There are twelve days of Christmas… and none of them are in November. *sigh* But nevertheless, it’s that time of year, again. It’s… Christmas time!!! <He said in a chirpy and perky tone of voice.> Yes, that’s me, Mr Perky. Cute and cuddly til the end. So let Mr Perky say this about that…
Bah! Humbug! Humbug to all of you!
Today marks the official, and only marginally acceptable, start of the Christmas season, and with that comes the Christmas music. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like watching little kids get excited about it, and I like the photo gear presents I buy for myself, but the music… ugh! I don’t know what is worse, the peppy tunes, the inspirational new-age stuff, or the insipid traditional crap that no emotionally stable person has ever liked. Just shoot me now.
Who writes this garbage? Better yet, who listens to it? Some people do, obviously, but I seriously wonder about them. Then there’s the people who listen to it all… day… long… for days… weeks… on end. No, just no, Bad little elf! That’s wrong. The Geneva Convention outlawed this decades ago. You can’t subject people around you to this… this flat, uninteresting, lackluster, dull, drab, boring, dry, humdrum, ho-hum, monochrome, plodding tedious, pedestrian, trite, tired, hackneyed, stale, lame, wishy-washy, colorless, anemic, lifeless music. Seriously, it’s inhumane. I’d rather take a calculus test than this. At least the calculus test will end soon. It’s so bad, that given the choice, prisoners in Guantanamo chose waterboarding over non-stop Christmas music.
December 26th never looked so good.
But even I have a soft side, so it’s confession time: In every steaming pile of dog dung in December, there’s a little shiny nugget. I do have a Christmas CD. I am the proud owner of Twisted Sister’s A Twisted Christmas. Not bad. In fact, so good, they never felt the need to record and release another studio album. Quit while you’re ahead, baby!
SMH