The Uncarorled Christmas

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Every year about this time, mrpeenee takes to the blog waves to complain about Christmas music. Not really complaining so much as loudly whining. “The enforced, albeit fake, good cheer…”, “The ludicrous prostitution of otherwise admirable musicians like Ella Fitzgerald and David Bowie…”, “GET OUT OF MY EARS…” Blah blah blah, you’ve heard it all before, it’s pretty much the sole content of mrpeenee’s Greatest Hits. That and my insistence that pornstars used to be much better looking.

Anyway, this year you’ll be spared my grouching because, for some unknown reason, this year I have been spared Christmas carols. That’s right, not a single drummer boy has crossed my path so far. It’s possible it’s because I have edited down my excursions to nothing more than my daily outing to Peet’s, my cafe of choice. In years past even that wasn’t safe since Peet’s would attempt to cover all bases by playing odd versions of Christmas music: Jazz and multi-ethnic and novelty choons. I have to assume that just annoys everyone equally, maybe that was their goal. But who actually would be longing for a Jamaican cover of “I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In?”

Anyway, all I have to do is make it to a week from Saturday (this must be the time for my annual admission that, because of some odd holiday dyslexia thing, I can never remember the date of Christmas. Every year I have to look it up, often repeatedly. I have it nailed down to something like December 24, 25, or 26, but that’s as close as I can come. I just looked it up AGAIN and, spoiler alert, it’s December 25.) So, a week from Saturday. No matter how much jingle bells they manage to stuff in by then, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to tough it out.

Wise men with whom I wish I was in the stable.

Shapely.

It’s all about the dimples

And now, for our salute to photoshopping:

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

17 responses »

  1. You’re not the only “Xmas-denier” around here, as you know – I know exactly when Xmas is, and treat it with the disdain it deserves. We haven’t even dug out our single solitary humbug to hang on a piece of thread yet; that’s how “festive” we are. Jx

    PS nice baubles

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  2. Count your blessings, Peenee. You’ve been VERY lucky to avoid hearing tons of crappy holiday music. Now I don’t mind some Brenda Lee or Darlene Love, but Mariah Carey’s holiday abomination is on heavy rotation this year. It’s being played so often that all I want for Christmas is for Ms. Carey to STFU! (That, and Model #2…)

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  3. Now that I’m in my own wee suite, I watch & listen to whatever the fuck I want.
    Not a Xmas tune in sight and it’s positively delightful.

    BTW- Not that you asked, but I got thrown off Twitter, AGAIN. It’s not easy coming up with these stage names, but if anyone’s interested, I’m now Endora Rosenblatt.

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  4. Did you somehow manage to pack those damn carols in my suitcase? Because I’ve been FLOODED with them. And the most offensive ones were at my doctor’s office. Honestly, that does NOT help my blood pressure.

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  5. I, too, have been spared any Christmas songs this year. Well, except for the Carol Wagon that drove up the street yesterday evening blaring carols out for those of us too miserable to come down to the village green for a sing-a-long. Bah!

    So, what happened at Peets that you no longer hear Christmas songs there? Have they been listening to you?

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  6. In old town Benidorm, hidden amongst the Christmas lights that adorn the streets are speakers that pipe out Christmas songs from 10am to 10pm they is no getting away from it, have you ever heard Little Drummer Boy being played on the Hammond organ? It sounds sinister and macabre and I never want to visit that place during the Christmas period ever again.

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