Nevada County, CA — Dale Ferguson, or as he’s known around Gary’s Place, Big D, has come forward with what he calls “the real deal” about the “again” part in “Make America Great Again.” Now before you go thinking it’s got anything to do with taxes or jobs or international relations, let’s just say Big D’s vision of American greatness has less to do with government policy and a whole lot more to do with Jell-O.
Yep. We’re talking about holiday Jell-O salads.
See, for Big D and his friends, the real golden era of this country was when you could throw Cool Whip and canned fruit into a gelatinous mold, bring it to the Thanksgiving table, and be hailed a culinary genius. They’ll tell you it was a simpler time when folks didn’t fuss about things like “health food” or “natural ingredients.”
Nope.
They just wanted a big old technicolor Jell-O salad sitting front and center on the table. To Big D, these Jell-O concoctions represent “true American values” and a return to when everyone knew their place, the marshmallows belonged on top, the Cool Whip held it all together, and canned pineapple was exotic.
Now, Big D’s political motivations have always puzzled some people, particularly his cousin Jessica, who tried last year to sneak in a kale and walnut salad, which Big D promptly exiled to the other end of the table. According to him, Thanksgiving is about bringing people together, but not if they’re bringing leafy greens into his personal gelatin paradise. He firmly believes that if you’re a red-blooded American, you’ll be reaching for the Jell-O, not the arugula.
And here’s where it gets interesting. Even within Big D’s circle, not everyone can agree on the right way to make this Jell-O marvel. There are hardliners like Big D who say Jell-O salad means no nuts, no exceptions.
Then there’s his brother-in-law Randy, who likes to throw in walnuts, claiming it gives the salad some “texture.” The debate over walnuts has nearly torn their Thanksgiving potluck to pieces. Last year, Big D said he’d never felt more betrayed than when he bit into Randy’s salad and found something crunchy. He took it as a personal attack on the American way.
Now, Jessica, Big D’s more liberal cousin, finds the politics behind this Jell-O obsession to be baffling. To her, the question is simple. How can you put your faith in someone who thinks a Jell-O salad counts as a vegetable? How can you stand by a man who seems as artificial as the Cool Whip on top? But Big D will look you straight in the eye and tell you this isn’t about politics. It’s about values. You know, the kind you can spoon out of a mold and serve up to the whole family.
And there you have it, folks. This Thanksgiving, Big D and his crew are gearing up to prove their point with the proudest display of Jell-O molds Nevada County has ever seen. So if you’re at the Ferguson table and you’re not in the mood for a patriotic helping of fruit, Cool Whip, and gelatin, well, you might just be on the wrong side of history, or at least on the wrong side of Big D’s Thanksgiving table.
