Hi, it's me, Karl.
I'm guest blogging today. Back in the cretaceous it didn’t snow very much. But, every now and then it would. It was kind of fun when I was little. I could slide down hills with my brother. Being a dinosaur, I just had to turn over on my back and go. It was lots of fun.
We didn’t have Thanksgiving back then. But, I remember one year there was a fire and we came along and found some dinosaur that got itself trapped in a canyon and burnt to a crisp. That was my first taste of cooked dinosaur. It was positively delicious. From that day on, if I ever saw smoke, I headed toward the fire, hoping I’d find something mother nature had cooked for me. Sometimes I did and sometimes I didn’t. But there was always that hope. I wish I’d understood more about how fire worked. I would’ve started up a dino version of Denny’s and really cleaned up. Predators would have some from miles away to eat cooked dinosaur that you didn’t have to fight with to get it to die. But, who knew?
Nowadays, folks just drive down to the diner or go to the grocery store and get what they want to eat. It’s great, though I sure wish they sold triceratops at Kroger. Every Thanksgiving I find myself thinking about the fire cooked one I had 60 million years ago. I guess it’s comfort food and we all think back to our youth. For some folks it’s cherry pie. Others think back to that roast or ham in the oven. For me, it’s that smoldering triceratops that I long for. Well, I’m not likely to find any. But I’ve got this catalog full of sausages and yule logs and I guess that’ll have to do.
Until next time.