(Burl Ivanhoe?)
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Yule. What a nice, non-threatening word. It’s actually an archaic term for “Christmas,” but don’t tell anybody that. We wouldn’t anyone to get offended by Christmas at Christmas.
For many people, one of the best things about Christmas – and one of the worst – is Christmas music. No holiday has generated more music than Christmas, except maybe National Karaoke Week. And it’s wonderful music, mostly, with a few uncomfortable spasms sprinkled in. For example, there’s the heartwarming story about reindeer running over somebody’s grandmother. There are several tunes about sleigh rides, which these days are about as relevant as chastity belts, or for that matter, chastity. And then there’s that audio abortion, Dominick the Christmas Donkey. Allowing that braying ballad to be played in public borders on criminal negligence.
And I’ve never been a big fan of Burl Ives, either, but this year I learned that his full name was Burl Icle Ivanhoe Ives, so he and his family get a pass.
Hey, naming a kid “Ivanhoe” takes guts.
If you pay attention and listen closely, some Christmas carols – like many nursery rhymes – have some fairly psychotic things going on. Witness:
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Thumpety-thump-thump
Thumpety-thump-thump
Look at Frosty go!
<< ! >>
Thumpety? What the heck is that snowman made out of?
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In the meadow we can build a snowman
And pretend that he is Parson Brown
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Now there’s a bit of theology with which I’m not familiar.
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Is that you, Santa Claus?
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No, you dim bulb, it’s Mary Poppins and Dick van Dyke. How many people frequent your freakin’ chimney?
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You see, she’s been sick for quite a while
And I know these shoes would make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful
If Mama meets Jesus tonight
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Because nothing says “Happy Holidays!” quite like fatalities and footwear.
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Mary, did you know?
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Yes, sweetheart. Mary knew. Absolutely, Mary knew. When a virgin goes in for an amniocentesis, that’s a tip-off.
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Shall I play for you
Pa rum pum pum pum
<< ! >>
Wanted: Drummer for indie Jewish shepherd combo. Pum pum pum experience a plus. Long hours. Some herald-harking required.
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Oh, ho, the mistletoe
Hung where you can see
Somebody waits for you
Kiss her once for me
<< ! >>
Kiss her once for me? Burl, you mangy dog.
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Santa baby
Just slip a sable under the tree, for me
Think of all
The fun I’ve missed
Think of all the fellas
That I haven’t kissed
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Eartha, we need to hook you up with Burl.
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I really can’t stay.
But baby, it’s cold outside!
Hey, what’s in this drink?
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Ah, the holidays. Desserts. Decorations. Date rape drugs.
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Later on, we’ll conspire
As we dream by the fire
To face, unafraid, the plans that we made
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I don’t know if they’re just comfy cozy or about to knock off a bank.
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I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.
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…sang every deplorable gun-toting Bible-thumping Trump voter who denied Hillary her Goddess-given coronation
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But I’ll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas
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…sang Hillary
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I’ll be home for Christmas
You can plan on me
I’ll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams
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If only in your dreams? Then we really can’t plan on you, can we, darling? Here – have some of this “in your dreams” turkey.
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Go tell it on the mountain
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Apparently, mountain people don’t get cable.
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My python boot is too tight
I couldn’t get it off last night
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That one was a Frank Zappa reference. Just checking to see if you’re paying attention.
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He sees you when you’re sleeping
He knows when you’re awake
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Have yourself a very NSA Christmas!
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On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me
Nine ladies dancing
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Oh, good. Christmas strippers. How festive.
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We’ll have lots of fun with Mr. Snowman
Until the other kiddies knock him down
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These must be the same “kiddies” who leave their lit cigarettes on my porch before ringing the doorbell on Halloween.
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I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
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All I want for Christmas is extended Freudian therapy.
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All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names
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But then Rudolph matriculated at Stanford, affirmed his or her sexual orientation, and majored in Eco-Friendly Mesoamerican Pottery Theory while huddled in the university’s designated safe space.
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It’s the most wonderful time of the year!
There’ll be scary ghost stories
And tales of the glories of Christmases long, long ago
<< ! >>
Pardon me? Ghost stories?
Hey, while you’re being confused, why don’t you throw in an Easter egg and a Valentine?
And these “glories of Christmases long ago?” What, the Tet offensive?
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There’ll be much mistletoeing
And hearts will be glowing
<< ! >>
And now “mistletoe” is a verb? Go do much shut-upping.
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Well, I hope that was informative, or at least non-threatening. At the very least, we got to spend a few minutes without the risk of anybody cueing up that Donkey song.
So…from me, Zappa, and Ivanhoe: Merry Yulemas!