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While I am not an advice columnist                  per se (a Latin phrase meaning "purse"), most advice                  columns simply require using common sense, and I can certainly                  fake that. So, since this is a week in which many people have                  Thanksgiving-preparation questions, I am here for you with my                  faux (a French term meaning "best") advice: 
Dear                  George, what is the best temperature/time combination to cook                  the perfect turkey? Sincerely, Perfectionist in Pasadena.
Dear PiP: First of all, there has                  only ever been one perfect turkey, and that was Jesus's turkey,                  so get over it. Many people like to cook a turkey for five hours                  at 325 degrees, but I have never been a "follower."                  So I put my turkey in at 85 degrees last Labor Day. I haven't                  checked it lately, but I am sure it will be great for Thursday.                  It is too late for you to do this, so just buy a really big chicken                  and a lot of wine. 
Dear George, my mom and stepmother                  are not on speaking terms, but I have to invite them both. How                  should I deal with seating arrangements? Signed, Flummoxed in                  Fontana. 
Dear Flum: Seat them right next                  to each other. This will make it easier for you to hear the Cowboys/Jets                  game. 
Dear George, I turned 18 this                  year, and now that I'm a man, my mom wants me to carve the turkey.                  I have no idea how. Signed, Turkey Trouble in Temple City.
Dear TT: Now that you are 18, your                  mother will start asking you to do a lot                  of things you don't know how to do, like grow up. The key here                  is to proudly take the carving knife and proceed to cut slices                  which are alternately transparently thin and as thick as a "Harry                  Potter" book. To cement the deal, bust a huge sneeze on the                  bird too. Guess how soon you will be asked to carve the turkey                  again. That's right. 
Dear George, is there such a                  thing as "too much pie"? Sincerely, Curious in Covina.
Dear Curious: I am often asked                  if there is such a thing as a stupid question. I have always said                  no, but I stand corrected. Dude, the concept of "too much"                  pie is like the concept of "too many" black olives on                  your fingertips. No way. 
Dear George, what is the most                  appealing centerpiece for my table? Sincerely, Decor-deficient                  in Duarte.
Dear Dec: The centerpiece of your                  festive table is the most important element in your guests' enjoyment                  of the holiday. I would go with two flat-screen Sony Bravias set                  back to back facing the long way down the table, so nobody misses                  any part of this meaningful celebration of America's team. 
Dear George, my hipster aunt                  from Santa Fe and her husband, the Reiki healer, have made it                  clear they won't set foot in my home unless I provide Tofurkey                  with Ancho chiles. What the heck is that? Signed, Stressed in                  San Berdoo.
Dear Stressed: Tofurkey is a tofu-based                  meat substitute. Anchos are dried Poblano chile peppers grown                  in the Central Mexican state of Puebla, famous for their sweet,                  mild paprika flavor, moderate heat, and a hint of jalapeno and                  tobacco undertones. What were you, raised in Antarctica? 
The main thing to remember Thursday                  is that a long time ago, Indians helped white settlers survive                  the winter, and in return the white man showed them how to completely                  cover their land, ocean to ocean, with Jiffy Lubes. Ask any Indian.                  Before us, it took for-freakin'-ever to lube. 
You're welcome, Indians. You're                  welcome. 
 
