Arr, me mateys! Fire ye up those grills for grillin’ this here balmy Christmas, aye, and look about smartly buccaneers as Planksy, yer favorite pirate turkey, hands out me “dranks” and “planks.” Another season for me to open me treasure chest fer those who made right by me pirate code. A couple or twelve cups of rum fer yer aboard me ship, hornpipes playing, the tappity tap of feet on the wood deck. Tis the reason, fellow pirates, tis the season. Avast. But yer bilge rat, landlubbers, well, lads and lasses, yer get me planks and a little dip with the toothy fishes.
Dranks. Me first dranks go to all the Republican candidates for POTUS, a barmy, smarmy lot of landlubbers with enough bombast to sail me ship into eternity. The Donald, Cruzy man, Bush the III, Hucksterbee, ol’ Doc Carson with a book to peddle, all rapscallions taking out the GOP debate after debate after debate after . . . Arr, I say we create the biggest, the most awesome stoooopid lies, er, wait, come aboard, mateys, get yer dranks. Keep yer beaks yapping, go yappers, yap it up. Media alert.
Planks. How about me first planks go to none other than U.S. Sen. Jim Inhofe for his rascally shenanigans over the climate change accord ratified in Paris, France, me mateys. Ahoy, batten the hatches, the rising sea levels makes me Oklahoma trips more stormy than me timbers a shiverin’ these days. Arrr! Inhofe calls global warmin’ all a hoax, but me eyes and beak say otherwise. The scientists, smartly as well, say otherwise. Inhofe’s beak emits smarmy chum and bilge rat, ahem, droppins’, but the toothy fishes crave more, Jim, they crave more.
Dranks. Me dranks go to OU President David Boren, aye. While the diddlers diddle, he’s trying to solve the Oklahoma education funding crisis. This hearty buccaneer is actually DOING something, not wasting his beak by dropping anchor on the ways of yore even while the bilge rats crawl smarmy out of the woodwork with yer can’t do attitude. For one penny, at least something can be done. Yer get me rum from Planksy Reserve Barrel 680, prez, and a crew of hearty fowl, sailors to the core, pirate turkeys galore and forever, await yer orders, sir.
Dranks. Me last drinks go to the bird with the gobbler of dreams. Gobble, and they shall come, buccaneers, gobble and the world is yer oyster. He stands bold and wise in the crow’s nest as he scans the horizons with his beautiful browns. Arrr, you guessed it. Me last dranks this holiday season go to none other than yer favorite pirate turkey, me, meself and I, Planksy. Cheers, mateys. I hope yer grilled tofu and veggies go well with yer grog and cups of rum this year. Happy holidays, bird lovers, and remember there’s no fowl in embracin’ yer own inner pirate turkey this season. Arrrrr! Happy holidays, aye, Merry Planksmas.