A Scientifical Case for Reincarnation

Thawing turkey

Some folks say reincarnation ain't scientifical. Applesauce! Reincarnation is real, and all of us have seen the perfect example of it year after year. What am I talking about? I'm talking about turkey. You know—that overgrown chicken that everyone loves to shove down their gullets every year at this time. We buy a turkey, prepare it and eat it for Thanksgiving. How you prepare the bird depends on what you like. For example some people prefer to roast their turkey while others want to grill it or smoke it. Some folks deep fry their birds. When all of the guests are gone, the family that bought the turkey has to deal with the question of leftovers.

Folks are creative with leftover turkey. They use it to make sandwiches, casseroles, soup, turkey a la king. As we get further away from Thanksgiving, they use it in mystery meals. Every year, people think of new ways to go cold turkey.

Thanksgiving turkey

This rehashing goes on for several weeks after Thanksgiving. Turkey sandwiches show up on the midnight menu. Turkey casserole shows up the Monday after. A week later, it’s turkey soup. This goes on until we don’t want to see turkey again for another year. Yesterday, the turkey was a bird. Today, it’s a sandwich. Tomorrow, it's soup. It was reincarnated.

Every time I talk about reincarnated turkey, some hotshot asks “Did the departed turkey go to heaven or hell”? I don't care to answer such a ridiculous questions. If I had to guess, though, I'd say that turkeys want to avoid both places. In hell, everything’s roasting; in heaven, they're always having a feast. I wouldn’t want to be a turkey in either situation.

Even with reincarnation, the turkey shows up on someone's dinner table every time it comes back. Why do turkeys have to pay such a high price for us to say we’re thankful for this, that and what not? You know, I feel sorry for turkeys. We gobble them up like they were nothing. Just the same, I don't plan to stop eating the big bird.

Half-eaten turkey

As for the usefulness of the turkey’s body after death, it's undeniable. Even if you don't eat the whole thing, it's going to be useful to something. Some buzzard at a landfill will have a delightful time feasting on any turkey you decide not to eat. What the buzzard doesn't eat, the maggot will enjoy, and so on down the food chain. The turkey comes back again and again in different forms. That, my friend, is reincarnation.

Now you may ask how I know all of this turkey talk is scientifical. In fact, you may be saying that all I’ve done up until now is use stories for my evidence. Well I’m here to tell you that's all I need. Any story that backs up my point is just fine.

Since we’re on the subject of science, let’s talk about what it means. I’ve been told science is based on repeated observation. Do families come up with different ways to use their leftover turkey every year? Why yes they do! In fact, it’s been going on for quite a long time, hasn’t it? Is it not a repeated observation that turkey comes back in many forms every year? Why yes it is. I’ve just established the case for reincarnation.

Another scientifical principle is the use of test groups and control groups to prove or disprove a hypotenuse. That's fancy words for a shot in the dark. One group eats a turkey and throws the leftovers away. That's the test group, and they flunked. The control group takes control and uses the leftovers for different meals as long as they last.

When they see that the turkey's no longer in their frigilators, the test group folks think that's the end of it. Little do they know that a group of buzzards at the landfill has transformed their turkeys into maggot surprise. When the maggots finish eating the turkey down to the bone, they turn it into droppings, which then become another feast for small, squiggly things deeper down the landfill.

Meanwhile, the control group turns the turkey into a variety of other dishes and do the same thing the maggots do. We ain't special in that regard. So, the turkey ends up becoming a bacterial feast, and then it becomes fertilizer for our crops, which ultimately make it into turkey food and back on our table. There you have it! I've made the case for turkey reincarnation with the scientifical method.

Every time you gnaw on a turkey leg, part of it is reborn in your gut. It may not be easy to recognize at first, but you change when you put that turkey in your mouth. At first, it just makes you yawn. Then, you sit down in your recliner and fall asleep and grow a little fatter. Some people get a lot fatter after gobbling down a thanksgiving turkey. I know I do. From the size of my pants, I’m pretty sure that lots of turkeys have been reborn in me.

Apparently, those turkeys had lots of dressing because I waddle everywhere I go. When you get older, you’ll find that the turkey repeats on you after dinner. If you eat a lot of turkey like I do, it can repeat on you for the rest of the day. I consider that a bad form of reincarnation. My doctor, a man of science, agrees with me. He looks like he’s downed a few turkeys himself.

Turkeys are a lot like old cars in the junkyard. You can tear them apart and put them back together again in completely different ways. And when that turkey finishes breaking down as much as it can, what’s left of it will become part of something else until it's completely recycled. Case closed!