Please pardon me, but I am always overcome by mawkish sentimentality at this time of year.
I cannot contain my gratitude. I am thankful for a paycheck and sunsets and modern plumbing and mobility and rainbows and warm clothing and good friends and conjunctions and …
I am thankful that I can do anything you can do better, I can do anything better than you — except get $%&# show tunes out of my head.
I am thankful for eight-month tick-and-flea collars, because the traumatic monthly sprayings do not promote ideal master/pet relations. (“Believe me, if I had opposable thumbs, I would light the sack on fire myself, buddy!”)
I am thankful that I don’t often get into embarrassing public conversations where I mispronounce misleadingly spelled names (“Erdogan,” “Ghosn,” “Ghislaine,” etc.) that I have encountered only in print. I am thankful that my parents gave me a good, old-fashioned, easy-to-pronounce, meat-and-potatoes name. Although, admittedly, I got a lot of ribbing in school when the teacher called “Ribeye Russet Tyree.”
Speaking of school, I am thankful that I went through the educational system in an unenlightened time when being the “teacher’s pet” didn’t include neutering.
I am thankful that when someone sneezes, I can still wish them a heartfelt “gesundheit,” without being required by law to add “press 2 if you wish to hear ‘gesundheit’ in Spanish.”
I am thankful that I am savvy enough not to leap at extended warranties. OK, obviously, I got the one on “temporary insanity,” but that’s it.
I am thankful that I have survived this long without being remotely proficient at tying knots. (“There! That boat’s not going anywhere — unless it gets repossessed to pay for all the duct tape.”)
I am thankful that only God can make a tree, because one made by committee/focus group would be a disaster. (“Bark? Bark? Are we trying to get confused with a kennel? I’m going to go out on a limb here and say … oh, wait, that reminds me, limbs are so last year …”)
I am thankful that I can usually purchase my size 14 shoes without clerks wagering on how many clowns will cram back into the car.
I am thankful that I get a percentage of the gate when my good gut bacteria and bad gut bacteria have a mixed martial arts showdown.
I am thankful for Google Earth, because when I was watching Bewitched as a tyke, my recurring thought was always, “Forget jetpacks! I hope someday everyone in the world will get to be Gladys Kravitz!”
I am thankful that I have somehow resisted the siren call of cryptocurrency. Granted, the Sirens in Greek mythology had a call more melodic than “Hey, doofus, over there — wanna get rich quick?”
I am thankful that humans don’t hibernate, because “The best part of waking up is Folgers in your barrel” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
I am thankful for the thoughts and prayers of friends and acquaintances, even in an era when thoughts and prayers are not in high regard. (“Just heard that you’re laid up with a bad back. Well, we’re going to pass some emergency legislation banning bad backs. Perhaps you’d like to contribute …”)
Don’t be a stranger. Especially not some enchanted evening … Aaarrrggghhh!
— Satirical columnist Danny Tyree welcomes email responses at email@example.com and visits to his Facebook fan page Tyree’s Tyrades. He is syndicated by Cagle Cartoons and the author of Yes, Your Butt Still Belongs in Church. Click here to read previous columns. The opinions expressed are his own.