Why is Thanksgiving on Thursdays? Aren't we supposed to "Thank God It's Friday"? Are we supposed to thank God twice in the same week? I think that's a little overboard, don't you?
It's a little tricky for me to give thanks on Thanksgiving anyway. Oh I'm flooded with gratitude, especially when I've just been flooded, but the problem is, I practice Christian Science except for all the doctrines and beliefs, and that insane "no doctors" thing, and Mary Baker Eddy's idea of God wasn't a being you could talk to, like a Gay Best Friend. Rather, she defined God as Principle, Mind, Truth, Intelligence, Spirit, and a lot of other crap like that, and it's practically impossible to tell just what the hell she meant.
Reading Science and Health With Key to the Scriptures isn't much help, as it's completely incoherent, and suggests that it's authoress was thoroughly mad. Let's face it, the woman told people not to drink alcohol, so her judgment was terrible.
Other than the fact that I am a Goddess of the Cinema, I don't really know just what the hell I believe in. But if I believed in God, here's what I would give thanks for this year. And please, in my comments section, tell me what you're grateful for, provided of course, that you're interesting, witty, and funny. Or a hot man.
Things I am grateful for this Thanksgiving.
3. Male prostitution. (At my age, one has to pay for quality. Sub-thanks for the economic downturn. Hustlers have had to reduce their rates.)
5. My vagina, and every year, there's more of it to love.
6. My fans, especially the straight male ones, who aspire to star-screwing.
7. Gay men.
8. J. R. R. Tolkien. (I actually have no idea who the hell he is, but Little Dougie assures me this will get me lots of geeky nerd fans. I asked why I would want geeky nerd fans, when I'd prefer horny male underwear models, but Dougie says geeky nerds love Internet blogs. Anyway Viggo, call me.)
10. My clitoris. Getting her pierced was the smartest thing I've done.
11. Hugh Jackman
12. Colin Ferrell's colon.
14. That I'm still breathing.
16. Gerard Butler.
17. Gay porn.
18. Softcore gay porn with Gerard Butler. (300)
19. That guy who plays The Green Arrow on Smallville. Justin darling, you can store your shaft in my quiver anytime.
20. Surviving the Bush presidency. We should have known better than to let a Bush run the country. My bush has been running me for a century, and look at the job she's done!
21. TCM. Turner Classic Movies keeps me alive to a new generation of obsessive fans. I just wish that bastard Robert Osborn wouldn't introduce each of my films with, "Unfortunately, we're contractually bound to run this Tallulah Morehead turkey. Brace yourselves." At least he is more complimentary on Sundays, when he says, "Good news movie fans, this Tallulah Morehead movie is silent, so you won't have to listen to her hideous voice." Thank you darling. ("TCM" are also my initials: Tallulah Clytemnestra Morehead." Co-incidence?)
23. Edgar Rice Burroughs. He created Tarzan. I've been holding auditions for the role of Tarzan here in my home, whether the part was being cast or not, for almost 50 years, and nothing in my entire career has ever given me greater, or more frequent, satisfaction. If you are an even remotely plausible choice for the role, please feel free to come by my home, Morehead Heights, mounted ever less firmly astride mighty Tumescent Tor, north of Malibu, any Saturday afternoon, undressed to impress, and give me a shot. And as far as I'm concerned, Tarzan can be black, so you well-equipped black gentlemen who'd like to shatter the stereotype, don't be shy about showing me the goods. (Oh, and a note to that one-legged Englishman who keeps hopping up to try out for the part: while I have nothing against unidexters, indeed some of my closest friends haven't got a leg to stand on, nevertheless the absolute minimum supporting limb requirement for the role of Tarzan is three legs. Human tripods , move to the front of my spine.)
25. Scrotums and their magical contents.
26. That Ayn Rand is still dead. Ayn's demise is the gift that keeps on giving, which is more than she ever did when alive.
27. Senior Extra-Maxi Depends.
28. The memory of that one, unforgettable night, naked in the light of a full moon, atop magnificent Half Dome, taking a trip to Heaven on the tongue of Peter Lorre. Dear Peter, you aren't in Heaven. You were Heaven!
29. The memory of that one, unforgettable night, naked in the light of a full moon, in the raging surf of Lunada Bay, taking a cruise to Heaven in the tentacles of the Giant Squid from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. That libidinous mollusk could suck all of my erogenous zones at once! Squiddy dear, you aren't in Fish Heaven. You were Fish Heaven!
30. Peter Lorre again, for introducing me to Squiddy in the first place, when I asked him for a second date, and he said, "No, I think once was more than enough. You'd be better matched with our squid." How typically unselfish of him.
32. DVDs. They keep my legacy alive, and they pay me for doing those commentary tracks. Also, they have improved the porn experience tremendously.
33. Male Frontal Nudity in movies, the greatest advancement in art in 200 years.
34. That Barry Humphries is going to do another Broadway show next year, even if he's carrying the dead weight of Michael Feinstein. Barry Humphries needs Michael Feinstein in his show like a snake needs a shoehorn.
35. Personal massagers. The date who won't flee when he sees you in a good light.
36. HD-TV. My God, it makes porn look incredible!
38. Male nipples. Oh they do have a function. Do they ever!
39. Season 5 of Lost.
40. Jose Cuervo.
41. The Doctor Who revival.
42. The Sarah Palin memoir. Finally a book for people who hate books. At last that table with the short leg has stopped wobbling! And the reviews are such fun to read.
43. The weather in Southern California.
44. Johnny Walker.
45. Johnny Walker Red.
46. At last having a President who doesn't need to - ah - "overcompensate."
47. The memories (and DVDs) of WC Fields, the Marx Brothers, Mae West, and Laurel & Hardy.
48. The 40th anniversary of Monty Python's Flying Circus.
50. And finally you, my devoted readers. I live for you and you alone, and a good shag. Anybody up for sex?
So spend your Thanksgiving The Tallulah Way, and enjoy some great stuffing!