I'm not really expecting a whole lot from this first column. All I want is for The Fleming File (It's new & improved, with a fresh lemony scent!) and my loyal band of (eight) readers to change Thanksgiving -- and the Internet -- as we know it. No biggie, right?

In the past, only Mr. High and Mighty Uncle Claude was allowed to carve up turkeys. Well ... NO MORE. This year, thanks to the Flem File's annual Sports Turkey of the Year awards, we are all gonna get a chance to open up a can of cranberry whoop-ass on the biggest sports doofuses of the new millennium.

To do this, however, will require something most of us try to avoid during the holidays: interaction. Here's the deal. This isn't my column. That concept is as old as granny's bean casserole. This is our column. Each week I expect you to read, rage, roar, reflect and react. I want you to think, I want you to link and I want your tolerance for rhyming to be pushed to the brink.

But first, sharpen those knives and get ready to chomp on the Turkeys of the Year. All together now: gobble-gobble.

Bob Knight. You might think $1.2 million is a lot for an autobiography, but actually it works out to just 50 cents per ugly incident.

George O'Leary. Note to Georgia Tech players: If you blow the Poulan Weed Eater Bowl, make sure someone else starts your car.

Dick Ebersol. If this Thanksgiving column were being brought to you by his sugary sweet, jingoistic NBC Sports crew, you might get it by Christmas.

Roger Clemens. This turkey confused a broken bat for a baseball. Now you know why he's not called The Rocket Scientist.

Mike Tyson. Overheard at the Tyson Thanksgiving: Please pass the corn, mashed potatoes, bread and little children.

Ryan Leaf. He says he'll pick up his Golden Drumstick Lifetime Achievement Award just as soon as he gets off his cell phone.

Daniel Snyder. Danny, quit turning up your stereo speakers, or Art Modell is going to ground you for a month.

Jai Taurima. This Australian turkey said cold weather in Sydney would most affect athletes with dark skin. He lost in the long jump, so the chilly temps must have only hurt people with half a brain.

Allen Iverson. Maybe Jai, Rocker and the Answer should get together and make a rap CD. They could call it, Pass the Mike ... Right Now, $#@!%!

That Olympic gymnastics engineer. He can put his Turkey on his desk -- at Firestone.

Manny Ramirez. And A-Rod, you too. The only people worth that much scratch are guys who write for The Pulse.

Marty McSorley. This guy gets suspended over and over for whacking people with his stick. That's not a career, that's a piņata party.

The BCS. Why can't we have a playoff? It's Because of the Cash, Stupid.

Keyshawn Johnson. What's the only difference between his trade and the one the Vikings made for Herschel Walker? Herschel kept his yap shut.

Timo Perez. Back in Little League, they called it base running for a reason.

Eric Dickerson. His bust in Canton has more personality than his sideline interviews.

Kevin McHale. Back-room dealings cost his team $3.5 million and five No. 1 picks. How long till the Clippers hire this guy?

Ed Belfour. Gave up seven goals in Game 1 of the Stanley Cup finals, then blamed it on cold medicine. You know, the nighttime-stuffy-head-fever-so-you-can-get-benched-medicine.

Out-of-control sports parents. Murder, assault and mayhem on the sidelines. What is this, Charlotte?

The entire U.S. 4x100 relay team. Take a bow, fellas. Next time just blow your nose in the flag and be done with it.

Okay, now it's your turn. Bring it. Use the poll at right, or send me an e-mail. I'll be naming a WHYLO of the Week, every week, in search of the answer to the burning question: Who Helped You Log On?

David Fleming, a senior writer for The Magazine, shares his off-center perspective each Thursday. E-mail flemfile@aol.com.