2013 Turkeys of the Year — Looking Back at the Best of the Worst

From politics to sports to education and food, the Texas gobblers provided pure gravy.



Hunter Todd,
Founder/CEO WorldFest International Film Festival

I do not like Obamacare, Ted I am.
Daniel Kramer
TURKEY OF THE YEAR I do not like Obamacare, Ted I am.
Sports Turkey of the Year
Gary Kubiak
Aaron M. Sprecher
Sports Turkey of the Year Gary Kubiak

We've got this great idea for a movie, and it's based on a true story: It's about this guy who runs an international film festival in a major American city. The festival, which has been around for nearly 50 years, seeks to showcase artistic endeavors from a variety of truly independent, unique filmmakers. Like, the festival is about more than movies — it's about promoting the city's "cultural tourism."

Our main character — he's named after the great biblical hunter Nimrod — is blessed not only with a nose for auteurs, but for danger. There are certain things that might appear benign to the average person but that raise Nimrod's hackles — cowboys in black hats; men who hang around railroad tracks while twirling their mustaches; loinclothed pygmy chieftains with bones through their noses. He's got a sixth sense for suspicious characters like that. (We need a strong and silent type for him, like Ryan Gosling in Drive, or Chewbacca.)

Okay, so we're nearing the end of the festival, and Nimrod is in a hotel conference room overseeing a scheduled lecture. There are approximately 200 people in the audience. Everyone's just going about their business, but it's quiet — too quiet, if you ask Nimrod. Then, just as Nimrod's extrasensory perception kicks in, he hears the wailing of a fire alarm. He's thinking: It's on.

After a few moments of confusion, the attendees depart to the lobby, where they're informed by hotel staff that it was a false alarm. As they trickle back into the conference room, Nimrod's Spidey-sense kicks back in. He sees an attendee he didn't notice before, a lone figure wearing what Nimrod likes to call a Muslim muumuu; the individual's head is cloaked, save for an eye-slit — like a pillbox gun turret. Sure, it's traditional female garb, but he understands that some terrorists are cross-dressers. And then, all of a sudden, boom, there it is: a motherfucking backpack. (Cue sound collage of ululating calls to Islamic prayer, ticking clock, screeching jets and, for some reason, an old-timey car horn.)

The backpack is visibly full, weighed down with...what? Could be anything, Nimrod knows. Could be books. Could be bombs. Could be bombs disguised as books. Could be books about how to build bombs and then disguise them as books.

Nimrod's thinking: This is it.

He can feel his pulse in his ears now. Only a few days earlier, some maniac had bombed the Boston marathon, killing three people and injuring hundreds. Is he just supposed to sit idly by while everyone in the room is blown to bits?

Everything he's learned about threat assessment, disarming improvised explosive devices and jihad comes down to this very moment. For a split second he can picture it: a crowd of cheering citizens gathered around him, pumping their fists, chanting, "Nimrod! Nimrod! Nimrod!"

Slowly but firmly, as if the lives of everyone in the room depend on it — because they just might — he commands the spectral figure to reveal its cargo. At first, the figure just shows Nimrod her festival-issued VIP pass, but he's not falling for it. As one of the festival architects, no one knows better than he does how easy those credentials are to forge.

Sensing that the jig is up, the interloper concedes: The backpack's compartments are unzipped to reveal several bottles of water.

Nimrod thinks: You win this time, Haji.

But at least he got his message across. It will be a dark day before a terrorist slips into his international film festival with a backpack full of dynamite. Your goofy getup won't get you a free pass on Nimrod's watch, pal.

Is he Superman? No, just a patriot. You don't have to call him "hero." Just call him Nimrod.

Let us now give thanks for these delicious turkeys displayed before us. They are sure to be a bountiful feast, and we honor their sacrifice. We just pray to Yeezus they don't give us ­indigestion.


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My Voice Nation Help

Have to go with the "Cruzader."  Sarah Palin must be proud of him.


The wonderful thing about libs is that while they may give a bit, a passing bit on Obamacare, they take off against any Pub, conserv, or Christian. Yet, Cruz actually fired up the BASE and apparently now , others on the evils of Obamacare. Sure Perry fouled up but he is still better than any Dem leftist and especially this infanticide babe, Davis. The real turkeys in the USA and probably TX are always utopian socialist Dems who attack the foundations of both our domestic and international security and try to undermine our heritage, history and values. 

FattyFatBastard topcommenter

So, Malisow was a dejected Kanye fan?

Props to at least admitting Obamacare is a debacle, so far. 

Rick Taylor
Rick Taylor

Then Obama is the turkey of the decade. Womp womp

Javier Gomez
Javier Gomez

Ted Cruz is definitely the Turkey of the Year.


@Javier Gomez While I agree with you, I think my nominated choice WINS!


@charlierock62 @eudemonist I did.  I noticed it included the line, "But this is the Houston Turkeys of the Year, and...", so was curious if Kanye was now a Houston turkey.

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