What did the Turkey order for dessert?

Peach Gobbler! If that's not a laffy taffy wrapper waiting to happen, I'm in the wrong business. Happy Thanksgiving everybody. I'm thankful to have you in my life. Especially you, current reader. So last night was all kinds of eventful. First I went to the Cavs game and witnessed a spectacular performance by LeBron James. He scored a career high 43 points as he led the Cavs to a convincing victory over the defending champion Detroit Pistons in front of a national television audience. He dazzled the crowd with an impressive array of "big jumps, hard throws and long guys" according to esteemed basketball analyst Kathy Cole-Kelly. I'm going to make a fearless prediction and say that LeBron is going to go down as a better than average professional basketball player. I know he's only 19 and this is just his second season, but I just have a hunch about this kid. Remember, you heard it here first- LeBron James: above-average player. While the game certainly provided entertainment aplenty, for me the highlight of the night took place at the ticket turnstiles. The guy in front of me in line took exception to the black female security guard's enforcement of new security measures that required everyone to show their cell phones and remove metal items from their pockets. After failing to cooperate and consequently being asked a second time to show his cell phone (of which he had two side by side on his belt-clip holster) this guy complained "this is ridiculous I'm an upper-class white Caucasian." Even after passing through the turnstile the guy still felt the need to repeat that he shouldn't have been subjected to such treatment because, again, he's "an upper class white Caucasian." This is what I wish I would have said to him at that moment: "An upper-class white Caucasian, sir? First of all, a pleather jacket and fake diamond studs in either ear do not an upper class citizen make. Secondly, referring to yourself as a white Caucasian is like me calling you a mentally challenged retard. It's idiotically redundant. Not exactly the level of verbal eloquence I'd expect from a member of our society's upper class." However, I said nothing. Partly because he probably would have kicked my ass in front of my mom and my sister, (and that would have been embarrassing) and partly because I didn't think of that response until this afternoon.

Later on last night I went to a local bar for the annual small talk convention with fellow high school grads from 1995-2001. My friends and I decided that these nights would be much more fun if brutal honesty was more socially acceptable. Rather than "good to see you" you could call a spade a spade and tell people "you look like hell," or "holy shit man, you've gained so much weight I hardly recognized you." Instead of inconspicuously asking your friend who that was you were just talking to for five minutes, you could interrupt said unknown mid-sentence and say "It's cool and all that you're thinking about moving to New York too, but remind me again, who the fuck are you?" Despite holding my tongue I still enjoyed myself. Some relatives have just arrived and I'm fending off accusations of being anti-social so I'm going to go, but maybe tonight I'll make a list of things I'm thankful for/of/betwixt. Until then, enjoy that poultry goodness.