All of them.
If I never hear that one about the mouse and the dead cat again in my life it will still be too soon.
(Something about a mouse caught outside on a cold night, a cat curls around it to keep it warm and freezes to death, then Santa shows up and takes the cat to heaven in his sleigh. What the hell.)
Just the rest of you thank your lucky stars you don’t have to hear “Christmas in the Northwest” on your radio stations every December.
But… but… it’s a gift God wrapped in green.
I’ve improved it by providing an alternate third verse that more accurately reflects the reaction of the mother of a newborn baby when somebody offers a drum lullaby as a baby shower gift:
(Shall I play for you, pa-rum-pa-pum-pum/On my drum?)
*Mary nodded, pa-rum-pa-pum-pum
It was a secret sign, pa-rum-pa-pum-pum
Then Joseph took my arm, pa-rum-pa-pum-pum
He led me from the barn, pa-rum-pa-pum-pum,
Rum-pa-pum-pum, rum-pa-pum-pum
Then he smiled at me, pa-rum-pa-pum-pum
And fed me my drum…*
Is TOO!
“All I want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth.” Department stores and shopping malls in Thailand, thinking this is the ultimate in Christmas music in the West, would play it nonstop for Western shoppers every December. That and “Frosty thee Snowman.” I suppose they’re doing it right now.
One thing I do miss are rousing renditions of “Jinger Ben,” the Thai pronunciation of “Jingle Bells.”
“Thank God it’s them/Instead of you!”
Too bad. It’s on the playlist now, so that make it a Christmas carol.
And that makes “Shrek” Christmas movie.
Whitney Houston cut a version of Do You Hear What I Hear? and left out the first verse about the night wind talking to the little lamb.
This morning I found out that Jordin Sparks did the same thing.
John Boy pitching Mercedes.
Do You Hear What I Hear has to be the suckiest song ever. It goes beyond bad holiday songs.
Every single song on A Very Special Christmas Vol. 1, except the song by Sting. Because that song is not cutesy and does not sound like anyone wants to have sex with Santa.
I was working in a record store (remember record stores?) when that album came out, and the damn cassette was in heavy rotation until there was an accident that rendered the cassette unplayable.
When I first heard that song, it was so over the top and saccharine that I burst out laughing, and offended several people around me who thought it was a wonderful religious and heartwarming tune. Now if I hear it I alternate between nausea, eye-rolling, and snickering madly. Sometimes all at once.
Ugh, I’d forgotten about it until you brought it up. Thanks a lot…
A couple of years ago Barnes & Noble was playing a melancholy dirge by (I think) Harry Connick in what seemed like an endless loop. Something about being alone for the holidays. Luckily I haven’t heard it since.
I’m not sure it rises to a standard, but it just came on the radio and I remembered how much I hate it.
Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses. I think I hate that more than a theoretical Santa Baby It’s Cold Outside medley.
“So this is Christmas/and what have you done?”
Nothing important. Fuck you.
I love Lennon, too, but not this sanctimonious drone-fest of a song.
I frown upon “Run Run, Rudolph.”
This.
I have always considered that to be the most repulsive Christmas song ever written. The kid’s mother’s on her death bed, and instead of being by her side, the kid’s off buying fuck-me pumps for mom to wear, to impress Jesus when she meets him. How fucked up is that? And you just know, after bullshitting some dumb schmuck to pay for the shoes, the kid’s out in the parking lot trading them for drugs.