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Thanksgiving DinnerThank you for the Brussels sprouts Tepid, limp and giving gas, And my in-laws, chiefly louts, And the turkey that, alas, Roasted dry from dawn ‘til dark Now resembles Joan of Arc; Thank you for the stuffing with Celery long past its prime, A bolus or a fecal lithe Digestible by Christmastime, And the shimmering glob of cran- Berry taken from a can.   For the football games I’m grateful, Simians of thought devoid, And my neighbor and his hateful Talk about his hemorrhoid As the would-be politicians Fulminate on foolish missions. Father up above, we thank Ye For the proof we should not need: Life doth leave us sore and cranky, Miserable in thought and deed; Let us never misconstrue That true Joy resides in You.

We hope you will join us in The Imaginative Conservative community. The Imaginative Conservative is an on-line journal for those who seek the True, the Good and the Beautiful. We address culture, liberal learning, politics, political economy, literature, the arts and the American Republic in the tradition of Russell Kirk, T.S. Eliot, Edmund Burke, Irving Babbitt, Wilhelm Roepke, Robert Nisbet, Richard Weaver, M.E. Bradford, Eric Voegelin, Christopher Dawson, Paul Elmer More and other leaders of Imaginative Conservatism. Some conservatives may look at the state of Western culture and the American Republic and see a huge dark cloud which seems ready to unleash a storm that may well wash away what we most treasure of our inherited ways. Others focus on the silver lining which may be found in the next generation of traditional conservatives who have been inspired by Dr. Kirk and his like. We hope that The Imaginative Conservative answers T.S. Eliot’s call to “redeem the time, redeem the dream.” The Imaginative Conservative offers to our families, our communities, and the Republic, a conservatism of hope, grace, charity, gratitude and prayer.

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5 replies to this post
  1. Nicely done!

    I must say, though, you need to try Thanksgiving dinner at our place sometime. Here, the brussels sprouts are never limp, the turkey never dry, the cornbread/biscuit dressing has not a hint of celery, and the hollandaise is first rate. Lunch is served around 1. All we ask is that you help clean up after. 🙂

    BTW: leftovers include smoked-turkey Eggs Benedict, a dish not to be missed.

    Happy Thanksgiving!

  2. My dear Bultitude! What a surprise after so long! Thank you for your kind comments and typically generous invitation! I presume you’ve crossed the pond after our chum Clive wrote you up in “That Hideous Strength,” and I hope you’ve forgiven him for omitting to mention your writing talents; that was a regrettable oversight but he meant no harm. You always set a tip-top table, surpassing even the best of our mutual ursine and human friends, so I doubly regret not joining you this year (recall that delicious salmon you caught in Scotland and prepared yourself? I’ve forgotten the names of those witty bears from Dorset and the Cambridge antiquary). Do you still see Merlin? If so, do give him my warmest regards. Last I heard he had followed or preceded you, and was a visiting professor of Early British Languages at a small college somewhere in America (I think Tolkien got him the job before he relocated beyond). Meanwhile, a z happy Thanksgiving to you and the missus and the cubs, fondest wishes, ever yours, etc. SJM

  3. Family Dinner

    Let the brine-ed bird appear!
    Let the ‘Wurtz,’ uncorked, start flowing.
    Extract stuffing, gravy… Here!
    Eat! And when, then, are you going?

    Cherished siblings, use the knife
    On the bird I spared from burning.
    It’s for eating, not for strife,
    Or the back at times I’m turning.

    Let us dine in peaceful pleasure,
    And suppress each life-long spat.
    Let the cattiness I measure
    Be restricted to–the cat.

    Good! It’s over! Let the bruising
    Of our memories begin.
    Say which egress you’ll be using!
    I’m done pouring, but say ‘when!’

    Thank you, Lord, for food, warmth, grace.
    (When I pray, folks, do not pout!)
    Tolerance waxes with space.
    Thanks for coming–now GET OUT!

  4. Thank you for the kind acknowledgement, plus your own skillful devotions to the Laughing Muse.

    Christmas comes, get out the presents,
    Brew a jorum, something hot.
    Surely no sane person resents
    The approaching juggernaut!

    Head down, brave commercials’ chatter,
    As you would the tempests’ bite.
    Send the cards, make cookie batter,
    Labor long into the night.

    Get the tags off, so receivers
    Will not find how gifts were priced.
    Best ignore the true believers
    Nattering on this fellow, ‘Christ!’

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