Ted Wilson Reviews the World #112

By

THANKSGIVING, 2011
★★★★★ (3 out of 5)

Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing Thanksgiving, 2011.

Normally I spend Thanksgiving with my family, but this year I accidentally spent it with some other family. I was trying to drive to Medford but ended up in Bedford. Both towns have the same exit number (31) and are each home to a very similar looking brown house.

When I entered the home, I didn’t immediately recognize anyone, but there are always new friends and family members at Thanksgiving, so I didn’t think too much of it. One guy kind of looked like my cousin Larry but with a weird haircut. And there was a lady who looked sort of like my nephew’s ex-wife at a glance. It was when we all sat down at the table and a “tofurkey” was served that I began to worry I was in the wrong house.

When I asked what a tofurkey was (I was hoping it was a turkey stuffed with toffee), a woman who vaguely resembled my sister asked, “Who are you?” “Uncle Ted,” I replied, hoping no one would catch on. And they didn’t, but I think that was because they were distracted by the SWAT team that entered the house. It turned out the residents were growing marijuana plants in the basement.

Guests began shouting at me, accusing me of being a narc. The temptation to agree with them was strong. I’d wanted to be a narc ever since I saw Richard Grieco on 21 Jump Street, but I couldn’t lie on Thanksgiving.

I asked the police officer who handcuffed me what a tofurkey was but he told me to shut up. Although I missed seeing my family, I was thankful for the adventure and that no one pushed me to the ground of shoved a gun in my face.

Please join me next week when I’ll be reviewing dandruff.


Ted Wilson is a musician, good friend, and widower. His website iamtedwilson.com features all of his reviews (even the banned ones), exciting videos, a live interview with Ted on the radio, and interviews with some of the world's top celebrities! More from this author →