Crappy Christmas carols

Mark Kleiman hatin' on Frosty the Snowman before Thanksgiving is here. Eager to avoid the wrath of Bill O'Reilly, he is careful to point out that his problem is with secularized Christmas music, not, say, Adeste Fideles. Kevin Drum, who as far as I know is not a believer, agrees, and proposes that O'Reilly and Kleiman ally themselves in a War on Bad Christmas Music.

I'm glad that there are some secularists out there who appreciate Christian artistry, if not Christian doctrine.

The comments, naturally, devolve into an argument about which Holiday Carol is the crappiest. A couple point out that Frosty the Snowman and I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus are really kinda creepy and sinister, if you think about them, which reminds me to link to this post by Camassia about pop songs you loved in middle school which, in retrospect, make you want to go Eww.

But if you really want your soul sucked out of you, you should wait tables at Ruby Tuesday during the Holiday Season. The soundtrack satisfies one's spiritual and aesthetic palate as well as flat Diet Coke. The absolute dregs was Christmas Is Going to the Dogs, by eels. You can listen to it here! Since the song blatantly violated management's mandatory perkiness, a co-worker was convinced a surly employee in the home office slipped it in as a subliminal critique of where the company was going. 

I don't miss waiting tables, but I do miss my co-workers, who cope with daily humiliation by cultivating the best sense of humor of any group of people I've ever met. So a dreadful song like Christmas Is Going to the Dogs is able to evoke feelings of nostalgia that I'll Be Home for Christmas could never. Ironic, eh?

Comments

[Lee]

I worked part-time at the Gap during grad school, and those "holiday tapes" they would play on an incessant loop starting November 1st, plus the general grouchiness of people shopping for Christmas, was almost enough to put me off the holiday altogether. No longer working in retail (or shopping in malls) may be the single thing most responsible for my current enjoyment of the season.