Big Ugly Man Doll

Diving right in, the song originally planned for today has been bumped by this sack of saccharine suck, suggested by the ever-vigilant Madam List Maker.  As much as I love Dean Martin – and I do, don’t get me wrong – it’s tough to really fall hard for the Marshmallow.

It’s a marshmallow world in the winter
When the snow comes to cover the ground
It’s the time for play, it’s a whipped cream day 

First, Dean-o sounds like he’s been hitting the nog pretty hard before they started recording.  I mean, yeah, he kinda always sounded like that, usually because he’d been hitting the nog pretty hard, but he seems, um, happier than usual on this one. 

Second, marshmallow clouds “being friendly” in the arms of the evergreen trees?  I have a mental image of really, really sticky coniferious sex here.  I don’t much like marshmallows in the first place, so the whole idea makes me shake my head a bit.  I suppose that if you’re sitting inside, nice and warm because you’ve got a fire going and you’ve had enough eggnog and whiskey, hold the eggnog, to bring down bull elephants, and you glance out the window and there’s just enough light to see the drifted mounds of snow out there, and you’re in the mood for something sweet and chewy to offset that eighth glass of bourbon, you might consider all that crap you’re going to have to shovel in the morning to look a little like a double-helping of marshmallow fluff.  Go ahead, have another.

You know what sucks more than shoveling snow?  Shoveling snow with a hangover.  I’m just sayin.

But don’t let that stop you.  Bing Crosby shoveled these marshmallows in 1950, Vic Damone in 1951, Johnny Mathis in 1963, Brenda Lee in 1964.  Just because Dean-o waited until 1966 doesn’t mean we can’t all do it.  After all, the world is your snowball – see how it grows!  That’s how it goes, whenever it snows. 

And it’s getting deep in here. 

Tags: Children // 1 Comment »

In honor of Pearl Harbor day, we will begin with one of my favorite jokes about intolerance.  After all, intolerant people are about the only ones left that we’re allowed to make fun of!

A Jewish guy and a Korean guy were sitting at the bar, and the Jewish guy kept looking over and getting angrier and angrier.  All of a sudden he turned, got up and hit the Korean in the face, knocking him off his stool.

Stunned, the Korean guy gets up and says, “What the hell was that for?”
The Jewish guy replies, “That was for Pearl Harbor.”
The Korean guys says, “Pearl Harbor was the Japanese, you idiot!  I’m Korean!”
The Jewish guy says, “Japanese, Chinese, Korean, you’re all the same.”

The Korean guy says “Fine!” and sits on his stool and continues drinking. He keeps looking over at the Jewish guy, getting angrier and angrier.  About a half hour later the Korean guy walked over and punched the Jewish guy right in the head, knocking him off his stool.

The Jewish guy gets up and says, “What the hell was that for?”
The Korean guy says “That was for the Titanic.”
The Jewish guy replies, “What? The Titanic was sunk by an iceberg!”
The Korean guy says, “Iceberg, Steinberg, Goldberg, you’re all the same…”

And that’s the kind of thinking that leads to wars, and as John and Yoko told us the other day, that’s bad.  It’s never OK to be intolerant.  I know there are people in this world who do not love their fellow human beings and I HATE PEOPLE LIKE THAT. 

I should say, it’s never OK to be intolerant of other people. Being intolerant of Christmas songs, in particular some of those by the Beach Boys, is just fine.  “Hope he doesn’t pull on Santa’s beard?”  Now, things may be different up there at the Pole, but where I’m from talking about “Santa’s beard” has a whoooole different meaning.  (And yes, I got the words to the song from Metro Lyrics.  Shut up.)  So, Santa’s favorite song during the off season really is “When I think about you, I touch my elf.”  Marv.

So now we know, first, there’s a distraught not-quite-6-year-old who still thinks the fat guy in red’s got nothing to do but hang out in the mall; second, his older brother’s an idiot; and third, the Beach Boys didn’t know bo-diddly about wintertime.  I think the closest most of them got to snow on a regular basis in Southern California was cocaine, and that didn’t really pick up until the ’80s.

So please, love each other.  Love this song if you can.  Love it for me, because I have lost faith with the Beach Boys and the Mall Santas and the Christmas Album and the Man With All the Toys.  Now that we know Ms. Claus is Santa’s beard, can we assume that “Little” St. Nick is the man with all the sex toys?  Oh, snap!

And love, if you can, this video of some idiots with “Santa’s Beard” in the background. 

Tags: Children // Add Comment »

Last night, being the involved paterfamilias that I am, waiting for the PTA meeting to start, I was treated, by which I mean subjected, to the dulcet tones of a half-dozen 6th Graders playing Jingle Bells on various stringed weapons of mass destruction, by which I mean it sucked like a Hoover upright set for 110 that’s been plugged into a 220 outlet.  

This is, in fact, about that.  This is an advent countdown of Christmas and other miscellaneous holiday songs that make me barf a bit, the ones you know you’re supposed to love, but really you’d rather icepick your ears than sit through them on the radio again – you know the kind I mean.  I really didn’t think Jingle Bells, per se, would make this list, and since I can’t subject you to the same tortuous dischord (without incurring the wrath of the local PETA chapter, to say nothing of my cats), it won’t. 

Today’s exercise in aural torture instead comes from the incomparable Michael Bolton.  And when I say incomparable, I mean that there is no one who can suck the musical life out of a room to compare with him.   “Our Love is Like a Holiday?”  Really, Michael?  Is that because it only happens once a year?  Is it one of those holidays where the Mother In Law shows up to explain how you’re doing it wrong while the Father In Law sits on the couch watching TV and drinking your beer for a week and the goddamn roast is overcooked AGAIN and we’re not inviting the Montibans next door because of what they said about our Sharon, and we’re can’t invite the Smithfields even though we like them because they’ll just argue politics with your mom and remember she broke that vase last year – one of those Holidays?  Yes?

Perhaps he was trying to write a Christmas tribute to Neil Young’s “Our Love is Like a Hurricane,” and just wanted to make sure he could suck more than that.  Jury’s still out.

Also, any song that starts with the words, “Oh yeah” sounds like you forgot something.  I think I forgot to turn this thing off.  “I know that I let you down in the past / Cause I’ve got so many places to go / Girl, I promise I’ll be around, give me a chance / Cause I’m singing for you wherever it show”  – riiiiiiiiiiight.  No, no, of course I love you baby.  Those other six hundred forty-two girls I banged after those concerts didn’t mean anything to me.   After all, “it’s hard to believe / This world brought you to me…” 

No, it’s hard to believe there’s anyone who’s going to fall for this dreck.  Get a haircut. 

Go ahead.  It’s like a train wreck – you don’t want to listen, but you can’t keep yourself from clicking.  I’ll be over here, trying to get the sound of two cellos, two violas, and two violence out of my head.  And yes, I spelled that right.

Tags: Children // 1 Comment »

A little girl was sitting on the curb in front of her house with a sad look on her face. An older lady happened upon her and asked her why she looked so sad. The girl replied, “My kitty cat died.”

The older woman, trying to be helpful, said to the little girl, “I know you’re sad, but right now your kitty cat is with Jesus.”

The girl crinkled her nose for a second and replied, “What would Jesus want with a dead cat?”

But this isn’t about that.  This is an advent countdown of Christmas and other miscellaneous holiday songs that make me barf a bit, the ones you know you’re supposed to love, but really you’d rather run hot wax in your ears than sit through them on the radio again – you know the kind I mean.  Today’s exercise in holiday tune torture came to us first from Angela Lansbury in the 1966 production of Mame and since then we’ve heard it a thousand thousand times, from everyone from Lucille Ball, Johnny Mathis, and Dinah Shore to Kathie Lee Gifford, Lee Greenwood, and the cast of Glee.  Hell, the Muppets have done this one.  They’ve all Needed a Little Christmas, right this very minute.  Right now.  Right. Freakin’. Now.  Hurry!

“Candles in the window, Carols at the spinet.”
“She is, is she?  What’s she doing there?”
“What?”
“Why is Carol at the spinet?  What the hell’s a spinet, anyway?  I thought a spinet was one of those really thin girls you can hire in Las Vegas…”

Haul out the holly?  Slice up the fruitcake?  Kill me now.  Are you in such a rush to get to the end of the year that you don’t want to savor every day of it?  Hmmm, OK, maybe they’re right; get it over with.  Still, I’ve heard this one about six thousand times too often. 

Go ahead.  You were bored anyway, and you’re not going to hear this for at least another 6.5 minutes if you’ve got the radio on in December.   I’ll be over here, figuring out what to do with this dead cat that no one seems to want.

Tags: Children // 2 Comments »

Yesterday’s advent post included a Unitarian joke.  (Unitarian jokes, gotta love ’em!)  Today, for about 15 minutes, there was a time when you could Google “Unitarian jokes” and find that Big Ugly Man Doll post as one of the top hits.  Now, a few hours later, I’ve fallen out of the top hits again.  I assume this is an example of God messing with me.  Who would have guessed he was a Unitarian?

But this isn’t about that.  This is an advent countdown of Christmas and other miscellaneous holiday songs that make me barf a bit, the ones you know, and you know you know them, and you know you’re supposed to love them, because they’re NICE and they’re CLASSIC and they’re MEANINGFUL  – you know the kind I mean. 

Today’s exercise in holiday tune torture comes to us from the one and only John Lennon.  Imagine there’s no Yoko!  But there is a Yoko.  And she’s singing with him on this one, and if that’s not bad enough, they would like to wish you a Happy Christmas by showing you dead people, kids with guns, and amputees.  Yes, there are bad things in the world.  Yes, we’re all bastards, and war is evil.  Happy Christmas, you should be ashamed and depressed.  Like the holidays aren’t stressful and depressing on their own, we need this?  I mean, kudos to John – it’s tough to really get people down with eight lines and a refrain, but he DOES it, by gum.  “So, this is Christmas /you miserable shit.  Why not take your money / and wallow in it.” 

Go ahead.  Rip your heart out watching sad, desperate people do sad, desperate things to each other, with bonus corpses for extra holiday cheer!   I’ll be over here, figuring out how to get this Question Mark tree topper on the Christmas tree. 

Tags: Children // 1 Comment »