There could be drought, hail, hurricanes, and tornadoes. Plagues of locusts could alight and the sky rain frogs. The sun could rise in the west and set in the east and the Trinity River Authority build bridges over dry land. The Fort Worth City Council could try to outlaw gas drilling and the school board join hands to sing kumbaya — and there would still be an overpopulation of Turkeys in North Texas. If these birds were a field crop, the government would be paying people not to plant them. Yea, verily.
But lawd, lawd, do they all have to try to drive on I-35 at rush hour? Do the engineers really have to make the lanes both tiny and twisty at the same time? Have they ever measured the apparent width of 18-wheelers trying to negotiate the Grand Prix-like turns of those construction zones? Do they know the catastrophe they court by allowing interstate lanes to peter out with no warning, while motorists try to figure out whether to follow faded (non-operative) lane lines, asphalt patch lines or just go with what the guy in front of them does? These people do not really like actual motorists. Thus endeth the rant.
And after all, why complain? It doesn’t change anything, and besides, it provides us with another healthy crop of Turkey Awards, which we hand out annually as our tongue-in-cheek trophies. As always, governments figure heavily in these prizes, although college officials, gas drillers, sports figures, media types, and various civilian wingnuts come in for their share.
This year’s spread was compiled by Fort Worth Weekly staffers and freelance writers. We hope you enjoy them. But remember the traditional warning: We recommend consuming this compilation after dinner, with Rolaids at the ready. — Gayle Reaves