Opinion: Obligatory Turkey Post
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It’s a day early, I know, but tomorrow we’ll all be too busy prepping and cooking birds to read (or write) about them. If you haven’t heard, President Bush pardoned two turkeys today in what is an annual ceremony dating back to Harry Truman (though some say the tradition goes back to Abraham Lincoln’s time). Never mind that no records can be found of any turkey pardoning happening under Truman’s watch; in fact according to the Austin American-Statesman’s Window on Washington blog,
Truman, it seems, was more interested in turkey dinner than poultry mercy. From the Truman Library website: “The library’s staff has found no documents, speeches, newspaper clippings, photographs, or other contemporary records in our holdings which refer to Truman pardoning a turkey that he received as a gift in 1947, or at any other time during his presidency. Truman sometimes indicated to reporters that the turkeys he received were destined for the family dinner table.” Gulp.
That hasn’t stopped the last two administrations from turning it into a bipartisan tradition. This year’s delectable duo’s names are May and Flower. Last year it was Flyer and Fryer, and in 2003, Stars and Stripes. We only have ourselves to blame: The American people get to christen the turkeys online.
That’s not to say all presidents love this annual ceremony: Richard Nixon avoided the tradition, while defendants of unpardoned Ginny the Pig cry fowl: After all, it was oinkers, not gobblers, that ended up joining Pilgrims and Indians for dinner on that pseudo-historic first feast.
None of this answers the question, what crime did these birds commit? Was it the sin of their fathers, AWOL from the original meal? Or just having delicious thighs laced with tryptophan? (FYI: When it comes to sleep-inducing amino acids, turkeys are totally within the legal limit.)
Generally turkeys haven’t had much luck in American culture — not only are they slaughtered en masse every year for one night’s coma-inducing feeding frenzy, they were passed up for national mascot by a pest-ridden scavenger with a nasty beak.
These turkeys are stuffed with symbolism. They’re a tiny self-pardon for our willful annual avian massacre. As homage to America’s entertainment icon, they serve as Grand Marshall in Disney World’s Thanksgiving Day parade. They’re a great example of America’s love of a good show — though to be fair, this ceremony is probably less of a circus than many presidential press conferences.
It’s like American Idol, or maybe just the American Dream — even if you’re not an eagle, you can still make it to the top, instead of to the center of the table.
If you think May and Flower have it much better off than millions of their feathered friends, though, think again:
Because the turkeys are raised to be so large for the ceremony, they reportedly rarely live past the next Thanksgiving. After dying from natural causes, they’re buried at Frying Pan Park.
Death by luxury. How sad, ironic, and American.
Seconds, anyone?