Since Kevin seems to be slacking this year, I figured I’d do the first entry, and make it something a little more obscure. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Pearl Bailey:
Archive for the ‘Holiday’ Category
Until I find something better, I’m just going to link to this every year:
Here’s hoping you enjoy your Fourth.
It’s not just about a day off of work and cookouts. Remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice, and work to ensure that this sacrifice is never again made in vain.
Thank you all for reading and arguing with us over the last year. It has been a lot of fun, thanks to you. I hope you all have/had the Hanukkah, Christmas, Kwanzaa, Solstice or other holiday you always wanted.
It is not a traditional one, but its a great song, sad and hopeful at the same time. It is good Christmas music. And by good Christmas music I mean music that captures either hopeful feeling of what Christmas is supposed to represent — peace on earth, charity, all the mushy liberal stuff — or the pissed off feeling you get when you realize that humanity hasn’t managed to come close to living up to those ideals. A Fairytale of New York. perfectly captures the disappontment that you have gotten to another Christmas completely messed up and the hope that maybe next year it can be better. It is also a great rock and roll song.
It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won’t see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you
Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I’ve got a feeling
This year’s for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true
They’ve got cars big as bars
They’ve got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It’s no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me
You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night
The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing “Galway Bay”
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day
You’re a bum
You’re a punk
You’re an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God it’s our last
I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can’t make it all alone
I’ve built my dreams around you
A classic repost to placate Dig:
Tom was absolutely, one hundred percent correct: Christmas Shoes is the most horrible, un-Christian Christmas song of all time. I just heard it today on LaunchCast, and was stunned by its sheer bloody awfulness. Not only is it ham-handedly manipulative, not only is it song by someone who never met a note they couldn’t kill, but it has the most appallingly amoral message of any Christmas song I have ever heard.
The premise is terribly shallow. A little kid wants to buy shoes for his dying Mommy so that she can look good for Jesus when she dies. The song starts out trying to tug at our heartstrings by advocating the notion that Jesus cares what you look like, as if the Jimmy Choos would sway St. Peter. It is not an auspicious start to a song supposedly about the meaning of Christmas. I might have been willing to overlook that if the rest of the song didn’t miss the point of Jesus’ ministry just as badly.
The end of the song was so stunning, so vacuous, so counter to everything that I have ever been taught about Christianity that I had to find the lyrics to make sure I had heard them correctly. I had. Unfortunately:
I knew I’d caught a glimpse of heaven’s love
As he thanked me and ran out
I knew that God had sent that little boy
To remind me just what Christmas is all about
The little boy in the lyrics is poor, his mother is about to die and he doesn’t have enough money to buy her new shoes. The singer-narrator thinks that God sent him the little boy so that he, the narrator, could be reminded about the true meaning of Christmas. Now, I am going to go out on a limb here a little and suggest that God’s plan does not include killing a young woman and leaving an orphan and widower behind so that some self-satisfied prick in a department store can feel a little bit of heaven’s love. How self-centered, how completely and totally disconnected from the spirit of the Gospels do you have to be to think that God would kill a person and crush a little boy’s heart so that you could learn a little lesson about the spirit of giving? This song couldn’t reek of privilege and clueless-ness any more if it had included a message from God to bet on the Vikings, because He favored them on Sunday. I seriously have to question whether or not this song writer would recognize a Bible if he saw one, because it certainly doesn’t seem as if he has actually read one.
God does not reward the faithful with SUVs, He does not punish the wicked with slum apartments, He does not care who wins a football game, and He doesn’t kill the mommies of little boys so that bored men in checkout lines can feel a little special Christmas glow.
I’ll be out of pocket until around the 27th, but I wanted to take a moment to wish everyone a Happy Solstiramachristmakwanzakkuh. (I’m sure I’ve left someone out. Take it up with legal.)
I hope your holidays bring you joy and happiness, whatever holidays you might celebrate, and whether you’re someone with whom I frequently agree or disagree. Enjoy, and I’ll be back to pissing you off and disagreeing with you next week.
So I’m walking through this “Christmas Crafts” festival that goes on in Union Square every winter, just sort of wandering around. A beautiful, dark-haired, dark-eyed woman with exotic Mediterranean features grabs me by the arm. She wants urgently to know if I have a girlfriend. I know perfectly well that this is a scam of some sort, but . . . well . . . a beautiful dusky woman is grabbing me by the arm, so who am I to complain?