There’s a new acting technique that’s been publicized. It’s called the Major Turkey. You go out to your front lawn and start acting like a Pilgrim during Thanksgiving. You set up tables; you set up chairs. Invite the neighbors. Tell them to bring a dish and to be thankful to you for inviting them. But you supply the turkey. Always supply the turkey. A turkey is the cornerstone of the American Holiday meals, so whosoever bringeth the turkey controls the dinner.

Everyone drinks, everyone laughs, but everyone’s curious. Questions begin to buzz about the reason as to why they came to this jovial affair. These questions become directed at you. You must keep your cool. You pull out a blank sheet of paper. But (this is where the acting comes in) everyone else thinks there’s something written on it. You declare that you’ve received an announcement that the government wishes to build a nuclear reactor just 500 yards away, and thus real estate prices will drop dramatically in the near future.

Watch everyone panic and weep. Gnashing of teeth. Spilling of wine. Dogs and cats fighting each other. Husbands and wives walking away with leftover plates. They start looking at their stock portfolios to see how that can help them out. After a couple of days pass and your neighbors find out the truth, they will hold you in a certain disdain. You won’t be invited to the neighborhood council meetings. They’ll form a watch group whose sole purpose is to watch you.

So my advice to young actors regarding this dastardly deed is to make sure if you do it, do it well. After all, you probably can only do it once, and if you pull it off with a flair, you’re in for one helluva good time. Cheers.