Ferguson

Of course, we were all filled with outrage. Devastation. Of course we were saddened by the news, by the obvious lack of injustice. But at times like these, there's turkey to talk about. Whether to brine or dry rub. The secret to crispy skin and moist meat. The succulence, dripping down our faces as we devour plate after plate (Here's a tip: Get a little of everything the first time, then load up on the good stuff the second. Great Aunt Sue will be so happy you tried her green bean casserole!). These are trying times. How do you save room for dessert when you only really get to eat stuffing once a year? How do you save room for dessert when that skin is dark and crispy but below the juices run down your chin, when the gravy collects in the corners of your lips, when the butter rolls are buttered and the yams glazed with puddling marshmallow, when you bite and stuff and chew and swallow, pack it in, pass out, pants unbuttoned, when the 100 foot balloon is hoisted down the street, the ball is hoisted over the helmet? But of course, yes, this is a travesty, of course, and of course something must be done, yes, so sad, ugh.