For your enjoyment!
Dec. 7th, 2002 03:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wonderboynjStop the Music!
Please! Please! Put an end to the madness!
by Dave Barry
Washington Post, December 8, 2002
Let's all get into the Holiday Spirit, as expressed by the festive
song heard so very often on the radio at this time of year:
"Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock!"
"Jingle bell..."
BANG!
That was the festive sound of the radio being struck with a hammer by
reader Sarah Frates, who writes to say she is sick of "Jingle Bell
Rock." She also states that her husband, Ralph, is not a big fan
of "The Little Drummer Boy."
I am with Ralph on that. Oh, sure, "The Little Drummer Boy" is a
beautiful song, for maybe the first 35 minutes. But eventually it
gets on your nerves, those voices shrieking, "Pa-rum-pum-pum-pum!"
For openers, drums do not go "pa-rum-pum-pum-pum." Drums go "rat-a-
tat-tat." Also I have issues with the line from "The Little Drummer
Boy" that goes: "The ox and lamb kept time."
Really? How? Did they clack their hooves together, castanet-style?
Did they dance? Are we supposed to believe that two barnyard animals
with legume-level IQs spontaneously started doing the macarena?
I'll tell you this: If I were taking care of a newborn baby, and
somebody came around whacking on a drum, that person would find
himself at the emergency room having his drumsticks surgically
removed from his rum-pum-pum-pum, if you know what I mean.
Speaking of Christmas songs we maybe could do without, perhaps this
has happened to you: You're throwing a Christmas party, and you start
singing carols, and everyone's having a festive time because you are
doing songs with easy-to-remember words, such as "fa," "la" and "la."
But then, invariably, some guest, not thinking it through, launches
into "The Twelve Days of Christmas." The singers gamely struggle
through the gold rings, maybe even the geese a-laying. But then
things start to go horribly wrong. Because in these hectic times,
when everybody must remember an ATM code and 143 computer passwords,
nobody has the brain capacity to remember what my true love gave to
me on all Twelve Days of Christmas. Some people are singing about
lords a-prancing; others are singing about pipers leaping; and others
are going with "fa la la." The song lurches forward like a bus with
transmission trouble until, somewhere around the 10th day ("10
milkers weeping"), it shudders to a pathetic halt. Then, inevitably,
some eggnog-fueled moron starts singing "The Little Drummer Boy," and
your party is over.
Don't get me wrong: I love Christmas songs, and I'm glad there are so
many good ones. My wife, who is Jewish, laments the fact that there
is basically only one Hanukah song, "The Dreidel Song," which mostly
consists of shouting, "Dreidel! Dreidel! Dreidel!" ("Dreidel" is
Hebrew for "pa-rum-pum-pum-pum.") At our house, when we celebrate
Hanukah (we celebrate every religious holiday in our house, including
Elvis's birthday), we try hard to create a festive musical
mood. "Let's sing 'The Dreidel Song'!" we say, and then we launch
into "Dreidel! Dreidel! Dreidel!" The song consumes maybe a minute.
When it's done, we sit around, looking at one another hopefully,
until finally the tension becomes unbearable, and someone
says: "Let's sing 'The Dreidel Song' again!" By nightfall we are
exhausted.
To rectify the holiday-song imbalance, maybe those of us who grew up
in the Christian tradition could offer our Jewish brethren and
sistren, as a gift, some of our traditional holiday songs. For
example, we could offer "Frosty the Snowman," which as far as I can
tell has nothing to do with Christmas anyway, unless there's a New
Testament chapter that I overlooked. ("And lo, the three wise men did
maketh a man from snow, and one of them did findeth an old silk hat,
and he saideth, 'Hey! I gotteth an idea!' And...")
Speaking of the wise men: How many of you readers, when you hear the
words "We three kings of Orient are," even if you are attending a
somber worship service, find that your brain automatically responds
with "Smoking on a rubber cigar"? Me, too. It's like at weddings,
when the organist plays "Here comes the bride," and everybody's
brain, including the groom's, automatically responds: "Big, fat and
wide."
But that is not my point. Clearly, I have no point. I just want to
wish you a happy holiday season, and remind you that this is a time
when we are loving and forgiving and not easily offended by newspaper
columns. May your days be merry and bright; may Jack Frost not nip
too hard at your nose; may you be blessed with a big old bowl of
figgy pudding; and -- above all -- may you truly understand the
meaning of the words that have been a beacon of hope to humanity for
thousands of years: "Thumpety thump thump; thumpety thump thump; look
at Frosty go."
Please! Please! Put an end to the madness!
by Dave Barry
Washington Post, December 8, 2002
Let's all get into the Holiday Spirit, as expressed by the festive
song heard so very often on the radio at this time of year:
"Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock!"
"Jingle bell..."
BANG!
That was the festive sound of the radio being struck with a hammer by
reader Sarah Frates, who writes to say she is sick of "Jingle Bell
Rock." She also states that her husband, Ralph, is not a big fan
of "The Little Drummer Boy."
I am with Ralph on that. Oh, sure, "The Little Drummer Boy" is a
beautiful song, for maybe the first 35 minutes. But eventually it
gets on your nerves, those voices shrieking, "Pa-rum-pum-pum-pum!"
For openers, drums do not go "pa-rum-pum-pum-pum." Drums go "rat-a-
tat-tat." Also I have issues with the line from "The Little Drummer
Boy" that goes: "The ox and lamb kept time."
Really? How? Did they clack their hooves together, castanet-style?
Did they dance? Are we supposed to believe that two barnyard animals
with legume-level IQs spontaneously started doing the macarena?
I'll tell you this: If I were taking care of a newborn baby, and
somebody came around whacking on a drum, that person would find
himself at the emergency room having his drumsticks surgically
removed from his rum-pum-pum-pum, if you know what I mean.
Speaking of Christmas songs we maybe could do without, perhaps this
has happened to you: You're throwing a Christmas party, and you start
singing carols, and everyone's having a festive time because you are
doing songs with easy-to-remember words, such as "fa," "la" and "la."
But then, invariably, some guest, not thinking it through, launches
into "The Twelve Days of Christmas." The singers gamely struggle
through the gold rings, maybe even the geese a-laying. But then
things start to go horribly wrong. Because in these hectic times,
when everybody must remember an ATM code and 143 computer passwords,
nobody has the brain capacity to remember what my true love gave to
me on all Twelve Days of Christmas. Some people are singing about
lords a-prancing; others are singing about pipers leaping; and others
are going with "fa la la." The song lurches forward like a bus with
transmission trouble until, somewhere around the 10th day ("10
milkers weeping"), it shudders to a pathetic halt. Then, inevitably,
some eggnog-fueled moron starts singing "The Little Drummer Boy," and
your party is over.
Don't get me wrong: I love Christmas songs, and I'm glad there are so
many good ones. My wife, who is Jewish, laments the fact that there
is basically only one Hanukah song, "The Dreidel Song," which mostly
consists of shouting, "Dreidel! Dreidel! Dreidel!" ("Dreidel" is
Hebrew for "pa-rum-pum-pum-pum.") At our house, when we celebrate
Hanukah (we celebrate every religious holiday in our house, including
Elvis's birthday), we try hard to create a festive musical
mood. "Let's sing 'The Dreidel Song'!" we say, and then we launch
into "Dreidel! Dreidel! Dreidel!" The song consumes maybe a minute.
When it's done, we sit around, looking at one another hopefully,
until finally the tension becomes unbearable, and someone
says: "Let's sing 'The Dreidel Song' again!" By nightfall we are
exhausted.
To rectify the holiday-song imbalance, maybe those of us who grew up
in the Christian tradition could offer our Jewish brethren and
sistren, as a gift, some of our traditional holiday songs. For
example, we could offer "Frosty the Snowman," which as far as I can
tell has nothing to do with Christmas anyway, unless there's a New
Testament chapter that I overlooked. ("And lo, the three wise men did
maketh a man from snow, and one of them did findeth an old silk hat,
and he saideth, 'Hey! I gotteth an idea!' And...")
Speaking of the wise men: How many of you readers, when you hear the
words "We three kings of Orient are," even if you are attending a
somber worship service, find that your brain automatically responds
with "Smoking on a rubber cigar"? Me, too. It's like at weddings,
when the organist plays "Here comes the bride," and everybody's
brain, including the groom's, automatically responds: "Big, fat and
wide."
But that is not my point. Clearly, I have no point. I just want to
wish you a happy holiday season, and remind you that this is a time
when we are loving and forgiving and not easily offended by newspaper
columns. May your days be merry and bright; may Jack Frost not nip
too hard at your nose; may you be blessed with a big old bowl of
figgy pudding; and -- above all -- may you truly understand the
meaning of the words that have been a beacon of hope to humanity for
thousands of years: "Thumpety thump thump; thumpety thump thump; look
at Frosty go."
