Dead Bird Walkin'...

Today, on the way to work, I heard the following story on the radio. It was a simple little blurb at the end of the news broadcast, the kind of story that newspeople like to call "lighthearted".

It is the day before Thanksgiving, and as is traditonal, the President has come forward and granted a pardon to the turkeys, two of them in this case, that had been carefully selected (by some sort of federal turkey committee, we must assume) to be served as the main course at the White House, come Turkeyday afternoon. This begs a rather cynical question, methinks. Are we to believe that President W. and the clan, along with the secret service and staff, are not, in fact, having the oh-so-traditional (not to mention yummy) turkey dinner on Thanksgiving day? Personally, I find that difficult to believe. Imagine it. There they all are, George and Laura and the twins, the Secret Service huddled around the kiddie table, all of them eating re-heated leftovers. "Nice goin', dad." One of the twins says ruefully. "Had to go and pardon the turkey again. Didn't you learn your lesson last year?"

The news story went on to explain what will become of the pardoned turkeys. They go to Disneyland. No kidding. They actually serve as grand marshalls at the Disneyland parade. One would think that eventually, somewhere along the chain of command, once the press stops paying attention and nobody is thinking about the famous freed birds anymore, that they are most likely gonna get eaten anyway. Mmmmmm, presidentially pardoned poultry...

I listened to this and I thought: We are a bunch of complete idiots.

I hear George W. Bush, like most presidents at this point in their term, is concerned about his legacy. Here's a way he could've really given his legacy an appropriate boost.

Imagine it: reporters and photographers gathered on the lawn of the rose garden, burbling amongst themselves, testing their equipment, readying their cameras and recorders. A blue platform stands at the end of the White House's side entrance, flanked by Secret Service and marines in dress uniform. George W. Bush emerges and the crowd applauds politely. Mr. Bush approaches the podium with the presidential seal on it, glances to the side, drawing everyone's attention to the two turkeys standing bewildered in cages displayed on the side of the platform. They are grand old birds, fat and docile, their feathers plumped out and their old lady's wattled heads looking resplendently red in the noon sunlight.

The president grips the podium. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Today, before you all, I hereby grant a full and unconditional pardon, effective immediately..." He pauses, smirking a little, glancing around the crowd of press and staffers. "To the butcher in charge of dressing these two delicious looking birds."

A man in the front row stands up quickly and dutifully. He is wearing butcher's apron and a high white chef's hat. He draws a butcher's knife from his apron belt as if it were a sword, then offers it handle-first to the commander in chief. Bush nods to the man, reaches down to accept the knife. He holds it up, grinning. "I'm gonna do it myself!" He exults. "I'm goan' EAT them mah' fahs."

And George Bush steps smartly over to the cage, yanks the first bird out and ...

Well, then pandemonium ensues. But still, that'd be a legacy maker, wouldn't it? I mean, does the president really make a statement by performing the same dopey, milquetoast idiocy that presidents have been doing for the past 59 years? Neh. Butcher them birds and eat 'em raw. That's what I say.