Enjoy your blerma, but save some to-hibrazelle for California.
I have aspirations of attending three feasts today. Sarah says it's impossible, and we can only make two. No, Icarus! Do not fly so high. Surely your turkey wings will fail you, and you will plummet to your demise in a tryptophan-induced slumber. Eschew such brazen fantasies. Moderation is the way!
She's right, but a boy can dream. You can't rollerskate in a buffalo herd...
I think this will be the first in a new and exciting tradition of marking all holidays with cryptic, utterly nonsensical posts.