Up My Own Ass

It started out innocently enough.  I was listening to Christmas music, allowing myself a modicum of giddiness that Christmas is on its way.  It just isn’t Christmas in my world if I can’t hear Elton inviting us to “step into Christmas” or Bono reminding us “tonight, thank God it’s them instead of you!”

I madeth a joyful noise.

Then my mind went to a dark place.  My heart sank into my stomach, and the joy which burst forth like a geyser from my soul dried up and was now baren, and my chest cavity was an enormous dry socket.  I bolted upright, struggling to catch my breath as memories of Christmases past rushed to fill my mind with horrible, horrible dread… I can barely strike the keys to name the source of my agony without seizing in terror…

Dear Mister Jesus!!!!

The lyrics rattled around in my head like a freight train on ice, reopening long healed synaptic wounds.  In case you don’t recall, Dear Mister Jesus is, for lack of a more succinct description, musical emesis.  Sung by some horrid little girl-child, the lyrics are a prayer to “mister Jesus” regarding another little girl that was severely beaten.

“Please don’t let them hurt your children, we need love and shelter from the storm, please don’t let them hurt your children, won’t you keep us safe and warm?”

Ugh.  Get me a bucket.  This fucking song has nothing to do with Christmas.  NOTHING.  It’s a musical bedpan filled with exploitative diarrhea.  I realize children take beatings and it’s not fair.  Hell, some children NEED to take beatings.  Most kids aren’t beaten ENOUGH, I say.  I think this song makes people WANT to hit children.  I’m even wondering if it didn’t make Jesus want to ball up his fists.  That’s probably why they blessedly stopped playing it (and those atheists say there is no GOD…PEH!).

One of the last lines of the song reveal of the girl-child, “please don’t tell my daddy, but my mommy hits me, too.”  Well, what did you do to piss her off?  I’m guessing you started singing this bullshit…

As if this song isn’t bad enough, there is a newer wad of pablum circulating the radio waves and tickling our gag-reflexes in much the same was as “Dear Little Girl, Won’t You Please Shut the Fuck Up” does.  This one is called “The Christmas Shoes.”

This nightmare tells the story of somebody, standing in the checkout line, who hears the little raggedy boy in line ahead of him trying to buy some shoes for his mom:

“Sir, I wanna buy these shoes for my momma, please.  It’s Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size.  Could you hurry, sir, Daddy says there’s not much time.  You see, she’s been sick for quite a while, and I know these shoes will make her smile, and I want her to look beautiful if Momma meets Jesus tonight.”

So, blah, blah, blah, the point of the song is that he can’t afford the shoes, because he only has a few pennies in his pocket, so the asshole hearing all of this lays the money on the counter and the little boy gets the shoes for his mother.

Where the hell do I even start with this one?  Why the hell does a bedridden and terminal invalid want a pair of shoes?  Why not get her a fucking bicycle that she can’t ride, or maybe some flying lessons?  Seriously.  I’m guessing the shoes looked something like this:

I’m also guessing that “momma” was next door getting her fucking nails done with her welfare money.  That would be the only rational explanation as to how this little bastard got to the mall to get the shoes to begin with… if everyone is supposedly sitting shiva over this woman who is ringing the bell at death’s door, then who gave him the fucking bus fare?

Is it just me, or is this song just filled with rage-inducing logic deficits?

Fuckin’ A, I need to go jingle something.  HO HO HO.