Ah yes, it is that time again. The smell of roasting turkey and cigar smoke and Polo cologne, perfume like florid gasoline. Copious forced laughter that sounds like geese mating in a broom closet. It is Thanksgiving dinner at the Bush White House, where the guests mingle as though their genitals were being squeezed by manic elves, as if they were all coated in vanilla pudding being licked off by Pat Robertson. Which, truth be told, some of them seem to enjoy. A lot.

[ Wow. I'm not too mature to enjoy crass mocking from time to time, so that part was entertaining, but the last paragraph is where the meat is. Thanks be given indeed. -k]

Scenes From A Bush Thanksgiving / Dubya pouts, Cheney scowls, no one brings pie -- and why is Rove looking at Barb that way?