Superb! Nice work Terrifel 
I can’t be the only person here who would want to listen to the Bing Crosby / David Bowie version of “The Little Boy Who Could Belch The Hebrew Alphabet.”
Hey, nobody gets laid before the king does! That’s one of the benefits!
Of course Jesus damned him! Drumming is pagan! It’s what Wiccans do at their sabbats! It’s the foundation of Satanic rock music! It’s the beat that does it, the beat, as poor James Watt well knew!
As aggravating as the Little Drummer Boy might be, my family has a tradition of hating, despising, holding in contempt and fearing Bing Crosby’s White Christmas. There is, of course, a story.
In the fall of 1942 my father was a medical officer with the forces preparing for the invasion of North Africa. For three weeks he and thousands of other young men who had left family and friends without knowing if they would ever see their homes and loved ones again (in my father’s case including his three or four month-old first born, me) bivouacked on the docks at Newport News waiting to board the troopships. Crosby’s hymn to the nostalgic hope of the season had just been released as a single record. For three weeks the public address system in the assembly areas played it over and over, again and again.
For the rest of his life the old man could not abide the song. He would actually get up and leave the room when it played. In his mind it had become irredeemably associated with those days of anxiety, sadness and the grief of parting when the first formations of young Americans went into an uncertain fight.
And a Merry Christmas to you all.
Thank you, now you owe me a new monitor to replace the eggnog-soaked one… 
I greatly prefer the Little Drummer Girl for suspense, adventure, and international intrigue.
And just in case you need this on top of everything else:
Bing n’ Bowie:
Bravo, Terrifel! The spirit of Leacock, Perelman et al lives on in you.
(Especially Al; he was a really funny guy.)
Ah, but he never claimed to have no gift, just
“I have no gift to bring,
pa rum pum pum pum,
That’s fit to give a king.”
So if the darned drum wasn’t a fit gift, in and of itself, how could playing on it be any better?
Allow me to make a few comments from the LDB point of view.
That’s an order, see? I’m not high enough in the ranks (I’m at the bottom, in fact) to think for myself. They tell me “come” and I’m goin’.
Sure it was a long shot, but it sounded like a better gig to me. Up to that point it was all ragamuffin companies, the occasional wedding reception, and playing for drunks at the bar. I was hoping to maybe get some steady employment out of this.
This bit is pure hyperbole. I’m good at what I do, but oxen and sheep? ha, no sense of time at all. The horses and pigs, on the other hand…
So, like I said, I was hoping for some steady work. This looked promising. I’ll admit I was disappointed when I arrived to see the, let’s be nice, “less-than-impressive” audition hall. But those other guys were there with the gold and stuff, so I took a flyer and played. We’ll see how it works out. So far there’s been bupkus in the way of income from it, but you never know.
Pum yourself, buddy.
:: takes a drag on cigarette :
All right. Who’s in charge of Terrifel’s meds? Because whoever it is is clearly asleep.
It’s “Christmas in Hollis”. Used to be the only Xmas rap song I knew of, but Snoop Dogg has one out this year.
It’s Mary I feel sorry for. There she is, heavily pregnant, having been bumped about on a donkey all the way from Nazareth to Bethlehem (if she didn’t have to walk, that is). Finally they get there, there’s nowhere to stay and they end up in a stable. Understandably she goes into labour, probably prematurely, and gives birth, on her own as far as we know. Fortunately all goes well and she has a healthy baby.
By now she is exhausted, but she does what has to be done, gets the baby cleaned up and fed. By now she’s looking forward to a good sleep. But what happens - all these odd people start to arrive. First a lot of smelly shepherds, complete with sheep, who insist on seeing the baby. Then when they have gone, a bunch of angels start singing at the tops of their voices.
By now she probably has a migraine and the baby is awake again. But finally all is quiet and she gets the baby off to sleep again. Then what happens? A little kid turns up and wants to start banging a drum? No, I don’t think so …
PS That whole “I am a poor boy too” thing. That just slipped out, and I’m embarrassed about it. Paid gigs were few and far between, and I was kissing a** a bit. Like you’ve never done that.
LDB
Well, to be fair, that wasn’t exactly his claim:
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That’s fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum
You see, he’s admitting that his drum is, in fact, crap. Not to mention his playing.
Good work Terrife. Its taken me many years as a musician to figure out that all drummers are crazy. Especially banging a drum in front of a new-born baby. (Drummers in the above posts excepted, of course!) 
AND she never, ever got to have sex. Sucks to be her. (Joseph too)
That’s assuming you have the Catholic view of Mary as “ever virgin.” It’s not necessarily so. James the Lesser may have actually been the brother of Jesus. IIRC, Matthew calls him a “firstborn son,” which does sound a lot like there were others.
I was trapped by a mechanical problem in Disney a few years back. We were in the tram for over nearly an hour. There were marrionettes singing "its a small word after all"It never leaves my mind competely. I considerered getting out and walking.