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.
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16. November 2008 at 9:47 pm
lol, omfg. So wrong…but so right.
16. November 2008 at 10:04 pm
It’s like therapy!
16. November 2008 at 10:34 pm
Wow…I had no idea how much you hated that song. I’m glad I kept the receipt.
17. November 2008 at 7:27 am
Ok, just for the record, I had no idea what song you were talking about… is it this one?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I0PVV5wrz2I
I’ve never heard that song, but I have since filed it in the “reasons I might punch someone in the eyes” category.
I think this, and Fruitcakes, might motivate me to become Jewish.
17. November 2008 at 9:31 am
yeah…that’s the one. thanks for making me have to kick my dog…nice. REAL NICE.
And who the hell put that friggin’ montage together????
Mazel Tov.
17. November 2008 at 8:18 pm
I hate that fucking song. The end.
18. November 2008 at 3:33 pm
Hahaha…go Katie!! Nothing like a good anger-filled rant to get the pot stirrin’…excellent!!
18. November 2008 at 5:56 pm
Well, C.J., I am nothing if not anger-filled…happy holidays!
7. December 2009 at 2:49 pm
oh get real. ya’ll r dumb. Oh boo hoo. I have to be a dick because no one loves me at Christmas. Maybe it will make people think I’m a badass. Good luck with that, you disrespectful, souless crazy lady!!!
7. December 2009 at 2:54 pm
It doesn’t even say he went to the mall or rode the bus, or that his mother was an invalid. dumbass. she was fucking dying. She didn’t want the shoes, you stupid fuck. the little boy wanted her to have something nice before she died. Listen to the shit before you start spouting retarted shit out all over the internet. and why is the nice man who’d help a poor child an asshole?? You’re an asshole. get over yourself, cunt. I bet u wanna delete this so you don’t look like a tard in front of your “friends.” Pay attention to shit before you act like a dumbass. my 9 year old son pays more attention than you! He’s probably smarter too. lol. Dumbass!
7. December 2009 at 6:35 pm
You’re retarded, I wouldn’t DREAM of deleting your comment. It’s entirely too hilarious.
Since You’re retarded and This is gay are obviously the same person, I need only comment once.
I am not a dick, I am an insufferable, unforgiving bitch. Everyone loves me. Christmas wouldn’t even HAPPEN without me. That’s how important I am.
Judging by your ridiculously foul language, you must have some sort of axe to grind. Was this song written about YOU? Are you the dirty little boy child trying to panhandle some hooker shoes for your dying mother?
You poor, poor dear. I could have just given you my OWN dead mother’s whore shoes.
Merry Christmas!
7. December 2009 at 6:38 pm
Actually,You’re Retarded, the little boy wanted her to look nice for Jesus if she died that night. “I want her to look beautiful if Momma meets Jesus tonight.” Way to pay attention. Next time maybe you should have your nine year old read it to you before you post. But hey, way to ineffectively dis someone with barely readable sentences and needless profanity.