But I'm throwing it up again because I heard this song again just yesterday and found myself getting just as irked as I had a mere 12 months ago! Indeed, I had to repress a monologue about the SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS and IS NOTHING SACRED in front of my two confused, overbundled children strapped into the back seat of the family wagon. I know. And coming from ME, right? Which is why I repressed it. Anyway, allow me to rant for you once again, won't you?
The other day, my pal PetCobra posted a link to this hilarious dissection of a Christmas song. (Warning: clicking on that link will totally send you straight to Hell. There is dialogue that mentions "God" and "hand job" in the same sentence. With ILLUSTRATIONS.)
Anyway, it got me thinking of this one song that I want to stab in the thigh every time I hear it. (Which is quite often, unfortunately, because I'm already tuned in to that 24/7 Christmas songs radio station.)
But the SONG. Have you heard this one? It's called "Same Old Lang Syne" by this jackass Dan Fogelberg*. Listen, won't you? I DARE you not to laugh. Really. Try hard.
Right. (Though, special thanks must go to the slide-show aficionado that made this tasteless mocking happen today! Cheers!)
So, let's break it down for a moment. I'll lay out the setting for us all. It's Christmas Eve and we've got ourselves a married groupie and a washed-up singer looking for an open bar. Plus the six pack. And a car with steamed-up windows.
Can you feel the magic of the season yet? Alright, we'll keep going.
The toast to innocence? Does that do it for you? Oh. Well, probably because we've still got the unfaithful whore getting drunk with her music-man friend while her husband stays up late on Christmas Eve working pro-bono on that new Pediatric Wing at the community hospital. And the kids are all, "Where's Mommy with the milk for Santa's cookies, Poppa? She went to the store THREE HOURS AGO!"
Maybe if we listen a little, um, harder?
Ok, no. Let's just stop. Because when he tells me that their TONGUES were TIRED, I am suddenly mixing images of Jesus and soft porn. And that, my friends, is how you end up on the naughty list, I've been told. I know some people.
*Whoops! Looks like Mr. Fogelberg has passed. Score one for the married architects of the world. No but really. That's totally mean and not in the spirit of Christmas. The infidelity, that is. Say hi to Jesus for me, Danny Boy.