One of the many stories I have never been able to sell is “why Thanksgiving is a food writer’s most-hated holiday.” As I am probably repeating myself to say, never does so much effort go into reinventing a wheel that rolls itself. We rewrite the Kama Sutra every goddamn year, and readers are totally happy with the missionary position: turkey breast up, guests face-down in overloaded plates. I’ve done my duty for this November and can now lean back and relax contemplating the hoops others are hopping through: Serious Eats is working itself into a lather with a countdown on a meal that really, come on, is the fucking easiest of the year. And USA Weekend had to trot out Sorta Slim to push a menu focused not on flavor but calories. Maybe I’m a math dunce, but 1,211 calories for a feast sounds downright abstemious compared with your average Blooming Onion. Cutting to 682 on a holiday seems mean enough to send the Puritans right back onto their boat. What is most insanely stupid about a feature like that is that the last Thursday in November is the one day most Americans actually eat well, with not just good protein but the full complement of fruits and vegetables. My big fear is reincarnation, but sometimes I wish I could come back as a culinary archaeologist to wonder why Americans would obsess on the calories in a once-a-year feast. It’s like angsting over the carbs in a Communion host.