I hope this missive finds all my friends, clients and their families alive and in better health than some unfortunate folks in the world.  My “family” of Veterans is far more closely knit than most with a job like representation. I get a lot of LRRPS, Dustoff crews and even the occasional SEAL. How cool is that? I get calls from clients at 0500 Hrs who don’t know what time zone I live in. It’s not a problem. Unlike a lot of legal firms who do this, I try to answer every phone call or email.  Shoot. It’s not like there’s some magic, trained chimpanzee named Mojo running around here willing to be my receptionist.  

For Thanksgiving this year, Cupcake informed me we would spatchcock the turkey and throw it on the barbie with Kiawe chips. Which I did. Funny you can go 71 years, be an avid hunter and never hear the term spatchcock.  With the advent of phone cameras, I was easily able to immortalize this technique for all of you. I just knew you’d be mesmerized by the subject. You cut along both sides of the backbone and remove it completely. As a side note, I suggest you make sure it’s completely thawed before attempting the two-handed CPR maneuvre to break the breast bone and flatten it. You can see where you could mess up your wrists if it wasn’t. No. I didn’t. Ours was never frozen.

The finished product was rescued in the nick of time. I do a lot of chicken and cut them in half. A five-pounder is done in 32 minutes (16 X 2). Extrapolating, I went for 24 on each side and came close to turning it into a mummy.  The beauty of spatchcocking, if there is one at all, is everything gets done at the same time or close enough that  you don’t find that questionable pink-colored meat near the orthopedic intersection of the thigh/drumstick (patella?).

From all of us to all of you, I can’t thank you enough for entrusting me with your claims for benefits. I reckon I’d disadvise entrusting me with your turkey, though. For those of you extremely ill, it truly feels like being on a mission from God emotionally. I lose four or five of you a year during the pendency of your claims and appeals. It just revocalizes the immortal, redundant Veterans’ refrain of “Delay. Deny. Until we die.” And boy howdy let me tell you. VA runs your spouse through the ringer for months trying to decide if she truly is the surviving spouse and not some cheesy, ex or a Welfare queen looking to score. I had to do a notarized common law marriage statement once so don’t laugh.  Colorado, Iowa, Kansas, Montana, New Hampshire, Oklahoma, Rhode Island, South Carolina, Texas, Utah and the District of Columbia all still allow it.

I must say that some of you fellers are prolific husbands and manage to become ‘Henry the VIIIs” like the old song. I count two marriages personally, including the current one, but I’ve had a few folks where I had to add an extra page to the 534EZ to list them all.  No offense, but that’s an incredible amount of ball and chain. Just saying.

Speaking of turkey, if I remember back about 52 years, I can almost recall the absolute worst tasting product to ever come out of a c-rats can. Spam ran a far second to this stuff. My sister had sent me a few of those small Tabasco™ bottles which were worth their weight in gold to tame meat… or camouflage the taste. It really compliments well-aged water buffalo. Don’t leave home without it.

Enjoy this day and this season. This is one of those Carpe Diem days. And if you are attending a Thanksgiving NFL football game today, please rise and put your hand over your heart when the National Anthem is played.  There’s a Black Granite wall in DC with 59,494 excellent reasons why you should. There’s 400,000 more across the Potomac in ANC. God Bless America.

Section 12 of Arlington National Cemetery, Arlington, Virginia, Oct. 29, 2018. (U.S. Army photo by Elizabeth Fraser / Arlington National Cemetery / released)

And that’s all I’m going to say about that.