Thanksgiving Day in Canada.
It is a day many will give thanks… and prey that Donald Trump loses.
Before I dribble turkey giblet gravy down my pants, I will attempt to explain why Canadians celebrate Thanksgiving in October, whereas in the United States they wait until late-November.
The short answer is that Americans are way too preoccupied in October with their presidential election campaign to celebrate Thanksgiving. Now before you say, “But Gary the election only happens every four years” remember the campaign LASTS four years!
There was a movement to move the American Thanksgiving forward to October. However, this was opposed by Wolf Blitzer, who reported in BREAKING NEWS, “We already have enough turkeys running around in October– trying to get elected.”
Thanksgiving in both our countries dates back to the days of our forefathers.
In the USA, a group of guys who called themselves the Founding Fathers met in Philadelphia where they dribbled Philly steak sauce on their powdered wigs and down their breeches while they made their football picks.
One of the major decisions of the Founding Fathers– other than to allow cheerleaders at football games (this was before stadiums had huge digital screens)– was their decision to permit citizens to carry guns.
In Canada, the Fathers of Confederation met in Charlottetown, Price Edward Island– an area known for growing potatoes, which were required for consuming poutine.
The Fathers of Confederation, not to outdone by their American counterparts, also decided to arm Canadians. So they proclaimed we could carry hockey sticks– which along with wearing a wool toque with the logo of the Toronto Maple Leafs– was deemed to be sufficient for robbing ATM’s. To this day, the Toronto Maple Leafs have been getting away with murder. Ha! Ha! Ha!
Right from the beginning, the symbol of Thanksgiving in Canada and the States has always been the turkey. Remember this was before Starbucks invented pumpkin spice lattes.
The Founding Fathers and the Fathers of Confederation drafted a law– known as the ‘Size of Turkey Law’– that said Thanksgiving turkeys must be purchased by men. This was to satisfy the turkey farmer lobbyists. They knew that men can always be counted on to buy a turkey the size of New Hampshire.
A clause of the ‘Size of Turkey Law’ states that women can throw their hands in the air and shout, “Explain to me how on earth am I supposed to fit that turkey into our oven?”
Women demanded more though. They wanted the law to be amended to read, “Women will be allowed to say under their breath, ‘I don’t know why I put up with you!'”
It’s hundreds of years later and Canadians and Americans still celebrate Thanksgiving in a similar tradition: family’s visit close relatives they haven’t seen since last Christmas. The sole purpose is to eat their food and drink their booze.
The tradition of the Thanksgiving turkey is kept alive by husbands who are responsible for carving the turkey– which is a process that only males can pull off. I’ll explain…
It begins with an afternoon drinking Bud Lite, watching football on television. Then, when the time comes guys put down their television remote and arm themselves with a finely honed surgical knife.
You’d think that everyone seeing a man who has been drinking all afternoon holding a carving knife would run in the other direction. But no they all congregate in the kitchen to watch. And to offer their expert advice on how to carve the turkey!
The carving of the turkey is complete when the man sweating profusely and shaking uncontrollably from all the attention decrees: “I can’t take this anymore! I’m done.”
With that, everyone scrambles to get a seat at the dining room table. All that is left is to arrange the carved turkey meat on the platter: the dark smithereens are placed on one end; and the white smithereens on the other end.
Sobbing, your wife looks at the platter of turkey mush and screams under her breath so her guests can’t hear, “What the hell did you do? I can’t serve this!”
At this point guys can’t stick around. It is time for another Thanksgiving tradition. They grab one of the kids to rush them up to the hospital emergency room with their arm wrapped in a dish towel as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding from the electric knife.
Gary Chalk, a baby boomer is enjoying retirement. Instead of watching his investments he muses about what he sees Living Retired. To receive Living Retired each week, to ‘unsubscribe’ or to book Gary’s keynote presentation ‘I Don’t Have Wrinkles, I Have Laugh Lines’ visit http://LivingRetired.press
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