my taste.

My favorite part of Thanksgiving is the night before -- meeting old friends from high school, in town for the holiday, at the bar and sharing laughs and memories.

Linder, you boxed? What weight class?
No, I never boxed. Was more or less joking, hence shadowboxing.

Pasta isn't food, Chris!

Traditional meal is great, but I eat loads of chicken and turkey, wild turkey, all year long, as well as deer.

Got fucked this year on the deer, a major disappointment.

People say turkey is bland. Maybe it is. Bland doesn't bother me. Hot food isn't better, in my opinion. You can add jalapenos to chili but they don't make it better, beyond the first.

Best thing with birds, have a spice garden, rip some out and jam it under the skin, that seems to produce the biggest effect. In general, I've found you can't use too many spices with chicken, I use everything and lots of it, works just fine. Also, potatoes are delicious. Perhaps not to Mediterraneans, but to Germanics and Irish, potatoes are a main dish. Good every which way.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #6
Alex Linder
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This is me when I hear the Pasta Man scratching outside the door.

 
Old November 27th, 2013 #7
Solskeniskyn
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I've eaten a Swede copycat (what I think should qualify as) semi-legitimate Thanksgiving Dinner ™ once...sweet potato mash, stuffed turkey, cranberry-sauce, pumpkin pie. I left the table stuffed and pleasantly suprised.

And I share the regard for ze cranberries in general, too... we Swedes who never made the journey over to the claimed "land of opportunities" and remained on Nordic land make jelly out of them to be served as a complement to elk/raindeer-dishes. Indispensible addition.

Last edited by Solskeniskyn; November 27th, 2013 at 08:11 PM.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #8
Alex Linder
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[liberal = someone who thinks highly of himself and lowly of his relatives]

From jezebel's thanksgiving thread, 2013

- One of the last holidays I spent with them, some years back, the cousins around my age told me that people get AIDS from having sex with black people (except they used the N word instead).

- Anybody who says racism or sexism doesn't exist hasn't been home for Thanksgiving in a while.

- Tomorrow I spend the holiday with my entire extended family, all of whom recently shared this on facebook:




- My parents are going, and I'm an only child. I'd never hear the end of it. I plan to bring vodka.

Also, I was told for years to keep my mouth shut at family gatherings until my grandfather passed away. Guess who died last year?? No more smiling and nodding. Hopefully after this they just outright ban me from everything


... If I can ever manage to get hired somewhere out of state like I want to, I'll be dropping all contact.

- I wish. Every year I feel slightly bad about it, but I always kind of wish my friends also disliked their families, or lived too far from their relatives, so we could have an awesome Friendsgiving. But all my like-family friends have families they can tolerate.

[now this is a story]

PenablerUDodai Stewart

Fuck, I just posted this on the racist sexist uncle article on Gawker. Well:

I have an older cousin that I idolized as a kid. He was tall and blond, ripped, funny, and a nuclear scientist. He gave it up to be a masseur in Hawaii. He looked like an angel and he was a god to me. He had the most powerful handshake, but it wasn't dominating.

I also had an uncle that was a dark racist monster. One leg was shorter than the other and he worked at the carnival. He was fat but it was somehow super dense and he was tremendously strong. When he shook your hand he was trying to hurt you. He had implied that he had sex with 14 year olds. I was terrified of him.

Thanksgiving was the holiday these titans would duel. My cousin and uncle would grasp hands and exchange pleasantries but you could see a battle was taking place my uncle would have a fake smile on his face but you could tell there was nothing but contempt in his eyes. My cousin would psychologically rebuff him with a wall of cool confidence. It was like watching two wizards shooting a streaming laser at each other and pushing them back and forth. This would take a full minute for one of them to let go. I could never tell who won, but they did.

The last I saw that uncle was at Thanksgiving. He was making jokes about how Asian people looked like they got hit by a frying pan or something. Everyone was looking at me, waiting to see what I would do, because I was dating a Cambodian girl at the time. My uncle knew. My father put his hand on mine, trying prevent me from yelling and ruining Thanksgiving. Instead I quietly got up from the table and walked out the door. My sister and her boyfriend left in solidarity. We spent the rest of Thanksgiving with some friends down the street.

Later that year that uncle died and its still unclear how. i couldn't bring myself to feel bad. He was a monster, a dominating, racist, pedophile, and the world was better off for him being dead. It made me realize I have two families, the one I'm born into and the one with the people that i really love and care about, with the people I choose.

In conclusion, fuck sexist racist uncle. I'll see you in hell and I'm stronger than you now.



lankypankyUDodai Stewart

Last Thanksgiving, I was at a colleague's house. His parents were present. His dad is a Lutheran minister. My dad's a Lutheran minister. I thought I was being nice.

I said, "One of the good things about being Lutheran is that you don't have to believe everything Martin Luther said. Like, holy cow, he just hated the Jews, but you don't have to -"

"No, he didn't."

I'm boggled. "Yeah, he wrote all that stuff about how Jews should be forced to wear special signs."

"No, he didn't!"

"Yeah, he . . ." There were ten people begging me with their eyes to let the matter drop. "Okay, never mind."

Somewhere, there's a Missouri Synod minister who chooses to believe Martin Luther didn't write some insanely anti-Semitic stuff. I'm also not invited back to that house this year for Thanksgiving.


[this really belongs in special humor section]

- After that, I went into some kind of loneliness spiral, where I watched Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory 4 times in a row and didn't shower. The day after Thanksgiving, right before the first people started returning, I agreed to a blind date with a friend of a friend from home who offered to take me to breakfast, which I didn't know until later meant "convince me to give him my first ever blowjob before buying me lukewarm diner eggs."

The blowjob part was all right, but the eggs just made me sadder. Today 5:40pm

[the eggs just made her sadder. but not me. they made me laughier.]

- But then everyone left. And I was alone. The apartment creaked in the wind. The soft pitter-patter of the rats in my building grew distracting. The delicate smell of my wife’s perfume left on her pillow became intoxicating. To put it succinctly, the crippling fear of abandonment that I had fostered my whole life reared its ugly head. I finished off 8lbs of turkey, two pies folks hand brought, and drank that gallon of nearly fermented beer while watching extended edition lord of the rings in my underwear. I totally couldn’t handle being alone on a holiday. Today 5:43pm

Last edited by Alex Linder; November 27th, 2013 at 09:00 PM.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #9
Alex Linder
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Originally Posted by Solskeniskyn View Post
I've eaten a Swede copycat (what I think should qualify as) semi-legitimate Thanksgiving Dinner ™ once...sweet potato mash, stuffed turkey, cranberry-sauce, pumpkin pie. I left the table stuffed and pleasantly suprised.
That sounds about right. Americans have pumpkin pie about once or twice a year. That's about enough for that particular flavor. Stuffing is nice, but that's not the easiest thing to make. Many women know how to do it. Fixing giant turkeys is not that easy, either, very easy to get it wrong. I've never cooked a commercial turkey, just wild ones. Commercials are bred for giant breasts, that's the main difference. There is no real difference in taste, but the meat of a wild turkey is much stronger (not gamey, literally stronger, like it takes more effort to pull it apart) and seemingly denser. I cooked an average size wild turkey a couple weeks ago, came out great. Seventy minutes at 450. Crock-potted the drumsticks with some potates and carrots.

Quote:
And I share the regard for ze cranberries in general, too... we Swedes who never made the journey over to the claimed "land of opportunities" and remained on Nordic land make jelly out of them to be served as a compliment to elk/raindeer-dishes. Indispensible addition.
So they grow over there, that would make sense. Funny how some berries like blueberries grow all over the place, north and south, but I don't think that's true of cranberries.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #10
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Alex Linder View Post
[liberal = someone who thinks highly of himself and lowly of his relatives]

From jezebel's thanksgiving thread, 2013

- One of the last holidays I spent with them, some years back, the cousins around my age told me that people get AIDS from having sex with black people (except they used the N word instead).

- Anybody who says racism or sexism doesn't exist hasn't been home for Thanksgiving in a while.
I see those threads on Reddit every year too. It's usually some interracial couple & meeting the folks, or just your average liberal complaining about their disgusting racist parents. usually the responses run along the line of "cut off all ties with those racist idiots!"

Amerikwa: Jewish doctrines above family
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #11
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I've seen pictures of kwan-bred mega-turkeys, quite a sight to behold. I think the difference and the less dense/tasting commercial ones comes from general frankenstein hormonal action and bad feed.
The odd thing is wild turkeys and commercial taste the same. But the meat is different in texture and tensile strength, if I'm using that correctly, as well as density. I suppose this comes from the wild ones being fitter, getting better exercise and diet. Wild ones have acrons, grass, pebbles and grasshoppers in their craw.

OOPS - I EDITED YOUR POST INSTEAD OF REPLIED, sorry about that. AL./

Last edited by Alex Linder; November 27th, 2013 at 09:32 PM.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #12
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That cold November rain, though, that can be the most depressing thing on earth. November is the month of death.
I think it depends on where you live, and how you live. Out of all the holidays of the year, Thanksgiving was always my favorite. Not because of visting with family, not because of the big dinner, and certainly not because we are supposed to stop and reflect over our lives as if this is the only day that we should do so.

I love Thanksgiving because it signals the opening day of rifled deer season. The Monday after Thanksgiving is Opening Day here, and is as much, if not bigger holiday in some circles, as actual Thanksgiving.

On Opening Day, there will be an estimated 1,000,000 armed men, women, and young adults in the woods and fields of Pennsylvania taking part in the time honored tradition of deer hunting. It is such a tradition, the majority of the public schools in PA are closed (except a few of the inner city school districts) and even many businesses in the rural areas. It is by far the most celebrated, unofficial holiday of the year. It is a special time of year.

The sound of gunfire can be heard all over the state on Thanksgiving afternoon as hunters check the zero on their favorite hunting rifle or the new one they just bought for this year's hunt. Last minute shoppers wearing flourescent orange hunting caps can be spotted in sporting goods sections of any retail or grocery store. The weather outlook becomes one of the most singular important topics of conversation, with fervent hopes for snowfall in the forecast. Pickup trucks loaded down with gear pack the roads heading to the less populated regions of the state. Entire towns come to life for this 2 week span, earning an entire year's income during the annual deer season.

While much of our society is standing in line to buy the latest shiny "must have" gadget.....while the most holy days of retail sales of a consumer society are taking place.....while people push, shove, and trample their fellow shopper, a million people will be heading to what's left of our hinterlands to watch the sun rise on a crisp, Novemeber Monday morning. Fathers, sons, mothers, and daughters will watch the coming of the dawn with silent anticipation to take part in something that our ancestors have done since the dawn of time......the hunt.

Thanksgiving brings in Opening Day.

Last edited by Mr A.Anderson; November 27th, 2013 at 08:58 PM.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #13
Alex Linder
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[this from article was looking for, these are the two dishes most disturbing]

Green Bean Casserole — I will concede that it is theoretically possible for there to exist a Green Bean Casserole that isn't terrible. I'm just not sure it's ever been done before. There's no individual ingredient to this dish that I actively dislike, but when their powers combine, it summons Captain Vomit. I honestly feel bad for the crispy onions on top of these things. Poor crispy onions; the rancid cream and soggy vegetables don't actually love you — they're just using you for your good looks. You should dump them and get with a burger who'll like you for you.

Sweet Potato Casserole with Marshmallows — Who...who even...how could you...WHY DOES THIS EXIST?! Why would you do this to a perfectly good sweet potato casserole?! 1) They're fucking sweet potatos, they don't need marshmallowy death glue to give them MORE sweetness, and 2) if you really want to add something sweet, use candied nuts or (pending allergy issues) something else with some sort of crunchy texture as a fucking crust. Why would you leave disgusting, half-melted depth charges in your fucking sweet potato casserole?! Are you hunting for U-Boats in there?! Is the inside of every sweet potato casserole a scene from Das Boot?! PLEASE LET IT BE SO, I WANT TO BELIEVE.

http://groupthink.jezebel.com/thanks...pec-1470128524
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #14
Alex Linder
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Originally Posted by Mr A.Anderson View Post
I think it depends on where you live, and how you live. Out of all the holidays of the year, Thanksgiving was always my favorite. Not because of visting with family, not because of the big dinner, and certainly not because we are supposed to stop and reflect over our lives as if this is the only day that we should do so.

I love Thanksgiving because it signals the opening day of rifled deer season. The Monday after Thanksgiving is Opening Day here, and is as much, if not bigger holiday in some circles, as actual Thanksgiving.

On Opening Day, there will be an estimated 1,000,000 armed men, women, and young adults in the woods and fields of Pennsylvania taking part in the time honored tradition of deer hunting. It is such a tradition, the majority of the public schools in PA are closed (except a few of the inner city school districts) and even many businesses in the rural areas. It is by far the most celebrated, unofficial holiday of the year. It is a special time of year.
Ours just ended, been playing innkeeper and short-order cook the last week ten days. Was a sucky one this year, totals down statewide. Too much wind. Deer won't move around. Guys I know got one deer. normally they'd get 3-4 pretty quickly. All that's left is an anterless season in December.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #15
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Flying today to have Thanksgiving dinner with my children. The taxi driver that took me to the airport was half jew and half Italian (father, mother, respectively), born in jerusalem no less.
He told me how he believed that jews killed Kennedy, control the banks and media, and are ruining America. He said he felt that White militias have been unjustly demonized and that the black and mexican gangs run free.

Probably one in 10,000. Could not help but shake his hand and tip him 10 bucks.
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Old November 27th, 2013 #16
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I get together with an old friend and we go to a diner downtown San Francisco for turkey, fixings, and wine. I usually park a couple miles away and we walk through those old streets looking at all the weirdos. It is usually a good time. Then I'll drop my friend off and come back here and fuck around on my various projects, and that will be my Thanksgiving.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #17
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Originally Posted by Alex Linder View Post
Ours just ended, been playing innkeeper and short-order cook the last week ten days. Was a sucky one this year, totals down statewide. Too much wind. Deer won't move around. Guys I know got one deer. normally they'd get 3-4 pretty quickly. All that's left is an anterless season in December.
Ours changed the regulations about 10 years ago to improve the large buck count. In most Wildlife Management Units (WMU's) across the state, an adult hunter (16 yrs and older) is limited to one buck (either archery, muzzleloader, or rifle season) with 4 points on one antler to be a legal kill (7 point bucks or above are legal, 6 point is a no-go. Half racks that have 4 or more points are legal). Youth hunters have no point restriction for a buck (considered a buck if it has 2 or more points on an antler, or a single antler (spike) measuring 2" in length.

This has resulted in more "trophy" bucks being taken, but less deer overall, much to the consternation of motorists and insurance companies. In the mountain counties, it is a 3 point restriction instead of 4 point. It is hard enough to identify in dense foliage when they are on the run, let alone counting the points. At least the Game Commission has reduced the penalty for mistake kills. I will be out on Monday morning with the eldest boy, but more for the chance to bond over the annual experience than anything else. I'd rather him shoot a deer than me, as he's never got one. Besides, that would mean I'd have to gut, drag out, hang up, skin, and cut the damned thing myself. I'd rather him experience and learn all of that.

We didn't apply for any antlerless tags this year, but might do some nuisance deer hunting in February if we can find a holder that is local.

I kicked out a nice buck today out small game hunting - was at least a 6 point - but would never have been able to take a shot if it was in season......couldn't count the exact number of points. Seems like the advantage is in owning a stand, and hoping the deer walks up to you. Stalking is almost impossible now with the new regulations........and that's how I killed most of my deer.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #18
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When I was a kid, my mother would always make some sort of casserole/dressing type dish every Thanksgiving. As with Alex and the cranberries, it was a once a year thing for us and was a favorite.

One year, my mother sent my step-dad and me on a grocery run, one of the items being the oysters for the dressing. Our main grocery had run out of the oysters, so we had to resort to the tiny grocery on the west side owned by a little jew, who had sniffed out the oyster shortage and was lying in wait.

Mom liked to hit the sauce once in a while, and the stress of the holidays always sent her for the bottle, (helps ya to relax, y'know.) She had already gotten a good start when we returned with the way overpriced oysters. Upon hearing of the price of the oysters, she demanded to be driven to little jew at the little grocery. My brother and I knew what was coming, so we rode along for the show.

She started in on him before the door was shut behind her, and charged at him with such aggression that he retreated toward the back of the store, backpedaling and stumbling all the way, fearing that she was going to physically attack. He tried to fumble a couple of words out, but she didn't give him much room to say anything. By the time she was done he had gotten himself behind the meat counter, probably to fetch a blade with which to defend himself should she lunge.

She finally finished, all got quiet and we all went home, enjoyed the overpriced oysters, and laughed about the wormy little creature cringing behind the meat counter.
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Old November 27th, 2013 #19
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When I was a kid, my mother would always make some sort of casserole/dressing type dish every Thanksgiving. As with Alex and the cranberries, it was a once a year thing for us and was a favorite.

One year, my mother sent my step-dad and me on a grocery run, one of the items being the oysters for the dressing. Our main grocery had run out of the oysters, so we had to resort to the tiny grocery on the west side owned by a little jew, who had sniffed out the oyster shortage and was lying in wait.

Mom liked to hit the sauce once in a while, and the stress of the holidays always sent her for the bottle, (helps ya to relax, y'know.) She had already gotten a good start when we returned with the way overpriced oysters. Upon hearing of the price of the oysters, she demanded to be driven to little jew at the little grocery. My brother and I knew what was coming, so we rode along for the show.

She started in on him before the door was shut behind her, and charged at him with such aggression that he retreated toward the back of the store, backpedaling and stumbling all the way, fearing that she was going to physically attack. He tried to fumble a couple of words out, but she didn't give him much room to say anything. By the time she was done he had gotten himself behind the meat counter, probably to fetch a blade with which to defend himself should she lunge.

She finally finished, all got quiet and we all went home, enjoyed the overpriced oysters, and laughed about the wormy little creature cringing behind the meat counter.
Good story! Never had oyster dressing.
 
Old November 27th, 2013 #20
Alex Linder
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Alex Linder
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This is the dish that divides people:



That's a crime against nature and artifice.

Looks like a giant pot of rotten stewed carrots had bad sex with Frosty the Snowman's degenerate brother.
 
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