Enjoy today.
Enjoy tomorrow.
Because, starting Friday, it happens.
Christmas music.
More Christmas music.
And more Christmas music.
And more Christmas music.
And more Christmas music.
And more Christmas music.
And more Christmas music.
And more Christmas music.
I hate to be a Scrooge, but let’s think about this phenomenon a little bit. First, I’d guess that, oh, 98 percent of the Christmas songs played on the radio were actually recorded between the months of April and August, when some record company executive said, “Here’s an idea—a Hall & Oates Christmas album!”
Second, the purpose of these songs is to get you in the holiday spirit. Because if you’re in the holiday spirit, you’ll listen to more Christmas songs on the radio. Which means you’ll listen to the advertisements in between Christmas songs. Which means you’ll learn that,
now at Toys R Us, Rocky the Robot Truck can be had for a mere $59.99! That’s right—$59.99! Really, only $59.99! Now, while supplies last!
Christmas songs remind us that all is righteous in the world. Except for the songs themselves which are, with rare exception, retreads of old, battered-down tunes from the 1940s, 50s and 60s—sung sans passion by men and women smoking their sixth or seventh cigarettes of the day, en route to their inevitable demise via lung cancer. Hell, the only good Christmas songs are mock Christmas songs—like this one. Which I love. But not because it’s a Christmas song. Because it’s a joke.
Christmas songs remind me of Christmas. Which I always hated, because I was one of a handful of Jewish kids growing up in my hometown, which meant while all my friends were opening presents in the shadow of a glitzy tree I was eating Chinese food, then going to see Star Trek III. Sometimes, the Garganos, my neighbors, would invite me over. Which I loved. But I was always keenly aware that I was an onlooker. It wasn’t my holiday; my time.
Friggin’ Christmas music!
