I’ll tell you where they come from - here. I am surrounded by hundreds of turkey farms. the ragged white feathers of domestic turkeys blow through my yard, into my mailbox, my mouth and tomato cages. and reeking airborne molecules of turkey excrement often hang in a haze around the towns in Sanpete valley. sometimes this haze is visible. here are some turkeys in my neighborhood, in my neighborhood.
I’ve deliberately delayed posting this until after the holiday so nobody gets any ideas about political timing events or overly-punctual news releases. it’s too late and nobody wants your vote anymore. if you know anyone who ran for office, will you please tell them to come clean up their big signs now. wouldn’t it be embarrassing if Jesus came and your name was up all over the place, printed on corrugated plastic.
and this is where all the magic happens: the turkey processing plant up the road from where I live.
look around a little, it’s all here:
- the turkey/egg paradox
- tertiary sources regarding Warr with the Heathen Natives and digging a pits for neighbors
- Mexicans are to turkey processing as Koreans are to dry cleaning
1 comment:
You can't polish a Turducken.
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