The Turkey Returns

He’s back, after a near-death experience.

This blog has been comatose, for which I apologize. ???? ????? I’m here to explain why and what we intend to do about it.

Until recently, I had been involved in negotiations for the sale of the nittanyturkey.com domain, this blog, and all of its past content. Those negotiations have broken down, and this Turkey is happy. The price was reasonable for the buyer, and it was flattering to me that someone thought my work was worth five figures. ?????? ?????? However, eventually, I felt that the Nittany Turkey was worth far more to me than it was to the purchaser.

Not only were they wanting all the rights to the domain name, the blog, and its contents, but also they understandably wanted me to curtail my use of the name Nittany Turkey, in Twitter, Facebook, and wherever. However, from my perspective, I am the Nittany Turkey, and have been since I developed the concept in the 1980s.

Furthermore, I was to refrain from using any of the content that I had produced through the years. You all know how much I love to reach back and pat myself on the back (occasionally) or kick myself in the butt (frequently). Who else could possibly produce the Official Turkey Poop Predictions?

I wanted to write, but I did not feel the need to write if my work was going to appear in another form or disappear completely; hence, the hiatus.

For me, writing is enjoyable and therapeutic. ????? ?????? I need a vehicle where I can express my thoughts and share them with like-minded individuals, as well as those with contrasting views. Facebook is fine for bitching about the travails of daily life, re-posting articles from elsewhere as conversation fodder, and getting into political arguments, but I still need a place of my own I can call home and write whatever the hell I please. (Having been “unfriended” recently with great ceremony on Facebook over some of my finer sarcasm by someone whom I thought was a friend underscores that need, but I digress.)  To establish a new blog, traveling through all the stages between infancy and adulthood would require a significantly outlay of time, energy, frustration, and last and probably least, money.

It is time that is the real issue — not in the sense of pecuniary compensation for its expenditure, but instead its quality as the universal equalizer. It is the one thing of which nothing and no one short of miracle cures and assassins can give us more or less. We all have what we have. At my age, I have far less of it than I had when I was 25, when I would have undoubtedly jumped at the offer to buy the blog. It just did not make sense to me to start over.

This sounds a bit egocentric, and indeed it is. I and the Nittany Turkey are intertwined like gray paint and navy ships. Given all that has happened at Penn State over the past year or so, I’m doing my share to provide some constancy in a rapidly changing Lionosphere. While I’m not narcissistic enough to think that the world would shun the Nittany Turkey if I were not at its helm or would miss it if it did not exist, making believe that those notions are at least somewhat true is what keeps me going on.

In addition to my focus on Penn State football, which is almost upon us once again, we have an important presidential election coming up, and the sitting White House is pulling out all stops to maintain its power. In the resurrected personage of the Mouse Who Ate Xanax, I will undoubtedly be writing about that and other political issues as we march on to the November showdown. Other popular topics of the past, such as Medicare and the AARP will be reprised in these pages from time to time as well, and I’ll devote more time to humor, which we all need to get through this hectic postmodern life of ours. Who knows? Maybe I’ll do another “What I Did on My Summer Vacation” series, starring the Cupcake. (I’d like to take her to visit some colleges this summer, between her junior and senior years in high school.)

I thank you all for your patience during my lengthy hiatus. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise after all of the sordid and tragic events of the fall and winter at Penn State. I do miss Joe, and I still believe that Beaver Stadium should bear his name as well as Colonel Beaver’s. We’ll no doubt be talking about that, too.