Intermittent Christmas


The trouble with Christmas is that it just comes around too darn often.  Seems like no time since it was here  and now here it is again.  The decorations barely have time to get dusty before it is time to drag them down from the attic again.  Wouldn’t everybody enjoy celebrating a whole lot more if we could do it less often – say, every other year?

Wouldn’t it be great to have a year off – a year when we didn’t have the pressure and stress of gifts to buy, decorations to put up and money to spend, spend, and spend?  The official line we get is that merchants depend on Christmas spending for a large part of their yearly profit. Without it, they would all go broke. And we buy into this well-contrived merchandizing scheme and rush to join the traffic jam at the mall, as if there is no next year.  A large part of the consumer excessive indebtedness is probably due to over spending for Christmas.

Everybody complains about it – but like the weather and country music, nobody does anything about it. Think how nice it would be to know that we had next season to look forward to instead of a season to hurry up and get through.  I know you’re thinking I have the wrong attitude here.  I need to relax and just back off.  Hard to do when the dang Christmas cards start coming (Was this person on my list?), the office party is announced (Sign up to bring a covered dish.), holiday party invitations come (RSVP please), and commercials on TV urge us to “Buy now!  Get it in time for Christmas!”

With the greed festival beginning three months early the way it does, there is too little time out. Call me a scrooge, but I’ve cut back my celebrating in self-defense.  No more of this deck the halls to the hilt stuff for me. I’ve reevaluated my priorities and decided my sanity is worth more than buying unwanted gifts for similarly pressured other folk.   What happened to Christmas spirit?

Celebrating every second year would be better.  It would give us a breather.  No need to do away with the holiday entirely, just observe it less frequently, that’s all.  There are, of course, other possibilities.  Some advocate returning to the simple celebrations of times past.  Others advocate the giving of homemade gifts.  Still others suggest that we celebrate the religious aspects of the season rather than making it into a commercial buying fest of life changing proportions.

Only the really true scrooges among us say tear the month of December off the calendar and just do away with it entirely.  Once a tradition is established, it seems difficult to regress back to the way things use to be.

I have thought and thought about it. I’m not so anti-Christmas that I want to do away with it, though the temptation to just say “the heck with it” is great.  The intermittent Christmas seems like a perfect solution to me.  Celebrate every two years instead of every year.  We can still have our celebration, but we don’t have to indulge so frequently.

Yes, I think I could learn to live with an intermittent Christmas. Merchants undoubtedly would launch a lobby and protest due to deprivation of profit.  The warm, fuzzy folk will probably rebel and celebrate anyhow like the veterans did when their holiday was changed .

I have re-evaluated my priorities and attempted to simplify my own observation of the holiday.  I really abhor what Christmas has become.  I have tried to make it a season of doing, rather than a season of buying.  Even so, the materialistic expectations of others can be difficult to deal with.

I know it will never happen, the Christmas-less-often idea.  But I can dream, can’t I. And you can be sure of one thing – I won’t be dreaming of a white Christmas…. Except on alternate years, perhaps.

Copyright 1999 Sheila Moss
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Death of an Angel


As I sat staring at the blank computer screen, I wondered what I could write about. It had been a wretched day. It was really hard to think clearly tonight.

In another room of the house, my grandson was playing by the Christmas tree while watching a cartoon special on television with his mother. Suddenly, there was a loud crash and then complete silence. It was too quiet. I forgot about my computer and, tiptoed in to investigate.

My daughter was on the phone, distracted in conversation, when my grandson decided to play with the porcelain Christmas Angel. We don’t know exactly what transpired after that. We do know that the angel failed to survive. She lay broken into pieces on the coffee table, and my three-year old grandson was hiding behind the Christmas tree.

“I sorry gran’ma,” he said, sobbing.

I picked up the broken pieces, hoping it was not as bad as it appeared. It was. The angel was gone. Her music box would never be wound again with loving hands. She would never again tinkle a musical “Silent Night” as she twirled round and round on her pestle. She would never again bring Christmas joy or happy smiles.

The angel lived with us for a lot of years. I’m not even sure how many. I had her when my own children were small. She was unpacked each year at Christmas and carefully put away at the end of the holiday season. My young children delighted in her each holiday season as they held her in their tiny hands and listened to her music play. All through the years, they had always handled her carefully and she had never been broken.

Each year, the Christmas Angel stood on the coffee table in a place of honor, watching over our home. Many times, including this year, I had considered placing her up high where little hands could not reach. “No,” I always reasoned, her purpose is not to go untouched. Her purpose is to play music and bring joy to children at Christmas.

As I held the broken pieces in my hand, I felt strangely calm. In spite of my sentimental attachment, the angel was only a music box, an object. People are what is really important – things are not.

As usual, there were many questions. Why had we not been more attentive? Why had we not put the angel in a safer place? Why did the child decide to play with an object that was supposed to be special? It was difficult seeing it broken.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. It can’t be fixed.”

Broken angels, like broken hearts, are never really mended.

My grandson, still afraid, was peeking out from behind a chair, waiting to see what would happen to him.

“It’s okay, honey – it was an accident.”

I really could not feel any wrath. To break the heart of a child by scolding him for mishap is a far worse thing than a broken Christmas Angel.

My daughter now sits cross-legged in the middle of the floor, still trying to glue the pieces back together. My daughter has not yet learned what I know after so many years. Broken items are never the same again and will only continue to remind us that they have been broken.

There will be another Christmas. A music box can be replaced. But a child only has one heart.

Copyright 2001 Sheila Moss
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Planet Christmas


“Welcome to Planet Christmas where it is Christmas 365 days a year!”

“Is this for real? How can it be Christmas every day? Everyone knows that Christmas comes only once a year, on December 25th.”

“Not here it doesn’t. We have December 25th on our calendar 365 times.”

“But, what about the other holidays? Don’t you miss having other holidays to celebrate?”

“It happened so gradually that we sort of adjusted to the idea a little at a time. First we started celebrating Christmas on Thanksgiving. Instead of shopping on Black Friday, stores opened on Thanksgiving. Shoppers loved having the extra day and so it soon became traditional.”

“Where I am from, we are beginning to go that way also, but I don’t think we will ever get to the point of celebrating Christmas every day.”

“That’s what we thought too, but it is amazing how quickly traditions can change. Would you care for a cup of eggnog? You don’t have to wait for Christmas as it is already Christmas. People love Christmas. They love giving and receiving gifts. So, why wait? We give gifts every single day of the year.”

“How did it come to this? I mean, we start earlier and earlier every year too. It used to be that shopping started right after Thanksgiving, and then right after Halloween. This year I saw Christmas trees going up in stores at the beginning of October.”

“That is exactly how it happened here. Soon we forgot about October and November completely and the other holidays fell one after another like dominos. Who really cares about other holidays anyhow? They are only something in the way of the big holiday, the one all the kids are waiting for. And if anyone wants turkey and a pumpkin pie, they can have it any day they want.”

“Do you have Christmas trees here?”

“Of course we do! We keep our Christmas tree up perpetually. Some people grow them as potted plants and others have artificial trees. It is so much trouble to decorate a tree, why have it for only a week or two? And the colorful lights are so beautiful. Did you notice all the lights? You can’t really miss them. We never take our decorations down.”

“Well, this is all very strange to me. Don’t people get tired of it? What do you do on REAL Christmas?”

“Which ‘REAL’ Christmas are you referring to? They are all real here.”

“But don’t your merchants count on the Christmas season to put them in the black?”

“Are you kidding? Imagine, only one shopping day before Christmas every single day. They love it!”

“So you shop every single day, or what?”

“At first people were not sure which Christmas to spend their savings on or when go into credit card debt. But now instead of buying other things, we buy only gifts: White Christmas gifts in January, chocolate Christmas gifts in February, clothing Christmas gifts in the spring, Christmas wedding gifts, Christmas gift vacations, Christmas back to school gifts, Christmas birthday gifts, and Christmas gift cards if you run out of ideas. It all works out.”

“So, it was the commercialization of the season that caused people to start celebrating earlier and earlier?”

“I wouldn’t blame businesses entirely. After all, if people didn’t come to pre-season Christmas sales, they would not continue to have them. By the way, what would you like for Christmas? I’ve got to do some last minute shopping so I will be ready for Christmas tomorrow and there is an after-Christmas sale at Macy’s today.”

“I think I must be dreaming.”

“That’s what we thought too, but dreams can become realities – unless you wake up.”

“Have a Merry Christmas!”

Copyright 2001 Sheila Moss

Posted in Holidays, Humor, Shopping | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Life’s Little Lessons about Christmas


  • Walmart is the gift shop of last resort for the entire the population of the U.S.
  • Christmas spirit is a mania created by commercial advertisers during October.
  • It’s the gift that counts – disregard any information to the contrary.
  • Christmas is not for children, it’s to give teachers some time off.
  • Never buy a live Christmas tree unless you are a cat.
  • Fashion experts say sweaters with Santa and holly are cheesy –  which shows what a bunch of scrooges they are.
  • The best things in life are free – but department stores didn’t get the memo.
  • Christmas gift bags and tissue paper are the best invention since peppermint candy.
  • Snow is best when left outside, but preferably not on the driveway.
  • The best time to shop for decorations is after Christmas, but who wants them then?
  • Regardless of what toy you want, the next shipment will not be until January.
  • Give children plastic gift cards and see how carefully they spend their own money.
  • There is always room for another stuffed animal – at least in a grandparent’s opinion.
  • Regardless of the number of parking places, they will all be taken when you get there.
  • Santa Claus really doesn’t care whether you are naughty or nice.  He has other things to worry about.
  • You always get Christmas cards from the people that you didn’t send one to.
  • There is no problem too great for a solution; however, there are many gifts too large for gift boxes.
  • Other people’s gifts to you always seem much nicer than what you gave them – and vice versa.
  • Silent night is something that happens on Christmas Eve to other people’s children.
  • Children’s TV specials are like Santa, on perpetual rerun year after year.
  • White Christmas is a phenomena invented by songwriters to make songs nostalgic.
  • There is no such thing as a perfect Christmas, especially if you forgot the batteries.
  • Contrary to popular opinion, North Pole is in Oklahoma, Santa Claus is in Indiana, and Christmas is in Florida. Depressing, isn’t it?
 Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
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Black Friday – In More Ways than One


Is it over yet? Is it safe to go out? I’m talking about Black Friday, of course, what did you think? On Thursday we are thankful for our blessings. On Friday we are thankful for bargains.

I’m sure you saw the ads for all the things that will be on sale: 40 inch flat-screens for $200, X-Boxes and iPods at ridiculously low prices. No, of course, I don’t need any of that stuff. I don’t even know what half of the electronics they advertise are. But what does that matter? Get out the credit cards. Buy now and pay later.

Most places are opening earlier than ever, some on Thanksgiving. I didn’t want to take any chances so I’ve been in line since last Monday. At least it seems like that. I considered bringing a tent, but I didn’t want to be mistaken for a protester. I would miss out on all the sales.

On Black Friday, capitalism rules. Greed is king. Consume, consume, consume, whether you need any more stuff or not. It’s the patriotic things to do. Support our merchants; keep Walmart and Target profitable. Keep Best Buy from going under. Don’t worry about who will keep you from going under.

I had my strategy planned. I made a test run the week before, routing out the path to the items I wanted most. I had on my running shoes and my sweatpants. I even had a parka in case of rain. I was ready to bargain shop.

This time I will stay out of the way of runaway shopping carts pushed by bargain-crazed housewives. I remember what happened the year my foot was run over. The shopper didn’t even bother to stop and check out the damage. My foot was blue for a week. So, what did I learn from that, you ask? I learned not to shop at places that have carts.

Everyone was waiting for the doors to open so we could charge. I was at the front of the line waiting for the doors to be unlocked at midnight. I still don’t know what happened. All I remember is dreaming I was trampled by a herd of elephants.

After I was done at the ER, it was too late to shop. But the stores open at 7:00 on Saturday. I’ve still got 15 percent off coupons and plan to buy as much as I can so I will save more money. I think I can get around well enough on my crutches.

Spending money is the best way to help the economy isn’t it? That’s what they keep telling us anyhow. I’m not worried about the economy getting worse next year. But in case it does, I want to get plenty of stuff now while I can.

Cyber Monday is coming and I can look online for all the stuff I didn’t get this weekend. Shopping online is not as exciting, but you can look for exactly what you need without being distracting by all the other stuff you want.

If have any credit left on my credit card, I will go back after Christmas and get all the stuff I found that I wanted for myself when I was buying gifts for other people. Everything will be on sale. I can return the things people got for me that I don’t want and spend any gift cards I have before they expire.

Now that I think of it, gift cards are not a bad idea. Maybe I will get gift cards next time and save all the gas, time, anxiety and energy of shopping. Oh, well, if they don’t like what I bought, they can take it back after Christmas and get something else.

When I see all the bargains, I can’t help myself. Only 30 days to shop between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Copyright 2011 Sheila Moss


PS: In case you were wondering, yes, this is satire. I may be crazy, but not this crazy.

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The Fried Turkey Tale


Dear Mom,

I hope you and dad are having a Happy Thanksgiving.  This year we decided to do something a bit different and fry our turkey whole.  I am in a newsgroup on the Internet that could not say enough about how great they taste fried.  I even got a recipe from one of the members.  It went something like this:

1 turkey plucked and gutted (Leave feet for holding turkey)
5 gal. bucket peanut oil
Extra large deep fryer heated to 500 degrees

That didn’t sound too complicated, and even though I’ve had several kitchen disasters in the past, I thought this would be a festive way to celebrate Thanksgiving.  Besides, we could do the deed outside on our wooden deck to avoid making a big mess in the kitchen.  What could go wrong?

I couldn’t find a turkey with feet at the grocery store. The butcher thought I was crazy and suggested I try one of the nice frozen one that was on sale. I figured a meat man should know, so I got one. Have you ever tried to thaw out a frozen turkey? It’s a weeklong job. I figured the hot grease would do the trick anyhow, so why worry.

Have you priced peanut oil lately? I decided some of the other stuff would work just as good. After all, cooking oil is cooking oil. I managed to get the oil in the pot just fine.  Heating it was a bit tricky as it kept smoking and bubbling.But since we were outside, I thought the smoke wouldn’t hurt anything.

Now this is the part you won’t believe! I threw that sucker in the pot and when the thing thawed out, the oil boiled over on the wooden deck and caught the deck on fire.  We got the garden hose to put it out. Who would know not to put water on a grease fire?

It didn’t really matter anyhow. In all the excitement I forgot to watch the cooking thermometer and the grease must have become too hot. I was inside the house looking for the fire extinguisher when I heard the explosion. Have you ever seen a mushroom cloud?  It was incredible!

After the fire department left, we decided to eat dinner out next year. Not only was our Thanksgiving dinner ruined, but the deck burned down and took half the garage with it. The dog will be just fine when his fur grows back. We’ve always wanted a Hairless Chihuahua anyhow.

The fire department told us they make a lot of house calls about this time of the year from people frying turkeys who don’t know what they are doing. Like, is it my fault that the grease was cheap and the stupid turkey wouldn’t thaw out? They need to put consumer-warning labels on turkeys.

Speaking of the turkey, we are still looking for it. I think it may have blown to bits as we’ve looked all over the neighborhood. If you see a turkey shaped cloud of ash circling the earth, that’s probably it.

By the way, you may see us on the evening news on TV. A lot of people thought it was a terrorist attack. I only hope we have not been reported to the FBI.

Anyhow, I just want to let you know that we are all fine. I don’t think the house will be fixed for a while since there is a lot of smoke damage. We are moving to a motel. Do you think we could come to your house for Christmas this year?

You were not planning on frying a turkey, were you?

Copyright 2004 Sheila Moss
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Plan Ahead for a Smooth Turkey Day


I saw an article somewhere with a lot of suggestions about how to plan ahead for Thanksgiving to make things go smoothly . It seemed like a great idea,
but the following is about how my planning ahead usually goes.

Day 1
– I think I’ll have everyone to my house for Thanksgiving this year. It will be fun to have the family all together! I have nearly two weeks to make plans, so I’ll get everything ready ahead of time.

Day 2 – Call and invite everyone and ask him or her to bring a dish. Mom will bring green beans, but is it okay if she just brings them in the can? Sis is on a diet and can only eat lettuce. Daughter will bring dessert since pumpkin pies are on sale at Kroger’s. Daughter #2 will bring a can of cranberry sauce. Son will be eating with his wife’s family first. Don’t wait dinner.

Day 3 – Where is the turkey roaster? I know I used to have one. I can’t find the meat thermometer either. How do you cook a turkey anyhow? It’s been so long I don’t remember. Do they come with directions? Good thing I’m planning ahead.

Day 4 – Make up grocery list. Rob a bank and then go buy everything I will need.

Day 5– Take turkey out of freezer and start letting it thaw. Only one week left until the big day!

Day 6 – Plan ahead for using leftovers. I’ll probably be stuck with 20 pounds of cold turkey. Try to find recipes for turkey hash, turkey potpie, turkey sandwiches, turkey soup, turkey salad, and turkey casserole.

Day 7 – Drag out all the good china that is packed away and wash it. Polish the tarnished silver. Maybe we could just use paper plates and napkins with a nice picture of a turkey next time?

Day 8 – Pumpkin-scented candles will make a nice centerpiece for the table as long we don’t forgot to blow them out and burn the house down like Aunt Maxine did a few years ago.

Day 9 – Do I have enough extra chairs? Oh, my, gosh! Let’s see, I can use the ones from the card table, the typing chair with wheels from the computer desk, the rocking chair from the bedroom, and the small stepladder from the garage if worse comes to worse.

Day 10 – Continue looking for stupid recipe book with sweet potato recipe and how-to-cook-a-turkey directions. Clean out kitchen cabinets and drawers. Finally find recipe book behind the pots. Oh, well, the cabinets needed cleaning anyhow.

Day 11 – Pray that glass dish with sweet potato casserole does not crack in oven after being in refrigerator all night. It was the only one I had that was big enough.

Day 12 – Thanksgiving – PANIC! Turkey is still frozen. Cook it with paper & giblets inside because they won’t come out. Fix instant stuffing from a box — no one will know.

Guests arrive and offer to help — after everything is done. The men only want to watch football on TV. The turkey sticks to the bottom of pan and won’t come out. The kids chase the cat and it jumps on table. Everyone fills up on the cheese ball and crackers and isn’t hungry.

Everything is ready to serve, but no one will come to table until the football game is over.

They finally eat, brag about how good the dressing is, and suggest that we do it again at Christmas.

I’ve started a holiday tradition.?

After I recover from my heart attack and restart my heart, I suggest that we
alternate houses and I offer to bring dessert. No one says anything.

After they leave, I put the battery back in the smoke alarm and feel thankful. No, not because it is Thanksgiving. I’m thankful because they are all gone, the potato casserole didn’t crack, I only have 10 pounds of leftover turkey, the football game is over, and I remembered to blow out the candles.

Copyright 2006 Sheila Moss
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Interview with a Turkey

turkey-birdGood day, Mr. Turkey. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us about life in the turkey shed and the approaching holiday season.

1. What sort of goals in life does a turkey have?

Well, I’ve been on a very strict diet lately. We turkeys have to really watch our weight at this time of the year or we could end up in hot water. My actual goal is to shrivel up to about the size of a feather duster.

2. Do you try to keep a positive attitude?

Oh yes, I’ve been lucky so far, made it though several Thanksgivings already.  Just have to hide behind the door when you see them coming with the meat thermometer.

3. Do you have any significant relationships?

Well, I’m not exactly a lovebird as I’m too old and fat to spread my tail feathers and strut. The missus does have some good-looking thighs, though, and plenty of white meat in the right places.

4. What do you think about the Thanksgiving holiday?

Well, I’m a vegetarian myself.  However, if you really want to know what being thankful is, visit the turkey shed on the day after Thanksgiving and talk to some of the turkeys that are still around. 

5. Do you ever think you would like to move to a place where they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving?

What I’d really like to do is be a guerrilla turkey, live in the wild, and carry a gun to protect myself.  They eat turkeys everywhere.  Some places just spread it out through the year a bit more.

6. Are turkeys the only animals with this type of situation?

No, chickens have it pretty rough too.  They are always in season.  So are pigs and cows… which are much more delicious than turkey, by the way.

7. How do you deal with the constant challenge of unpredictable situations?

The only thing unpredictable is when — and with how much cranberry sauce on the side. How would you like it, never knowing if you will be deep-fried, roasted, or made into lunchmeat?

8. Don’t you like being a turkey?

Well, I’ve never been anything else, so that’s a bit hard to answer.  I just wish those Pilgrims had never started this Thanksgiving stuff.

9. But, you must get a warm feeling from being wanted?

I try to avoid feeling warm, to tell the truth.  I’m afraid that if I get too warm it may be a bad sign, especially if it’s at 325 degrees.  Some days I have to check my popup timer just to be sure that I’m still alive.

10. Overall, would you say you are satisfied with your life?

There are a lot of things I’d like to accomplish before I go, like revenge against the meat industry, for instance.  But I try not to dwell on those thoughts.

12. Do you try to make a good impression on others?

Are you kidding?  I smoke cigars just to make me cough so they will think I’m too sick to slaughter.  I may be a turkey but I’m not stupid!

12. But, don’t you believe that a turkey that isn’t consumed is useless?

Useless? I’ll tell you what’s useless. This stupid interview is what’s useless. Just get out of my beak. You are starting to really ruffle my feathers.

Well, maybe we better call it a day.  I’ve got to hurry home and get ready for Thanksgiving.  All the relatives are coming, and… er… I guess maybe one of your relatives as well.

So… that’s it from the turkey shed, folks.  Thanks for the interview. Good luck, and I hope you will be around for a follow-up next year!

Copyright 2005 Sheila Moss
Posted in Creatures, Food, Holidays, Humor | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Old Stuff

womanWhen I looked in the mirror today, I seemed to be getting older and fatter. How can that be? After all, old age is something that happens to other people, not to me. The stiff joints and the aches, however, are constant aggravations that keep insisting that I’m not as young as I used to be.

Can it be that youth is something that eventually becomes obsolete? But I’ve always tried to fight the aging process, kicking and screaming – or should I say dieting and dreading?

Could it mean that I’m getting old when my kids start complaining about getting gray hair? It was only a few years ago that they were still at home, running inside sweaty and full of sand from the sandbox, putting sticky handprints on everything and forgetting to shut the refrigerator door. How can it be that my daughter says she found a gray hair yesterday and pulled it out? Oh my, it can’t be that long ago.

I can’t even remember the onslaught of my own gray hair. Of course, I’ve always tinted my tresses to what the advertisements tell me is a more attractive hue. The years just keep going by while I stay exactly the same – at least that is what I thought. The makeup has become a bit more of a necessity and a bit less of a frivolous luxury, but I am rather glad that the oily skin problem became a dry skin problem. At least I don’t have to worry about zits any more.

The fine print is more and more difficult to read and deciphering it is almost impossible to see unless I wear my eyeglasses, regardless of how much I squint. Why is the print on medicine bottles so small anyhow? There ought to be a law. I’m fought the small print conspiracy for a while with contact lenses. But alas, I’m beginning to lose the reading glasses battle even with contacts. I’ve always had crummy eyesight, though, ever since I was a kid. It couldn’t be old age, which is something that happens to other people.

It is probably the settled life and absence of activity that has caused my hips to widen and the food to settle in different places. I used to be able to eat anything I wanted without gaining an ounce, in fact, I was always on the thin side. Then one day I looked down and saw them – thunder thighs! I don’t understand. Why me?

Other people seem not to be fighting obesity nearly as hard as I am. From the looks of the leftovers that came to the office in lunches on Monday morning, some people must spend all weekend frying chicken. I’m determined, however, not to be a member of the herds of baby elephants that get on the office elevator with their big behinds and big lunch bags.

In spite of watching my diet, the small, insignificant aches of younger years are becoming more accentuated, and I am always wondering what will start hurting next. Creams, pills, and vitamins have become a way of life. A certain amount of arthritis is a constant companion, though not a welcome one.

Hormones keep away “the change” while I dread the day the doctor decides I am getting a bit too old for them. Hormones are the fountain of youth, the giver of smooth, elastic skin, the keeper of femininity. It is not the loss of the ability to procreate that seems so dreadful. God knows, I’ve given my share to the population explosion already. It’s just that these creeping wrinkles must belong to someone else. Old age is something that happens to other people.

I’ve accumulated more possessions than I will ever use, and wonder why I ever wanted all this stuff anyhow. Yet, I keep hanging on to my “stuff,” afraid to let go.

I don’t mind the birthdays that keep rolling by, even though I have quit acknowledging them. It is only that I used to be able to go shopping without becoming tired. Now my knees hurt and I need to go to the restroom. But, I believe I can hold back age a while longer with enough pills and makeup.

I’m still almost positive that old age is something that happens to other people. I can’t possibly be just like everyone else.

Copyright 2001 Sheila Moss
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Turkeys Unite!


Turkeys unite! It’s time to panic! They are killing us by the millions. We must run while there is still time! Look around you – do you see any turkeys that you knew a year ago?

They are breeding us to increase the size of our plump white breasts and meaty legs. Did you think that your fine physique was merely a gift of nature? Thanksgiving is just around the corner. Millions will die.

Run! Escape while there is still time! We can no longer fly like our wild forefathers could; therefore we must run, no matter how hard it seems. Three hundred million of us will be consumed in a year. We can stop this slaughter of the innocent if we act now.

They have taken away our hormone and steroid injections to keep us weak. They are artificially inseminating our females because we have grown too fat and tired to do the job ourselves. Our hens are being turned into egg machines. When they lay 88 eggs and are totally exhausted, they are sent to market.

Do you think you are free just because you are allowed to run loose in a poultry barn? Are you happy merely because you are not kept in a cage? Wake up, turkeys! They want you to be happy – happy and fat!

Don’t touch that corn and soy meal! They are not being kind to you. They are fattening you up for the kill. You have been bred selectively to have white feathers so your skin will not have spots. Forty-five million of us will end up on the dining room table. Our hens are even more likely to be sent to the ovens than male turkeys.

Does that mean male turkeys are safe? Hardly. Tom turkeys will end up as processed lunchmeat, turkey ham, turkey burgers, or even as pet food. You will be consumed not only during holidays, but all year long. They like you because your meat is low fat and mild tasting. Don’t you deserve better than this?

So, you think you can flee to another place, another country where Thanksgiving is not celebrated? Wrong! Other countries eat our kind too. Israel consumes more turkey than the United States. France and England also have a hunger for fowl. Actually, no place in the world is completely safe.

We must flee! It is time for panic! We must act while there is time. Escape any way you can. They will not expect you to be hostile. Use the element of surprise. Remember that you have beaks and claws, even if they have been trimmed. Do not be fooled and think that you are safe because you have food, fresh water, and a roof over your head.

Turkeys are true American birds. In the tradition of America, show them how we can fight against injustice. We must let them know that turkeys have rights. We must become activists in our own defense. Feathers may fly, but we cannot be deterred until justice is served (instead of us). We must flock together for the sake of our unborn poults in the incubator.

No bird is safe, especially at this time of the year. Rally together now. Let ‘em eat cranberries. Let ‘em eat sweet potatoes. Let ‘em eat anything but us!

This year let the turkeys have something to be thankful for.

Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
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