Pepper spray, a Taser, a suckling pig and a self-built motorized

Jamie Hyneman, master of invention and mischief, once declared: “Pepper spray, a Taser, a suckling pig and a self-built motorized spit. It’s a perfect Thanksgiving, MythBusters-style.” These words, delivered with his dry wit, reflect not only the spirit of experimentation for which he is known, but also a deeper truth about creativity, tradition, and the joy of reimagining the familiar. For Hyneman reminds us that even the most sacred rituals can be reborn with imagination, and that true celebration is not about blind repetition, but about the spirit we bring to it.

The origin of this saying lies in the world of MythBusters, the television forge where myths and legends were tested with science, ingenuity, and explosions. Hyneman and his companions became known for transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary, often with humor and spectacle. To describe Thanksgiving in terms of weaponry and mechanical contraptions is not to mock the holiday, but to show how creativity can transform tradition into something playful and unforgettable. In his imagery, the feast becomes an experiment, the kitchen a laboratory, and the family table a stage for invention.

History too has always married celebration with innovation. Consider the great feasts of the Renaissance courts, where engineers designed elaborate mechanisms to present roasted animals as though they were still alive, or fountains that poured wine for guests. These spectacles were not necessary for survival, but they elevated the feast into memory, blending art with ritual. Likewise, the ingenuity of Hyneman reflects a lineage of humans who refused to let tradition become stagnant, choosing instead to infuse it with creativity, wonder, and even a hint of danger.

The suckling pig on the motorized spit stands as a symbol of this inventive spirit. To some, it may seem excessive or absurd, but to others it reveals the joy of building, of creating something with one’s own hands, even if for the sake of a single meal. The pepper spray and Taser, though outrageous in context, serve as reminders that laughter and surprise can coexist with reverence. For what is a holiday if not a mingling of solemn gratitude and shared joy? Hyneman’s vision of Thanksgiving may be eccentric, but it still holds the essence: food, fellowship, and fun.

We may recall, too, the story of Benjamin Franklin, who in his experiments with electricity shocked not only himself but also his contemporaries, blending science with spectacle. Yet Franklin was also one who sat at humble tables, giving thanks for the simple bounty of life. In him, as in Hyneman, we see the joining of curiosity and gratitude. To experiment with joy is itself a form of thanksgiving—for it says to the universe: “Life is not only to be endured, but explored.”

The lesson here is not that one must bring pepper spray or machines to the family meal, but that one should bring imagination and play. Tradition is strongest when it lives, not when it calcifies. Each generation must add its own flavor, its own creativity, to the rituals of the past. For some, this may mean a new recipe or a new story told at the table. For others, it may mean turning the holiday into a stage for invention and laughter. What matters is not the exact form, but the spirit of gratitude and connection behind it.

So, O listener, take Hyneman’s playful wisdom to heart. Do not fear to remake your rituals, to add invention to tradition, to let humor mingle with holiness. Build your own “motorized spit,” whatever form it may take in your life—be it a new idea, a family game, or an act of creativity that brings delight. For Thanksgiving, and indeed all of life, is not meant to be a rote performance, but a living festival. And when gratitude is joined with imagination, the feast becomes unforgettable, a memory handed down like a legend, shining with both love and laughter.