Gobble, Wobble, Toilet Trouble


Gobble, wobble, toilet trouble … Guilty as charged; the preceding chant makes no sense — well, in the context of my pre-Thanksgiving article published in 2010. But now that I have your attention, and while your oxygen saturation is above ninety-five percent (compared with what it’ll be halfway through Thursday’s gluttony, er, dinners in the U.S.A.), feast your eyes on this.

I wrote the sardonic piece “Thanksgiving Travel Clause: Have Body Double, Will Fly” after viewing DePalma’s orgiastic paean to Hitchcock. “Really?” you ask while paring down your Thanksgiving guest list faster than a pastry chef spinning a Granny Smith in her hand. No, not really. Two years ago, after all the hubbub about the TSA’s latest body-search policy, I became infuriated that I was too broke to fly somewhere — anywhere — just for the pleasure of a pat-down. Geez, I hope you know I’m kidding.

This year I’m reblogging the post because I’m anticipating a succulent slab of white meat down my throat. (Now, now. I’m referring to turkey. What else? Getcho mind out the gullet and stop strokin’ that wattle.) Gotcha again. I needed a laugh and thought some of you might, too. Enjoy! And safe travels.

Blah-Blah-Blah-Blah Blog

Are the feathers going to fly starting this weekend!  And Black Friday might take on a whole new meaning next weekend.  I’m not referring to the annual mass murder of turkeys and to the supposedly biggest shopping day of the year.  I’m editorializing about the inevitable brouhaha among stressed-out air travelers who now are being subjected to the equivalent of body work — but without the happy ending.

Unless Superman is performing the full-body scans (and unless I’ve got more of a chance than Lois Lane at getting laid by the superhero), I’m squinting at the Transportation Security Administration’s idea of X-ray vision.  Hey, if an actor with a body that’s hard on the eyes anyway can demand that a no-nudity clause be inserted in his or her contract, then I want a body double, too.  If I can’t make like Melanie Griffith’s “Holly Body” between now and November, more firmly grounded than a teenager who’s run up a $500 cell phone bill faster…

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