Run Turkeys ... Escape ...

 While there's still time ... however there's not much time left. Thanksgiving is Thursday so turkeys everywhere if you get the chance ... flee ... run for your turkey lives ... the gobbler you save might be your own. Granted most of those encouraging words are just a little too late. Most of the Thanksgiving turkeys had their heads and entrails removed weeks ago. Plucked, gutted, sliced, diced, and ready for turkey fryers wherever. Of course the fair populace of them eatin' birds are incredibly braindead and that is by agribusiness design. Turkeys that are smart enough to avoid slaughter are wild turkeys and once upon a time Ben Franklin insisted that the wild turkey be made our American national symbol. Of course the wild turkey was outmaneuvered by the bald eagle. I'm certain all that was about money as would be any damn decision made in America ... money is the name of the American game and always has been. Sorry cousin Ben, wild turkeys haven't a chance in hell as would be for agribusiness farm raised turkeys. If you've ever wondered about where all those Thanksgiving turkeys come from well, hitch up the family wagon and head for Moroni, Utah ... turkey agro-farming barns are damn near everywhere. Did you know that most of those already mentioned turkey entrails are rounded up and sent to fertilizer producers and producers of shit that is for the most part left unmentioned. The American people really don't need to be informed as to what, exactly, is in the processed foods or their makeup and an enquiring mind can fill in a turkey guts blank. Hot dogs? Yep, turkey guts are in there along with animal scrotums and lips. Leftover hoof meat, anus muscles, ligaments, arteries, veins, and oh yes, nothing from the animal agribusiness goes to waste. None of it. Happy holidays everyone ... tis the season for ... for ... ummm ... some silly ass shit. Now for Sunday machine art. 

avant -

peachy -

cop 30 -

manny kin -

tribal -

angry -

algernon -

adds up? -

did you know that the first Thanksgiving feast with the pilgrims and Indians that carries so much historical accuracy, not really, featured venison, oysters, lobster from Maine, and assorted nuts and berries plucked fresh by happy to oblige First Nation people that were wholly unaware of the god damnable future that was barely peeking over a nightmarish horizon. pilgrim's pride is actual and for real genocidal, ethnically cleansed, and historical bullshit. served on a brioche bun with Martha Stewart's very own hollandaise sauce. 😐