Date: Wed, 25 Nov 1998 20:16:12 -0500 From: Gene Chambers Subject: Re: [WRITERS] INT: The eMJay corny kewpie doll... Okay, so that glory-hog of a turkey is almost done, nearly ready to be emplattered, carried with great reverence to the festively furnished table, carved with near-surgical precision, and distributed to eagerly waiting, wide-eyed, would-be gluttons who have already filled their plates with all the taste-tempting trimmings: the burnt-brown-sugar-coated sweet taters, the red and deeply scarlet, quivering mound of cranberry sauce, white and buttery-whipped potatoes coated with browned gravy, softly juicy but firmly toasted stuffing. . . hot, melt-in-the-mouth, brown-n-serve rolls. So, here I sit, waiting, my dill-soaked inner flesh ready to follow all the above described triteness into the masticating mouths, ready to do my job, ready to provide the antidote to all the sweetness and light, ready to freshen palates for that nest bite, that next delicious morsel of the WRITERS feast. Yes, it's me, it's the lowly pickle, the sour condiment that provides needed respite from the boredom of perpetual serenity. You can do without me. . . sure; but why should you? Vote for Gene ===> for LIST CURMUDGEON! -----Original Message----- From: the rags of time... >Well, that didn't make much sense. Try it this way -- what simile, >metaphor, or other consideration might you build, based somewhere in the >Thanksgiving arena, to tell us about you? > >tink