Since I’m not a sissy (and because I don’t work with Mandrakes), I don’t own a pair of earmuffs. If I did, however, I’d likely find them incredibly handy during this time of the year. Every December I am forced to undergo what is tantamount to sonic torture simply because someone, somewhere, decided Christmas* music was a good idea. To be blunt, I find the societal support given to Christmas tunes unfathomable. Between the repetition, the baffling imagery, and the guerilla warfare tactic known as “caroling,” there are many factors that justify my Grinch-like outlook.
*(Please, if the fact that I didn’t use “holiday” offends you, stop reading right now because I’m going to keep saying “Christmas.” You have been warned).
Too Many Versions of the Same Damn Song
Pick any Christmas song. Go ahead, it’s not hard. Got it? Good. Now, I’m willing to bet all my presents under the tree that for whatever song you personally selected, there exists a Dean Martin version, a Frank Sinatra version, a Mariah Carey version, a Skrillex BASSDROP version, and a Taylor Swift This Song Is Subtly About Conor Kennedy version. It blows my mind people actually tolerate this level of mimicry and artistic laziness. It’s nothing more than a blatant cash-grab on the part of these so-called “musicians.”
Also, if a song is truly a classic, people don’t mess with it. The prevalence of Christmas “remixes” proves how lackluster the tracks actually are. For example, you don’t find a hundred versions over the years for songs like “Circle in the Sand” or “My Sharona” because those tracks are perfect as is (plus the world as we know it would collapse under all the Awesome created by a hundred versions of “Circle in the Sand”).
Romanticism of Snow
Do you know how many people snow and cold weather kill every year? The number is probably in the tens of thousands! There is nothing beautiful about a blizzard unless it is the Dairy Queen kind, and even those aren’t all that aesthetically pleasing. Unfortunately, because we in the first world have the comfort of “chestnuts roasting on an open fire” while “the weather outside is frightful,” we distance ourselves from the cold truth about how deadly the winter months can be. It’s deplorable.
I mean, have you seen the movie Frozen? Ask those characters how nice and magical that snow was. (Also, it is by far the best movie to take place almost exclusively on a chair lift, and that’s a pretty competitive category).
You don’t hear songs glorifying tsunamis and hurricanes, yet praising the destructive intrinsic nature of snow is socially acceptable. Why? Is it because snow is white? Because if so that’s pretty racist of all of you.
If I bring a group of rosy-cheeked kids to your doorstep in December and have them interrupt your family dinner so they can vocally maul “Jingle Bells,” you’d probably say it’s cute. If I bring a pack of kids to your doorstep in, say, mid-March (I don’t know where I’m getting all these kids from: don’t ask) and have them perform an acapella rendition of Kid Rock’s “Bawitdaba” or sing “Cyclone” by Baby Bash as a four-part harmony, you’d likely slam the door in my face and call the police. That’s patently unfair.
If the act of “caroling” isn’t condoned in March, it shouldn’t be condoned in December. It’s as simple as that. Don’t come to my house in winter expecting me to embrace your atrocious singing with open arms/ears just because you’re choosing to butcher songs about elves and reindeer. If you do, I’m throwing you in my rancor pit (Also: Santa, if you’re reading this, I’d like a rancor for Christmas, but preferably one more intelligent than the dunce Luke outwitted in Jedi).