For Calling Birds

Once upon a time there were two turkeys – they did not know one another.

One lived in Oklahoma and the other lived in Connecticut.

They were deserving turkeys, born and bred and fed for Thanks giving.

The two turkeys each became connected with a church, by a thread of religion.

They were each prepared for giving thanks, and each traveled on a path

to a church where they would be donated to a deserving religious family

that was poor and would not have a turkey for giving thanks if none

were donated to them, this deserving household, so that they could eat

gravy and smashed potatoes and bread and roasted turkey skin and

feel good on that special day set aside for everyone to say "Thank You."

The Church that was fortunate and wealthy, a church in Vermont, was

prepared to donate a turkey, and other holiday stuff, to a needy family

because the church was a committee of religion-minded people who

wanted to do the work of The Lord, and who understood the importance

of giving something to people who had little or nothing, in order to

produce some semblance of balance or justice or fairness or goodness

in the world.

However, it so happened that the two turkeys traveled each on a fortuitous

path and their two paths crossed and they were on their way, unbeknownst

to them, to the same poor household.

And further,

there was a rumor among the members of the religion committee and the

general population who lived in the village of Home Cooking that there

was a problem taking shape in the clouds that floated over the village.

It had been said, with great trepidation, that the family scheduled to

receive a turkey for giving thanks were in fact not deserving.

And this was a weighty problem because among religious people

one must be deserving in order to receive anything that falls from

the clouds or out of the righteous ass of The Church.

ON TOP OF THAT, a horrible mistake was discovered that shook

the village to its seeds: there were TWO TURKEYS on their way

to the undeserving household, which was an injustice wildly

unacceptable to the village fathers.

The village mothers quietly agreed with the village fathers.

This error needed to be corrected in order to avoid the profound

injustice of a turkey for giving thanks to fall into the hands of

the undeserving.

Holy Shit.

There once was a man named "James."

There once was a man named "John."

They were good men and clearly deserving of turkeys, gravy, clothing,

a car, a living room, a swimming pool and a lot of other good stuff.

But they did not like secrets.

They especially did not like secrets of significant information known to

the government and withheld from the people who were deserving

of the truth.

John was killed by a secret killer who was protected by twenty-two

murders and five accidents and a thousand lies because

The religious committee of America the Great decided that the people

were not deserving of the truth, the truth being like two turkeys

for people who have not been hired by the agribusiness, or by the mining

business, or by the manufacturing business, or by the banking business,

or by the retail business, or by the transportation business, or by the

toy business, or by the entertainment business, or by the super duper

giant incredibly destructive weapons business.

Not even the crooked business.

Not hired by a business means not deserving.

Two fucking turkeys?

But the two turkeys were not fucking.

One of them was even frozen,

and both of them were female, which had not come into vogue yet.

So this was the sad state of the world, two turkeys for giving thanks

on their way to an undeserving household, and two men dead because

the people were adjudicated to be undeserving of the truth.

Woe was us.

Next there was a man named "Malcolm" with an X.

He ran around telling the truth about history and stuff

and he got connected with a foreign Religion Committee

and they, "they" being someone, killed Malcolm

because Malcolm was going to get elected to public office.

Malcolm spilled the truth like a pot of hot soup on the king's shoes.

Again on another upon once time there was a lady warship named

"Turner Joy" on patrol in the South China Sea.

"Turner" is a common name for girls in Texas, Looseanna and Missora.

Turner was originally "Turnover," but that had connotations both

fattening and unseemly, and therefore probably undeserving.

"My little turnover" became Turner, followed by "Joy" deemed

an appropriate name for a ship of the class "destroyer."

Miss Turner Joy became offended, and her crew of white sailors.

A brown canoe, armed with spears and arrows, attacked the

Destroyer Turner Joy and scratched her bounteous bow,

which was deemed to be justification for a battle and a war

against a skinny country that was not deserving of the South China Sea

and the oil and gas that might be hiding under the water,

for which two-million and fifty thousand men, women and children died,

all deserving of a nice day.

Soon after there was a man named "Martin" who used to dream

and was very good at inventing stories about love and peace,

but he was murdered as usual by one man acting alone because

he was worried that Martin was not deserving.

Martin was a good public speaker,

and he liked to tell people the truth,

which is a very dangerous habit.

Soon there was a man named "Robert" who was associated with

the idea of justice and the word "justice" carved in stone,

and he was killed by a man who did not like the color of his tie.

Still there was the man named "Malcolm" with an "X" who wanted

justice and the truth and he was killed because a lot of women

secretly desired to go on a date with him and eat steak and potatoes

with chocolate cheese cake for dessert.

Malcolm had the wrong religion and the restaurant was closed

and he did not have a reservation.

Neither did Geronimo.

So the two turkeys were distressed when the day for giving thanks

came and they were roasted separately, far from one another,

each in their own deserving roasting pan, with brussel sprouts and carrots

and placed on the table of deserving people for thankful eating.

The world was in order, and the Religion Committee was at peace,

and another problem concerning the truth cropped up because

a man in Babylonia was believed to have a golf club that was

just as big as the golf club of President Twig.

And we had another war that was scheduled for four

weeks and fifty million dollars but got fancy and stretched

out to four years and two billion dollars and caused a rainfall

of toxic smoke and burning secrets, missing money,

missing people, and a lot of suffering supervised

by two Religion Committees who only had the best interests

of all the people who were deserving, at heart.

And then there was another war based on secrets

that lasted twenty years and caused a lot of suffering

for men, women and children, and death,

hard to keep secret, dead bodies and maimed bodies.

Not much of a secret, is it, warfare, welfare, deserving.

It's a good thing we have God to correct all of this crap for us.

We don't deserve all this injustice and things for which we

most certainly do not wish to give thanks.

I mean I don't deserve this secret destructive mess.

I don't know about you.

I hope you are not one of those bastards

who got two fucking turkeys.