Hey Fellow Vegetarians,

Let me just start by saying that I feel ya: turkey is straight up the devil -- you put it in a fire, it smells like feet...basically, everything you expect hell to be like if you believe in that sort of thing.

The overgrown pigeon is everything anyone talks about all day.

"When's the turkey going into the oven?"

"Did you get it from the same place as last year?"

"If the organic ones are smaller, does that mean that the large regular ones are aliens?"

"You left it in for too long!"

"Dang, that turkey smells great."

Day in and day out, it's what's at the forefront of everyone's mind -- it almost makes you think that the hunk of meat really is an alien that used a device to control the thoughts of your friends and family, turning them into ravenous beasts for what you consider to be a slab of dry, earwax-tasting substance.

That, or it's a god in their eyes - or maybe a cult leader -- who successfully pulled them all into its grasp with the aid of a silver tongue in the form of its "juicy smell" wafting from the oven of hellfire for hours on end.

You're probably expecting them to worship it in some way, but then you remember that there is a national holiday revolving around it, and "...yeah, non-vegetarians are nuts."

You almost want to shake them and tell them about all the other wonderful autumn dishes that could be the centerpiece of the meal instead of the crusty foot parakeet; all the Vegetable Shepherd's Pies, the Portobello Mushrooms Stuffed With Eggplant and Gorgonzola, the Pumpkin Pot Pies, the Swiss Chard, Sweet Potato, and Feta Tarts With Teff Crust, the Sweet Potato Gnocchis With Balsamic Sage Brown Butter, the Roasted Vegetable Galettes -- all the things you found in your quest of vegetarianism that taste better than they could possibly comprehend….but the truth is….you can't tell them about any of that.

The truth is, people don't really like turkey for its taste, for the most part -- it's the memories it holds under its wings of Thanksgivings-past that make them smile with joy. Cutting into the turkey's breast and savoring every bite reminds them of the hours they spent preparing the dish the exact way their parents did when they were kids, all so their new family could feel the same way. The small arguments over preparation aren't meant to come from a source of anger, they all just care so much about what they perceive to be the center of the holiday and what they love most about the traditions they shared in a happier time of their lives. The hallmark of Thanksgiving isn't really what they care about; it's what the turkey represents. Sure, it may look like it was left in the sun for three days in Argentina; sure, it may smell like grandpa let one loose one time too many near an open flame; sure, it may taste like complete and total shit, but they love it because it reminds them of their family and giving thanks.

That's kind of what the holiday is about anyways, right?

So, fellow vegetarians, let's make a pact: even if we feel like throwing up when we see them shoving vegetables up a dead bird's ass in the middle of the kitchen like some sort of ceremony gone wrong, we need to suck it up and smile, because who really cares. It's just a bird, and this is your family.

Now go munch on a roll and listen to your Republican uncle rant about the news -- it's just one day.

Happy Thanksgiving,