Vol. 2 No. 76 Nov. 23, 2007

The Bogus Economist
Turkey



The most fun assignment I ever had in an English class was given to me by a gifted high school teacher named Elizabeth Force. It was Thanksgiving, 1944, and we were asked to write a story about the holiday from the standpoint of the turkey.

I recall writing about Mrs. Turkey's advice to her son, Tom, on Thanksgiving Eve: “Tom, this country is built on what is called 'The American Dream.' For millions of living creatures, this means that if you apply yourself, follow the rules, work hard and plan for the future, you will succeed. For you, however, the American Dream means that if you eat a lot and put on weight, especially around the chest and legs, somebody will pick you up, decapitate you, stuff you with dressing and serve you on a big plate to people who have applied themselves, followed the rules, worked hard and planned for the future. Good luck.”

These are dark days indeed for turkeys. Millions of people have spent hours dreaming of slicing Tom into strips and using their digestive juices to turn him into calories, but Mrs. Force's assignment has steered me in a different direction. What would Tom, the Bogus, think?

If I were the turkey, I'd probably spend time before the axe fell musing on what might have been. For instance, had Ben Franklin been a little more persistent, I, rather than the eagle, might have become the national bird. After all, I was far more “American,” having been around from the start of the colonies and, besides, I don't eat carrion which in my mind would put me in the same class as vultures and buzzards, including the turkey buzzard (no relation). The only drawback to having me as America's fowl would be in the opening of the Colbert Report.

If the turkey were to be America's national bird, there probably would be a groundswell of debate on state birds as well. There would be a demand for individuality. Oregon's Western Meadowlark is O.K., but why have a bird that's also the avian symbol of Montana, North Dakota, Kansas, Nebraska and Wyoming? How about being the innovative and inventive state we know Oregon to be? For a state bird, we could select the condor or the blue-footed booby, which would attract attention as well as tourists. Or how about the duck? If it's good enough for football, why not a whole state?

Consider how our menus might change. Since we don't serve bald eagles for Thanksgiving – and it's actually a crime to kill one – it would follow that serving a turkey (if it were the national bird) would be an act of disrespect. This means we'd have to find something else as a main dish for ravenous families. Condors and boobies are also protected species and the duck is a bird completely devoid of white meat. An ostrich has plenty of white meat, but the refrigerator isn't big enough for the leftovers. Ditto for the emu.

Other parts of the country would no doubt chime in with their own choices for Thanksgiving National Dish. Some of these potential suggestions can easily be discarded. Louisiana would probably vote for the crawdad, but the thought of one of these on a large plate, possibly holding a tiny sprig of parsley, is laughable. A Thanksgiving lobster doesn't cut it, ham has already been appropriated for Easter and carving up a buffalo is more of a chore than most of us would want. Beavers are inedible, even when made into beaverburgers. Pigeons are too small.

So how about a fish? The salmon is a logical choice. Picture a whole salmon, fresh off the grill, with orange or honey glaze, served with sweet potatoes and green vegetable. Is this something to be thankful for or not?

So let's get behind the Thanksgiving Salmon. We'll begin with a salmon television campaign, since this is plainly the best way to convince America to do something different. I suggest a Thanksgiving salmon debate, with representatives from each culinary school presenting recipes for the perfect way to cook the fish. By the time viewers find out all of them taste the same, we will have picked our next chief chef. Vote now, complain later.

Next, we should find a number of famous people, from different fields, to be videotaped smacking their lips over a King or a Coho. What being a champion wrestler or auto racer has to do with buying a fish is beside the point, but if it works for bathroom products, cosmetics and breakfast cereal, it should work for salmon.

Of course, this is all speculation. The salmon is not our national fish, the turkey is not our national bird and I am not a turkey, despite the opinions expressed in some of my mail. Folks are still going to sit around a table, carve up Tom (or Theresa), give thanks and get indigestion. After they eat, they'll split into two groups with one sitting in front of a large screen, drinking beer and watching people knock other people down, and the other in the next room talking about the people watching the large screen.

Me? I'm here – in the sandwich. Hear that, Mrs. Force?

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The Bogus Economist © 2007