BILLINGSGATE POST: After watching President Biden getting a little too friendly with one of the turkeys he pardoned before Thanksgiving, Elmer Smuckmeister, no stranger to his own sheep, admonished Joe Biden:
“Don’t do it, Joe. Those rascals will turn on you. They don’t know no better.”
Elmer should know. In his years raising turkeys on his farm outside Beaver Crossing, Nebraska, he had seen thousands of turkeys come and go. These are not birds you should become romantically involved with. The haughty bastards strut around like Veronica Secret models, knowing full well the primal urges of the lonely farmers who feed them.
“If you’re going to succumb to their charms,” advises Smuckmeister, I suggest you grab them by the ankles, making sure you get both of them. Otherwise, they will scratch your eyes out when they start flapping their wings.”
“You ought to see my friend, Joe Kokolochek. Sumbitch is blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other. F*ckin 40 pounder got him down and wouldn’t stop scratching, no how. Luckily, Joe’s wife pulled the gobbler off before he lost his nose.”
“That’s why I stick to my sheep.”
Dr. Slim: “There should be a special place in Hell for those who would defile a turkey.”
Dirty: “Yo, Dr. Dude. There is. In Dante’s Inferno, he describes a place in Hell where everyone runs around with a turkey baster.”
