Christmas Music

Hit the Bricks Drummer Boy

The early onset of the Christmas season starts when local stations play Christmas music. Luckily for you, I’ll be posting my entire Christmas List in its entirety prior to Jesus’ shindig. Unluckily for lovers of Christmas music, there are just too many songs and not enough time. What do we have, only a full month and five days until Christmas? Ugh, we’ll be flooded with songs and not enough time to fully enjoy the good ones. So, to wring every last second out of worthwhile Christmas music, I’ve decided to cut a few songs out of the catalogue, give you some extra time to listen to Dean Martin convince a woman to lose her inhibitions and clothes from half-a-drink more.

Moving forward, in attempts to give you the most satisfaction from your Christmas music, the following songs have been removed from the Christmas songbook:

“Little Drummer Boy”: In all honesty, what song would grab your attention if all it did was sing the sounds of the instrument someone in the song plays? Would it work for the triangle? A series of “ting, ting, ting, ting, tings” repeated at the end of a verse? Is that music? Same goes for the LDB. You think I’m going to allow the lyrics “pa rum pum pum pum” to get a free pass? He has the gall to ask if he should play for us, only the question comes in the second verse. Too late Drummer Boy, too late. And another thing, the only reason the Newborn King smiled at you is because he feels bad for you. All the cool kids walk around with guitars to serenade lovers or at the very least, score a gig playing in a Potbelly’s. No one wants a drummer to serenade them. Going to wow them with heavy beats? What are you from the Congo, you attention-starved mutant?

“I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”: Those with the moral scruples or lack of energy who practice fidelity scream bloody murder at the idea that Mommy is getting her kicks in with Santa while Daddy (presumably) works in the utility room to add another hole to the button-end of his belt. But aren’t we forgetting the most jarring part? The rat, the guy who spills the beans to us all about Mommy and Santa spending seven minutes in heaven under the mistletoe, is a budding voyeur. He sits there after he “creep(s)” (his words, not mine) out of bed to spy on Mommy and wanders to see her and Santa. What was he looking for? “The Late Show” is a rerun on Christmas Eve. There are no premiere sporting events to watch. Let’s face it: the kid is a budding stalker and instead of (intelligently) holding the kiss over Mommy’s head in hopes that maybe she’ll look the other way when it comes to his internet history, he wants to tell the world about how sneaky and sly he is. His braggadocio surpassed his intelligence, and for that the song has been removed.

Dean stays. He always does.

Dean stays. He always stays.

“Santa Baby”: I’ll give this lady credit, she’s smart enough to build up her requests from Santa in increments. First it’s a sable, but then her greed takes over. Out-of-space convertible, yacht, deed to a platinum mine, and a ring, and for what, the fact she hasn’t kissed a bunch of fellas? She should be compensated for being chaste? And who’s to say any of these fellas actually wanted to kiss her? Maybe she was chaste out of necessity, not out of choice. Between you and me, I don’t trust her. I don’t trust her one bit.

Then, if her requests weren’t far-fetched enough, she has the gall to tell Santa to get his big ass down the chimney. “Hurry down the chimney tonight,” are her exact words. Like Santa doesn’t have enough to worry about that he needs some gold-digger imploring him to hurry up. Does she even realize how icy those rooftops are come December? The nerve.

By no means are these the only cuts to come from the Christmas songbook of 2014. Feel free to make suggestions. There’s a lot of bad to rid ourselves of. Picture this as the holiday-cleanse without the agony of cayenne pepper and lemon.


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