The following autobiographical essay was sent to The Gabbler by Liberty, the turkey pardoned last year by President Obama. After receiving the pardon, Liberty was sent to live out the rest of his natural life on Mount Vernon, George Washington’s former estate in Virginia. The essay tells the story of how Liberty, a Republican turkey, came to terms with being pardoned by a Democratic president, and then went to live out the rest of his life at the expense of the American taxpayer.
Being a Republican turkey isn’t easy. I mean, sure, there are a few of us, but we, as a species, are naturally inclined to stick on the side of liberal vegetarian hippies. Because, well, hippies would rather have some nice, scrumptious tofurkey on Thanksgiving than roast one of us up. So, normally, as a token of our appreciation, we go blue.
But someone has to stand up for fiscal responsibility! And morality! And the traditional American family unit! I can’t just watch my core values being flushed down the toilet by this administration just because libs are less likely to think I’m delicious.
My story is a simple one: I was born into privilege. One of 30 turkeys chosen to be raised in Missouri, and trained to withstand the glare of the media’s camera, to not run in fear from throngs of onlookers, even to gobble on command. One of us was destined for greatness: a presidential pardon. The rest shared the destiny of all turkeys: a Thanksgiving serving platter. The chosen one would don the adorable name “Liberty.” After eighteen weeks of this training, I was chosen and at a mere nineteen weeks old I was granted a presidential pardon in November 2011. The only problem? I hate that commie bastard, Obama.
I’ve always said that I would rather be decapitated, plucked, gutted, roasted and served to a welfare family of four before I would let that commie save me. But, as it turns out, talk is as cheap as the clean coal technology that Obama has consistently denied funding. Because the minute they picked me-ME!-to hold the throne of Liberty, the pardoned turkey, I was in. I didn’t even mind when I was told that, Peace, another turkey from my class of 30, was going to be spared too. I also wasn’t really that surprised that two of us were spared, only to be put up in Mount Vernon for the rest of our lives. It was just like that Obama to hand out an extra pardon with no thought to the extra burden it would cause on American taxpayers. I mean, those pimped out turkey coops they keep us in for the rest of our lives aren’t cheap. I should know.
After I was chosen, though, I could sense that there was a lot of resentment amongst my fellow Republican turkeys. There was a lot of gobbling about how I had given up my ideals in the face of a slightly longer life. Slightly longer because, let’s be honest, I may have made it through the vigorous media training that comprised the first nineteen weeks of my life before the pardon, but it’s unlikely that I’ll see two years beyond my pardon with breasts this large. Heart disease isn’t just for humans. But I digress.
The point is, to all of those nay-sayers, those gobbling conservative turkeys who felt so betrayed when I accepted my pardon (all of whom ended up as the delicious main course at a Thanksgiving dinner, I might add), I didn’t sell out. Not really. I mean, sure, SURE, fine, I accepted a government handout, directly from President Commie Obama himself. I guess when you put it that way it sounds kind of bad, kind of out of step with the party line.
But the way I see it, from here in Mount Vernon, home of one of our greatest founding fathers, my seeming defection from the party line, from the orders to refuse to work with Obama even if it results in extreme bodily harm, was really just a reiteration of my core conservative principles. I mean, think about it! I was CONSERVING my life. Because I’m conservative like that. Get it?
Seriously, though, if that argument doesn’t work for you, let me assure you that, although it is true that I did accept an official presidential pardon from one Mr. Barack Obama, it wasn’t really that much of a handout, okay? I mean, I’m a major draw here at Mount Vernon. You think all these folks are stopping by just to see how Washington lived? I don’t think so. I have to strut my stuff every day to bring in the crowds. Being this pretty and this big while still somehow managing to move isn’t the easiest job in the world, you know.
The way I look at it, I didn’t really abandon my party; I just answered a call to service for my country. Okay, so I’m not exactly defusing bombs in Afghanistan or anything, but I still wake up every morning ready to serve—and not in the ready-to-serve sliced way most of my fellow turkeys find themselves. Plus, don’t you think it’s a little TOO coincidental that I found myself alive in a swing state for an election year? Voting booths don’t tamper with themselves.
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