Attitude of Gratitude 2024
If gay dolphins; a Moms for Liberty, threesome-loving hypocrite; talk of beer and fishing; and procreating with Ted Williams watching bugs you, read on anyway. It's Drew's Thanksgiving column!
By Drew Gallagher
HUMORIST
By Drew Gallagher
(Author’s Note: I am writing this column before the Presidential election because I want to remind myself of what I am thankful for in the year 2024 without political undertones. Plus, if Trump won, there is a very real chance that bed-wetting liberal humorists will be shipped to a newly-created gulag in Alaska, and I won’t have access to my computer or the internet. At least then I’ll be able to regale my labor camp mates with Flock of Seagull lyrics every time the aurora borealis comes in view, comes in viewwwwwwwwwwww. I’m sure my fellow political exiles will love me!)
I have learned over the course of 2024 that writing a column for 52 straight weeks is no easy feat. Trying to be humorous for 52 straight weeks is even more daunting. I’ve also learned that writing the periodic column that is nothing more than listing items—say, for example, what I am thankful for in 2024—is an easy way to make a deadline while I try to think of something funny to write about next week.
Without further ado, WHAT I AM THANKFUL FOR IN 2024:
— Threesomes! Especially those involving Moms for Liberty founders who are on Florida School Boards trying to ban books while engaging in same sex relations that are anathema to her and her very public anti-LBGTQ stance. I guess the thought is that school children should not be offered windows through literature to explore questions about sexuality and find meaning in life, but their school board members can engage in such behavior as long as they close the blinds.
— My editors, Marty Davis and Vanessa Sekinger. (I was going to list them first, but I figured threesomes would actually get some readers to read a bit further in the column.) Marty was the one who thought my next incarnation as a writer should be humorist, and, hopefully, he does not regret that decision and his liver tests come back within the acceptable range. Vanessa reads every one of my columns (and book reviews) and probably wonders why I have such disdain for proper use of the comma. (Sometimes you feel a little bit Oxford, sometimes you don’t.) One of my first conversations with Vanessa as my editor was while I was sitting on a barstool at Adventure Brewing, and she called to ask about construction of a particular column and not to question my insistence that I had never thought of a threesome. It was very professional of her.
— Leigh Anne Van Doren, who is publisher of the Advance and probably does more behind the scenes of this operation than this humorist will ever know. She also founded Fredericksburg Parent and Family magazine 25 years ago! Think about that accomplishment next time you are paging through one of her magazines at the allergist’s office or at the vet while you’re waiting for your pet to get their annual shots. She founded a publication that has been in existence for a quarter of a century in Fredericksburg. I once did book reviews for a monthly magazine in Fredericksburg that lasted less than 25 minutes. It was so fleeting I can’t even remember the name of the magazine. We must remember not to take people like Leigh Anne for granted in our community.
— The Card Cellar (located at 915 Caroline Street for all of your holiday gift shopping needs). The Card Cellar has been the first and only sponsor of my column, which is much appreciated, but the Card Cellar is also a welcome window into my misplaced childhood memories with a wide selection of sports cards and video games. Colonial Tavern might be the only bar with Smithwick’s on tap, but the Card Cellar is the only store in Fredericksburg where I can go in and get the high score on Mr. Do every day…and not because Bart unplugs the game each evening when the store closes and the high score returns to a very doable 10,000.
— Gay Dolphins. Or, more truthfully, pansexual dolphins. These mammals are all about loving thy fellow man and woman and finding pleasure therein. Special thanks to Dr. Dominique Didier, a Professor of Aquatic Biology and Ichthyology at Millersville University of Pennsylvania, for contributing to my column on the sexual habits of dolphins and beginning a trend among the experts I have consulted for this column on being far funnier than I am. (I do feel that when I now Google “Drew Gallagher and Gay Dolphins” there is a degree of fulfillment in my life that had been previously lacking.)
— Music. Under the banner of humorist, I have been able to justify pestering music icons such as Tim Quirk of Too Much Joy and Chris Trapper of The Push Stars for their insights on Halloween songs and the importance of the kazoo in the history of wind instruments. There are times when I write my column while listening to “Crush Story” by Too Much Joy and think that, yes, this is exactly what my editors are saying as they read the column: “Everything you ever said is brilliant, Anything you want to do is fine with me, This is much better than love, babe, This is a crush story, crush story.” (Shout out to my cousin Shawn Gallagher and his band Salt Hill for recording “Past Tense” and making me an official songwriter like Lennon and McCartney, Loggins and Messina, and The Wiggles. CD of their debut album available soon.)
— Hall of Famer Tyrone Washington. Specifically, for being such a bad fisherman. Tyrone and his inability to catch fish has provided a much-needed crutch as metaphor and simile when my creativity flags…like bites on Tyrone’s fishing pole. But Tyrone also imbues the world with optimism because each time he takes his boat out on the water, he has the belief that today will be the day he catches the “lunker,” and he will be able to feed his family. That day has yet to arrive, but when we sit on his front porch and drink beer he stares off into the horizon and nods like that day is drawing near. As the French writer and philosopher Albert Camus once wrote about Sisyphus and the tedium of pushing a rock up a slope to a top he would never reach: “One must imagine Tyrone happy.”
— My Wife, Margaret. There are many ways to start a Sunday morning, and I would imagine that most are preferable to reading about your husband wanting to procreate with you in his office under the steely gaze of six Ted Williams’ photographs and one figurine while he smells of pine tar-scented soap. I’m certain there are Sunday mornings when she reads my column and reminds herself that “in sickness and health” covers mental illness as well. She may also take solace in the fact that if one day her divorce attorney can land a judge who is a Yankee fan then I’ll be left with nothing more than swimming with gay dolphins.
— Lastly, Readers. I have no idea how many people read this column, but for those that do I am thankful and hope that I’ve sprinkled a little happiness over your Sunday morning cereal (not quite the same as Red Sox pitching legend Bill Lee sprinkling drugs on his breakfast). As Spinal Tap’s David St. Hubbins and Nigel Tufnel once said: “It’s such a fine line between stupid, and uh…clever.”
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Love this.
Happy Thanksgiving, Drew!