I have a theory that most great academic work is undertaken in order to prove somebody else wrong. There's nothing quite like the rush that comes from getting to do an obnoxious "told you so" dance, and--if you're a nerd like me--that joy is easily multiplied tenfold when you get to footnote your gloating with sources and facts and snooty research. (Or, in this case, "research" with air quotes.)
It's not unlike a sugar rush, you might say. What an appropriate analogy, because we're talking about Halloween candy! You might think tonight is just a night for costumes and free candy (or, if you're an adult, costumes and booze), but for me, it was the scene of a grand experiment.
BACKGROUND
Like all great experiments, mine had its roots in a great debate. But first, I need to set the scene. My sister and I, being your typical millennials, both live at home still. The difference between living at home as a teenager and living at home as an adult, however, is that when Halloween rolls around, you are now in charge of buying the candy instead of just eating it with wild abandon.
But since communication is apparently not one of Tracey's and my strong points, we did not coordinate on the purchase of our Halloween candy. Which meant that we ended up with ten bags of various fun-sized chocolate bars, a fact that I did not discover until about a week before Halloween, when I mentioned to my father that I'd bought some candy.
"I think Tracey did, too," he said. "But what did you get?"
"100 Grands," I said. "3 Musketeers. Yorks."
"YORKS?!" my dad shouted. He was driving at the time, and I half-expected him to dramatically slam on the brakes in indignation and disbelief. "You bought Yorks? That's the worst candy ever!"
"I like Yorks!" I insisted. "Who doesn't love peppermint? I never used to get them in my treat bag as a kid--"
He snorted. I ignored him.
"--and I would have liked to, so I got them as a service to all the other neighborhood kids."
"I was listening to the radio the other day," he said, disregarding my impassioned defense of peppermint patties, "and they voted those the worst candies. What else did you get?"
"Butterfingers," I said, feeling confident in this choice, at least.
"You got all the terrible ones!" he cackled. "That was like the third worst on the list."
"I've never met someone who doesn't like Butterfingers!" I insisted. "I mean, maybe some of my friends don't really like them like them, but I've never met anyone who vehemently dislikes them."
"I hope Tracey picked better candies than you," was the only rejoinder I got.
The next day, I had the chance to ask Tracey which candies she'd bought. "Milky Ways, Kit-Kats, Snickers, 100 Grands, Crunch, and Butterfingers," she said. "Why, what did you get?"
"100 Grand, Butterfingers, 3 Musketeers, and Yorks," I said.
"YORKS?!" she hooted. "What are you, eighty-five years old?!"
"WHAT DID I TELL YOU?" my dad shouted, appearing out of nowhere to gloat.
"Do you hate children?" Tracey said. "Do you even want people to come to our house?"
It was then that I decided to take on what is undoubtedly the greatest, most relevant, and most important experiment of our time: I was going to prove that Yorks are a legitimate Halloween candy choice, dammit, or I was going to die trying.
THE (100) GRAND EXPERIMENT
I was the sole person in charge of distributing candy this year, given that everyone else conveniently had plans to be out of the house during prime trick-or-treating time. So I put my plan in motion.
I emptied all the available 100 Grands and Butterfingers into the candy basket without bothering to count them--since Tracey and I had both picked them, they weren't part of the argument. I decided to put in equal numbers of all the other candies and observe which, if any, were left at the end of the night. Due to the fact that Tracey had taken some of her candy to distribute among her coworkers, I had only 14 Snickers and 14 Kit-Kats left to work with, so I put 14 of each type of candy into the basket, mixed things up as well as I could, and waited for 6:00 to roll around.
The first hour or so went by pretty uneventfully. The kids were told they could each take one piece of candy, although I saw a couple sneak two. (Clearly scientific variables mean NOTHING to these children.) At 6:55--nearly the halfway point for the trick-or-treating window in our town--I took a tally of what remained (excluding, once again, the 100 Grands and the Butterfingers). Here's what was left:
Snickers = 11 (79% remaining)
Kit Kat = 3 (21% remaining)
Milky Way = 7 (50% remaining)
Crunch = 3 (21% remaining)
Tracey's candy = 43% remaining
Yorks = 7 (50% remaining)
3 Musketeers = 5 (36% remaining)
Renée's candy = 43% remaining
OH SNAP!
Although it's still anyone's game in terms of statistics, so far anecdotal evidence unfortunately appears to support the hypothesis that Yorks are "the worst candy ever," as I watched one little boy pick up a Yorks, realize what it was, debate putting it back, decide it would be rude, and put it into his bag with a palpable mixture of disappointment and vague resentment.
Things really got interesting around 7:15, when a group of around 30 kids traveling in what can only be described as a herd descended upon my doorstep. Two little girls argued over the last Yorks in the basket--score one for Yorks!--and, as a side note, about a quarter of the group went absolutely ga-ga over the Butterfingers, saying we were the first house to have them. Weird.
Needless to say, at 7:20 the breakdown of remaining candy was dramatically different.
Snickers = 1* (< 1 % remaining)
Kit Kat = 0 (0% remaining)
Milky Way = 4 (29% remaining)
Crunch = 1 (< 1% remaining)
Tracey's candy = 11% remaining
*There were actually 2 Snickers of the original 14 remaining, but the package was wide open so I removed it from the basket. I'm many things, but I'm not the sort of person to feed children suspicious candy bars.
Yorks = 0 (0% remaining)
3 Musketeers = 1 (< 1% remaining)
Renée's candy = < 1 % remaining
At this point, we were running low on candy, so I had to add a few bars. I was all out of Snickers and Kit-Kats, though, so I just added 2 candies each of Milky Way, Crunch, Yorks, and 3 Musketeers. (All future percentages for those candies will therefore be calculated using a total of 16 candies instead of 14, because that's how math works. I think. I was an English major and we're talking about Halloween candy; you should really just take all of this with a grain of salt.)
After the giant pack of York-loving children departed, the rest of the night was pretty quiet, although I did have this gem of a conversation with three of the last trick-or-treaters of the night, all of whom were probably under seven or eight years old:
Girl: Are there any more Kit-Kats?
Me: No, not anymore. We had some earlier, but they went really quickly.
Girl, with the air of a defense attorney cross-examining a witness: But there WERE Kit-Kats at one point?
Me: Yeah, but they're all gone now.
Boy #1: Did the big kids get 'em?
Me: I think so.
Boy #2, arriving on the scene: I like Kit-Kats, too.
Me: I know, they're good! But we don't have any more.
Boy #2: I think I've got a Kit-Kat in here somewhere.
He rummages through his candy bag, finds a Kit-Kat, and holds it up for inspection.
Boy #2: There it is!
Me, at a loss: Yep, that's a Kit-Kat...!
Awkward pause as Boy #2 combs extensively through all the remaining candy in the basket.
Boy #2: I don't really like any of this candy.
Me: No?
Boy #2: Yeah. I guess I'll just...
He picks up a 100 Grand, puts it back, ignores his friends calling him impatiently from across the yard, picks up a Butterfinger, hesitates, starts to put it back, then bags it with a "what the hell, why not?" sort of attitude.
Boy #2: Thank you!
Me: ...!
Kids, man. They're priceless.
By the end of the night, the numbers were as follows:
Snickers = 0*/14 (0% remaining)
Kit Kat = 0/14 (0% remaining)
Milky Way = 1/16 (< 1 % remaining)
Crunch = 0/16 (0% remaining)
Tracey's candy = 0.01667% remaining
*Still one Snickers technically left that's not counting toward the total. But let's be real, it probably would have gone anyway.
Yorks = 0/16 (0% remaining)
3 Musketeers = 1/16 (< 1% remaining)
Renée's candy = 0.03125% remaining
CONCLUSION
So Tracey beat me, but only barely. We both finished with less than one percent of our candy remaining, and the thing that kept me from winning, it really must be noted, was NOT a Yorks Peppermint Patty. I can only conclude that Yorks are not the worst candy ever, and my family really needs to have more faith in my candy-picking abilities.
Now...here's to a statistics-free November!
And that's how nerds do Halloween.
Friday, October 31, 2014
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Racket Bracket, Day Seven:
Now for some creative takes on Christmas classics!
Neil Diamond's "Hallelujah Chorus"
In a word: YAH.
Select lyrics: The lyrics are divine (thanks, Handel). It's the execution that's the problem.
Defining characteristics: NEIL FREAKING DIAMOND.
Evaluation: I'll make this really simple. There are some songs that should be sung by Neil Diamond and there are some songs that should never, ever be sung be Neil Diamond.
Songs that should be sung by Neil Diamond: Cracklin' Rosie, America, Sweet Caroline
Songs that should never, ever be sung by Neil Diamond: The Hallelujah Chorus
The Hallelujah Chorus is a CHORUS. It is not meant to showcase one particular singer, especially one as Neil Diamond-y as Neil Diamond. Because while a Neil Diamond-esque emphasis sounds really great when you're ushering in a key change in "Cracklin' Rosie" (MAH BAY-BEH!), it does not sound so great when you saying things like "For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth, hallelujah!"
(Real talk: I just took a three-minute break to sing "Cracklin' Rosie.")
ANYHOO, there's not really a set melody line in the Hallelujah Chorus, so Neil just sort of jumps around from part to part at will. The choir nerd in me is crying. If only it were that easy, Neil! Plus everything is sung so forcefully that it sounds less like a heavenly choir and more like someone's drunk Grandpa on Christmas Eve, teetering in a rocking chair and spilling hot buttered rum everywhere.
So that's one take on a Christmas classic. Let's see how Sarah McLachlan does with hers.
The First Noel/Mary Mary
In a word: Um, creative?
Select lyrics:
Evaluation: I haven't decided if this song is genius or a big ol' mess. First of all, it's a mash-up, I guess, which should win it points. Who doesn't love a mash-up? Of course, it helps when one of the songs you're mashing--in this case, "The First Noel"--actually sounds like, well, "The First Noel." If you were to hum this song at me and make me guess what it was, never in a million years would I come up with "The First Noel."(I would probably guess "Desert Rose" by Sting. Make of that what you will.)
Second, I've never heard of any Christmas song entitled "Mary Mary." Maybe this is just a musical blind spot specific to me, but I googled it and came up with nothing. Wikipedia did helpfully inform me, however, that several groups have performed songs titled "Mary Mary," including the Monkees (which I knew) and Chumbawumba (which I did not). I think I speak for all of us here when I say that I would love to hear Chumbawumba's version of "Mary Mary" mashed up with a Christmas song--any Christmas song. That would be magical.
Anyway, back to the version of "Mary Mary" we actually have in front of us. The lyrics kill me.
Also, the universe has presented you with a child that will literally die for your sins and the only complimentary phrase you can come up with is "pretty little baby, yes, pretty little baby"? I would have gone with something like, "Who's mama's majestic little sin-eater?" but that's just me.
So. That's that.
Final verdict: Tough call, but as I still haven't figured out if "The First Noel/Mary Mary" is a landmark reimagining of a Christmas classic or just a monstrosity, I'll have to go with "The Hallelujah Chorus," which is just straight-up terrible.
Coming up: "The Gift" dukes it out with "Where Are You, Christmas?"
Neil Diamond's "Hallelujah Chorus"
In a word: YAH.
Select lyrics: The lyrics are divine (thanks, Handel). It's the execution that's the problem.
Defining characteristics: NEIL FREAKING DIAMOND.
Evaluation: I'll make this really simple. There are some songs that should be sung by Neil Diamond and there are some songs that should never, ever be sung be Neil Diamond.
Songs that should be sung by Neil Diamond: Cracklin' Rosie, America, Sweet Caroline
Songs that should never, ever be sung by Neil Diamond: The Hallelujah Chorus
The Hallelujah Chorus is a CHORUS. It is not meant to showcase one particular singer, especially one as Neil Diamond-y as Neil Diamond. Because while a Neil Diamond-esque emphasis sounds really great when you're ushering in a key change in "Cracklin' Rosie" (MAH BAY-BEH!), it does not sound so great when you saying things like "For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth, hallelujah!"
(Real talk: I just took a three-minute break to sing "Cracklin' Rosie.")
ANYHOO, there's not really a set melody line in the Hallelujah Chorus, so Neil just sort of jumps around from part to part at will. The choir nerd in me is crying. If only it were that easy, Neil! Plus everything is sung so forcefully that it sounds less like a heavenly choir and more like someone's drunk Grandpa on Christmas Eve, teetering in a rocking chair and spilling hot buttered rum everywhere.
So that's one take on a Christmas classic. Let's see how Sarah McLachlan does with hers.
The First Noel/Mary Mary
In a word: Um, creative?
Select lyrics:
Some call Him Emanuel, think I'll call him JesusDefining characteristics: It's hard to name another Christmas song that doesn't actually have a discernible tune...so that, I guess.
Yes, think I'll call him Jesus
Yes, pretty little Jesus
Glory be to the newborn king
Evaluation: I haven't decided if this song is genius or a big ol' mess. First of all, it's a mash-up, I guess, which should win it points. Who doesn't love a mash-up? Of course, it helps when one of the songs you're mashing--in this case, "The First Noel"--actually sounds like, well, "The First Noel." If you were to hum this song at me and make me guess what it was, never in a million years would I come up with "The First Noel."(I would probably guess "Desert Rose" by Sting. Make of that what you will.)
Second, I've never heard of any Christmas song entitled "Mary Mary." Maybe this is just a musical blind spot specific to me, but I googled it and came up with nothing. Wikipedia did helpfully inform me, however, that several groups have performed songs titled "Mary Mary," including the Monkees (which I knew) and Chumbawumba (which I did not). I think I speak for all of us here when I say that I would love to hear Chumbawumba's version of "Mary Mary" mashed up with a Christmas song--any Christmas song. That would be magical.
Anyway, back to the version of "Mary Mary" we actually have in front of us. The lyrics kill me.
Mary, Mary had a little babyOh, cool, on first name terms with the Messiah, are you? That's swell.
Yes, pretty little baby
Yes, pretty little baby
Glory be to the newborn king
Some call Him Emanuel, think I'll call him Jesus
Yes, think I'll call him Jesus
Yes, pretty little Jesus
Glory be to the newborn king
Also, the universe has presented you with a child that will literally die for your sins and the only complimentary phrase you can come up with is "pretty little baby, yes, pretty little baby"? I would have gone with something like, "Who's mama's majestic little sin-eater?" but that's just me.
So. That's that.
§
Final verdict: Tough call, but as I still haven't figured out if "The First Noel/Mary Mary" is a landmark reimagining of a Christmas classic or just a monstrosity, I'll have to go with "The Hallelujah Chorus," which is just straight-up terrible.
Coming up: "The Gift" dukes it out with "Where Are You, Christmas?"
Racket Bracket, Day Six: Santa Brings Nothing But Heartache...and Presents
Well. I knew when I started this little project that it was a tad on the ambitious side. But seriously, I said to myself, how hard can one blog entry per day be? I write for a living! This is exactly like the job I already do, except way more fun and much less of a downer, because I'm ragging on Christmas music instead of exhorting dictators to stop electrocuting children. (I'M LOOKING AT YOU, BAHRAIN!)
Anyway. It turns out that keeping to a one-post-a-day schedule is apparently very taxing, but I'm trying to make amends! Time to flood the blog with updates, starting with "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" and "Santa Baby." Ready...go!
Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer
In a word: Dark.
Select lyrics:
Evaluation: This is one of those songs that is so annoying that it sort of crosses back over into likeability. But man, is it dark. Much in the same way that "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" is actually about the mom kissing the dad, "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" is actually about grandpa pulling off the crime of the century and pinning it on old Saint Nick. Good Lord, between the alleged homewrecking and the alleged MURDER, why does anyone actively invite Santa into their home anymore?
But the family in this song really needs to bear more of the blame here. First of all, the entire reason Grandma is traversing the street alone on Christmas Eve is that she forgot her medication. She was also drunk off eggnog. WHO LET GRANDMA MIX BOOZE AND PILLS?! Jesus Christ, guys, that's the first thing they teach you NOT to do in Caring For the Elderly 101. Second thing: don't let inebriated (or even non-inebriated) grandparents walk home alone through the snow. Although your normal worst-case scenario would be something along the lines of a broken hip, sometimes things take a sinister turn and you get run down by a mythical creature and his flying livestock. Or, you know, your husband kills you. Because the song is ABOUT GRANDPA THE EVIL GENIUS OMG SOMEONE ARREST HIM ALREADY.
Instead of calling in Hercule Poirot to drop some sassy bon mots and wrap this up in between turkey and presents, the family just carries on with the holiday, with Grandpa "watchin' football, drinkin' beer and playin' cards with cousin Belle." This is pretty disturbing in and of itself, but the music video accompanying the song make it even weirder and sort of incesty. Please tell me that cousin Belle is actually "cousin" Belle and is not technically related to anyone in this family, because otherwise it is very possible that Grandpa offed his wife to run off with his granddaughter.
Bet your family looks pretty good now, huh?
Santa Baby
In a word: Suggestive.
Select lyrics:
Evaluation: Taylor Swift does a cover of this song. Just let that sink in for a minute.
Ariana Grande also does one, apparently. I have no idea who Ariana Grande is, but I know that she looks like she's about fourteen and the idea of her singing this song makes me distinctly uncomfortable, although not as uncomfortable as the whole Grandpa-Cousin Belle thing.
Anyway, this song was not initially on my list of annoying music. I'll grant that this song is highly problematic, especially Madonna's sexy baby voice version, but I don't personally find it super annoying; I added it to the list as a concession to one of the co-workers I consulted during the list-making process. If you'll recall, my sole Christmas song rule is that adults can't sing songs meant to be sung by kids. His one rule is that Christmas songs should not try to make Christmas sexy. "Christmas is not a sexy holiday!" he insisted. Well, maybe not compared to Valentine's Day; in comparison with something like Groundhog Day it's downright smutteriffic. But point taken.
Anyway, if you don't like the idea of A Very Sexxxy Christmas then you will surely despise "Santa Baby," whose basic premise is "I like presents, and I like sex. How can I use one to obtain the other?" It's all very wink-wink-nudge-nudge, but it's there nevertheless. Merry Christmas, kids! Between this, Grandpa, and Cousin Belle, it's shaping up to be a very traumatic--or at least confusing--holiday.
Final verdict: Both of these songs are pretty terrible for obvious reasons, and yet...I sort of like both of them. If I have to pick one, though, it's "Grandma" for the win.
Tomorrow (or, more accurately, an hour from now because I'm still catching up): Neil Diamond's "Hallelujah" versus Sarah McLachlan's "The First Noel/Mary Mary."
Anyway. It turns out that keeping to a one-post-a-day schedule is apparently very taxing, but I'm trying to make amends! Time to flood the blog with updates, starting with "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" and "Santa Baby." Ready...go!
Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer
In a word: Dark.
Select lyrics:
Grandma got run over by a reindeerDefining characteristics: An inexplicable lack of discussion about whether or not Grandpa has an alibi
Walking home from our house Christmas eve
You can say there's no such thing as Santa
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe
Evaluation: This is one of those songs that is so annoying that it sort of crosses back over into likeability. But man, is it dark. Much in the same way that "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" is actually about the mom kissing the dad, "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer" is actually about grandpa pulling off the crime of the century and pinning it on old Saint Nick. Good Lord, between the alleged homewrecking and the alleged MURDER, why does anyone actively invite Santa into their home anymore?
But the family in this song really needs to bear more of the blame here. First of all, the entire reason Grandma is traversing the street alone on Christmas Eve is that she forgot her medication. She was also drunk off eggnog. WHO LET GRANDMA MIX BOOZE AND PILLS?! Jesus Christ, guys, that's the first thing they teach you NOT to do in Caring For the Elderly 101. Second thing: don't let inebriated (or even non-inebriated) grandparents walk home alone through the snow. Although your normal worst-case scenario would be something along the lines of a broken hip, sometimes things take a sinister turn and you get run down by a mythical creature and his flying livestock. Or, you know, your husband kills you. Because the song is ABOUT GRANDPA THE EVIL GENIUS OMG SOMEONE ARREST HIM ALREADY.
Instead of calling in Hercule Poirot to drop some sassy bon mots and wrap this up in between turkey and presents, the family just carries on with the holiday, with Grandpa "watchin' football, drinkin' beer and playin' cards with cousin Belle." This is pretty disturbing in and of itself, but the music video accompanying the song make it even weirder and sort of incesty. Please tell me that cousin Belle is actually "cousin" Belle and is not technically related to anyone in this family, because otherwise it is very possible that Grandpa offed his wife to run off with his granddaughter.
Bet your family looks pretty good now, huh?
Santa Baby
In a word: Suggestive.
Select lyrics:
Santa honey, I want a yacht and really that'sDefining characteristics: Sex sex sex sex sex. And also materialism.
Not a lot
I've been an angel all year
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Santa cutie, there's one thing I really do need, the deed
To a platinum mine
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Evaluation: Taylor Swift does a cover of this song. Just let that sink in for a minute.
Ariana Grande also does one, apparently. I have no idea who Ariana Grande is, but I know that she looks like she's about fourteen and the idea of her singing this song makes me distinctly uncomfortable, although not as uncomfortable as the whole Grandpa-Cousin Belle thing.
Anyway, this song was not initially on my list of annoying music. I'll grant that this song is highly problematic, especially Madonna's sexy baby voice version, but I don't personally find it super annoying; I added it to the list as a concession to one of the co-workers I consulted during the list-making process. If you'll recall, my sole Christmas song rule is that adults can't sing songs meant to be sung by kids. His one rule is that Christmas songs should not try to make Christmas sexy. "Christmas is not a sexy holiday!" he insisted. Well, maybe not compared to Valentine's Day; in comparison with something like Groundhog Day it's downright smutteriffic. But point taken.
Anyway, if you don't like the idea of A Very Sexxxy Christmas then you will surely despise "Santa Baby," whose basic premise is "I like presents, and I like sex. How can I use one to obtain the other?" It's all very wink-wink-nudge-nudge, but it's there nevertheless. Merry Christmas, kids! Between this, Grandpa, and Cousin Belle, it's shaping up to be a very traumatic--or at least confusing--holiday.
Final verdict: Both of these songs are pretty terrible for obvious reasons, and yet...I sort of like both of them. If I have to pick one, though, it's "Grandma" for the win.
Tomorrow (or, more accurately, an hour from now because I'm still catching up): Neil Diamond's "Hallelujah" versus Sarah McLachlan's "The First Noel/Mary Mary."
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Racket Bracket, Day Five: Hey Santa, Bring Shoes
Hey, it's me. I'm back. I had an attack of the Lazies and spent the last several days doing things that were definitely not writing. But here I am, still lazy but resolved to catch up on the past few days' worth of annoying Christmas songs. And "The Christmas Shoes" is here to kick (pun intended) things off. How will it fare against "Hey Santa"? Let's find out!
The Christmas Shoes
In a word: There are no words.
Select lyrics:
Evaluation: Hating "The Christmas Shoes" has, it seems, become something of a Christmas tradition in its own right. If YouTube comments sections are to be believed, however, there is a small but very vehement contingent of the population that loves "The Christmas Shoes." I mean LOVES it. I've seen proponents of "The Christmas Shoes" offer gloomy prophesies of Hell for people who happen to dislike the song. ("I'll pray for your soul," one commenter offered.)
Hell does not faze me. It can't be as bad as "The Christmas Shoes."
Hey, Santa
In a word: Singsong.
Select lyrics:
Defining characteristics: Aside from an annoying hook, we're all over the place here.
Evaluation: I'm not really sure what this song is trying to achieve. The first verse gets all introspective:
Okay. Seems a bit like we're veering into "Grown-Up Christmas List" or "Believe" territory here, but I'll follow. What else you got?
But anyway, okay. Assuming Santa could actually throw "more harmony" in a gift bag and chuck it down your chimney, what would you say to him? What other altruistic abstract gift requests have you got?
And what is Santa supposed to do about it anyway?
You know who might provide your boyfriend a ride to your front door? An actual taxi service. If your boyfriend is too cheap to hire a real taxi (or, if he's strapped for cash, pay for a real bus ticket), he does not deserve a ride from Father Christmas, okay? (If he can afford neither a bus ticket nor a taxi fare, you should probably wish for him to have something practical, like a pair of sensible Christmas shoes, before you start requesting that Santa Apparate him onto your doorstep or some nonsense like that.)
Also, the fact that the boyfriend is never referred to anything but "my baby" (and on one occasion, "my wish") throughout the entirety of the song just irks me. UNLESS! Alternate explanation time here:
The song is about a sad mother whose baby has disappeared--been spirited away by fairies (faeries? I feel like "fairies" do nice things but "faeries" steal babies and lure travelers into bogs and whatnot. Am I just making this up, or is this an actual thing?) or kidnapped and held for ransom by terrorists who are now spending their Christmas in a firefight with Bruce Willis. The reason isn't really important.
Anyway, the mom misses her kid and wants Santa to bring him home. This would explain why Santa needs to provide transportation (no kid has the money for a taxi, riding a bus alone is just ill-advised at any age but especially if you are under twelve, and obviously one can't expect a kidnapped toddler to pop into the nearest Enterprise and rent a sensible sedan). This would also explain that preoccupation the song's narrator has with sleeping children.
No, wait, I just got to the ending line about mistletoe. Now I sincerely hope this song is not about an actual child.
Final verdict: "Hey Santa" is annoying but mainly harmless. "The Christmas Shoes" is a smug, self-satisfied, obnoxious song that cannot even be redeemed by Patton Oswalt's hilarious send-up of it. "Christmas Shoes" moves on.
The Christmas Shoes
In a word: There are no words.
Select lyrics:
Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Mama, pleaseDefining characteristics: Smarmy, self-satisfied humanitarianism, possibly a scathing indictment of capitalism?
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 would make her smile
And I want her to look beautiful if Mama meets Jesus tonight
Evaluation: Hating "The Christmas Shoes" has, it seems, become something of a Christmas tradition in its own right. If YouTube comments sections are to be believed, however, there is a small but very vehement contingent of the population that loves "The Christmas Shoes." I mean LOVES it. I've seen proponents of "The Christmas Shoes" offer gloomy prophesies of Hell for people who happen to dislike the song. ("I'll pray for your soul," one commenter offered.)
Hell does not faze me. It can't be as bad as "The Christmas Shoes."
Hey, Santa
In a word: Singsong.
Select lyrics:
Hey Santa
Hey Santa...Santa
I wish with all my might
Hey Santa
Hey Santa...Santa
Bring my baby home tonight
Defining characteristics: Aside from an annoying hook, we're all over the place here.
Evaluation: I'm not really sure what this song is trying to achieve. The first verse gets all introspective:
If every day was Christmas
If we could make believe
If everyone would care a little more
There'd be harmony
Okay. Seems a bit like we're veering into "Grown-Up Christmas List" or "Believe" territory here, but I'll follow. What else you got?
The city is covered in snow tonightOkay. I'll say this again: SANTA AND GOD ARE NOT THE SAME PERSON. Santa is to God what a personal shopper is to...well, God. One is in charge of helping you accumulate as many material goods as possible. The other one sent his son to tell everyone to renounce material goods. This is a problematic link you're trying to make here.
The children fast asleep
I'm waiting for him, but he's nowhere in sight
And I wonder if he can hear me
But anyway, okay. Assuming Santa could actually throw "more harmony" in a gift bag and chuck it down your chimney, what would you say to him? What other altruistic abstract gift requests have you got?
Bring my baby home tonightThat's it? Really? You started out on such a grand scale and then you dialed it back reeeeally quickly. All that crap about harmony and caring was just a smokescreen so you could speed up your boyfriend's travel agenda? Lady, this is not what Christmas is about.
And what is Santa supposed to do about it anyway?
I know your sleigh is full insideSeriously? Santa has to traverse the entire globe giving presents to ungrateful snots like you, and you want him to give rides to your pals? Do you see a sign that says "North Pole Taxi Service" on this sleigh? DO YOU? I thought not.
But won't you stop and give my baby a ride
You know who might provide your boyfriend a ride to your front door? An actual taxi service. If your boyfriend is too cheap to hire a real taxi (or, if he's strapped for cash, pay for a real bus ticket), he does not deserve a ride from Father Christmas, okay? (If he can afford neither a bus ticket nor a taxi fare, you should probably wish for him to have something practical, like a pair of sensible Christmas shoes, before you start requesting that Santa Apparate him onto your doorstep or some nonsense like that.)
Also, the fact that the boyfriend is never referred to anything but "my baby" (and on one occasion, "my wish") throughout the entirety of the song just irks me. UNLESS! Alternate explanation time here:
The song is about a sad mother whose baby has disappeared--been spirited away by fairies (faeries? I feel like "fairies" do nice things but "faeries" steal babies and lure travelers into bogs and whatnot. Am I just making this up, or is this an actual thing?) or kidnapped and held for ransom by terrorists who are now spending their Christmas in a firefight with Bruce Willis. The reason isn't really important.
Anyway, the mom misses her kid and wants Santa to bring him home. This would explain why Santa needs to provide transportation (no kid has the money for a taxi, riding a bus alone is just ill-advised at any age but especially if you are under twelve, and obviously one can't expect a kidnapped toddler to pop into the nearest Enterprise and rent a sensible sedan). This would also explain that preoccupation the song's narrator has with sleeping children.
No, wait, I just got to the ending line about mistletoe. Now I sincerely hope this song is not about an actual child.
Final verdict: "Hey Santa" is annoying but mainly harmless. "The Christmas Shoes" is a smug, self-satisfied, obnoxious song that cannot even be redeemed by Patton Oswalt's hilarious send-up of it. "Christmas Shoes" moves on.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Racket Bracket, Day Four: Sleigh-Riding Through Some Marshmallows or Something
I'm still feeling lazy. Pretend there's an intro here.
[...]
And that brings us to today's selections, Marshmallow World and Jingle Bells (the Streisand version--that caveat is important). Let's jump right in!
Marshmallow World
In a word: Tra-la-la. (It's hyphenated, it counts as one word.)
Select lyrics:
Oh God, this song. This song is so sugary sweet that it makes Candyland look like Oat Bran Fun Time. Here are the all the food metaphors contained in this song:
Sorry, just have to interject with this:
Moving on:
Except hold up, because not one of these metaphors is actually apt. We've already settled the "pumpkin head" issue, but "marshmallow world"? "Whipped cream day"? First of all, marshmallows and whipped cream are nothing alike, so at least one of those is wrong (since they are purportedly describing the same thing). Second of all, neither of those is anything like snow, so they're actually both wrong. This entire song is a house of cards built on a foundation of sand or, as circumstances would have it, a house of sugar built on a foundation of more sugar.
Which brings me to what is perhaps the most salient point here: if you're going to compare snow to sugary things, why not just go with straight-up SUGAR? Anyone who's ever made a gingerbread house knows that powdered sugar and a gently picturesque winter snowfall are basically the same thing. A "marshmallow world" just sounds terrifying. Where do you step? Marshmallows are so springy; it'd be like walking on tiny, sticky trampolines!
I can buy marshmallow clouds, maybe. The phrase "yum-yummy world" makes me want to upchuckle but I will allow it because things do look sugar-coated after its snows. I'm still trying to figure out if "sugar date" refers to a literal date (as in the fruit) that has been coated in sugar or is yet another metaphor for having a swell time out on the town with your best gal.
I imagine this song was the product of a middle-school creative writing assignment ("Briefly describe a scene using metaphors") assigned to hungry students the period just before lunchtime. That seems like it would explain things.
Jingle Bells (Streisand version)
In a word: Nerve-wracking. (Hyphens!)
Select lyrics: You already know the lyrics. The lyrics are not the problem here.
Defining characteristics: Speed speed speed speed speed speed speed speed.
Evaluation: This song sends my blood pressure through the roof. I don't mean that hyperbolically, like I do when I say things like, "'Marshmallow World' might give me diabetes." I mean it in a very literal sense. I can feel my stress level ticking upward from the very first note. It's really saying something that I can happily rock out to a Christmas song that scolds me for how I've wronged and neglected the people of Ethiopia but I can't handle ten seconds of a song about a devil-may-care afternoon of sleighing.
This song is "Jingle Bells" if "Jingle Bells" were a stressed-out college freshman strung out on Five-Hour Energy, coffee, and Adderall the night before finals. This is perhaps the last thing I want from a Christmas carol. Boo, "Jingle Bells," boo.
Additional note: just thinking about this song in order to write about it has set my heart hammering as if I just sprinted through airport security or publicly confessed my love to my Portuguese housemaid. Let that be an indication of the effect this song has.
Final verdict: This is a tough call. If I had written this entry yesterday, it would have been "Marshmallow World," no contest (because it comes on about forty times a day at the MB and I just cannot take it anymore). But this morning "Jingle Bells" came on at work, and it felt like the walls were closing in on me as disembodied Barbra Streisand heads floated around my face, mocking me, squawking out, "JINGle bells, JINGle bells!" If the automatic weekly specials announcement hadn't blocked out the finale of the song I think I would have wedged myself into the cubbyspace underneath my register, forcing my coworkers to gently lure me out with food or something. "Here, girl, look at this nummy treat! The song's all over, come on, come on out! That's it! Good girl! Who's a good girl?!"
Jingle Bells wins, in case you weren't getting that.
In a side note, the video of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra singing "Marshmallow World" almost makes that song bearable, mainly because you can tell they secretly hate it as much as I do.
Tomorrow: "Christmas Shoes" and "Hey Santa" face off. Guess which one of these songs will be claiming the moral high ground!
[...]
And that brings us to today's selections, Marshmallow World and Jingle Bells (the Streisand version--that caveat is important). Let's jump right in!
Marshmallow World
In a word: Tra-la-la. (It's hyphenated, it counts as one word.)
Select lyrics:
It's a marshmallow world in the winter,Defining characteristics: An abundance of questionable food metaphors.
When the snow comes to cover the ground,
It's the time for play, it's a whipped cream day,
I wait for it all year round.
Oh God, this song. This song is so sugary sweet that it makes Candyland look like Oat Bran Fun Time. Here are the all the food metaphors contained in this song:
marshmallow world
whipped cream day
marshmallow clouds
the sun is red like a pumpkin head
Sorry, just have to interject with this:
Moving on:
It's a yum-yummy world made for sweethearts
It's a sugar dateOkay, okay, we get it. You've made your point.
Except hold up, because not one of these metaphors is actually apt. We've already settled the "pumpkin head" issue, but "marshmallow world"? "Whipped cream day"? First of all, marshmallows and whipped cream are nothing alike, so at least one of those is wrong (since they are purportedly describing the same thing). Second of all, neither of those is anything like snow, so they're actually both wrong. This entire song is a house of cards built on a foundation of sand or, as circumstances would have it, a house of sugar built on a foundation of more sugar.
Which brings me to what is perhaps the most salient point here: if you're going to compare snow to sugary things, why not just go with straight-up SUGAR? Anyone who's ever made a gingerbread house knows that powdered sugar and a gently picturesque winter snowfall are basically the same thing. A "marshmallow world" just sounds terrifying. Where do you step? Marshmallows are so springy; it'd be like walking on tiny, sticky trampolines!
I can buy marshmallow clouds, maybe. The phrase "yum-yummy world" makes me want to upchuckle but I will allow it because things do look sugar-coated after its snows. I'm still trying to figure out if "sugar date" refers to a literal date (as in the fruit) that has been coated in sugar or is yet another metaphor for having a swell time out on the town with your best gal.
I imagine this song was the product of a middle-school creative writing assignment ("Briefly describe a scene using metaphors") assigned to hungry students the period just before lunchtime. That seems like it would explain things.
Jingle Bells (Streisand version)
In a word: Nerve-wracking. (Hyphens!)
Select lyrics: You already know the lyrics. The lyrics are not the problem here.
Defining characteristics: Speed speed speed speed speed speed speed speed.
Evaluation: This song sends my blood pressure through the roof. I don't mean that hyperbolically, like I do when I say things like, "'Marshmallow World' might give me diabetes." I mean it in a very literal sense. I can feel my stress level ticking upward from the very first note. It's really saying something that I can happily rock out to a Christmas song that scolds me for how I've wronged and neglected the people of Ethiopia but I can't handle ten seconds of a song about a devil-may-care afternoon of sleighing.
This song is "Jingle Bells" if "Jingle Bells" were a stressed-out college freshman strung out on Five-Hour Energy, coffee, and Adderall the night before finals. This is perhaps the last thing I want from a Christmas carol. Boo, "Jingle Bells," boo.
Additional note: just thinking about this song in order to write about it has set my heart hammering as if I just sprinted through airport security or publicly confessed my love to my Portuguese housemaid. Let that be an indication of the effect this song has.
§
Final verdict: This is a tough call. If I had written this entry yesterday, it would have been "Marshmallow World," no contest (because it comes on about forty times a day at the MB and I just cannot take it anymore). But this morning "Jingle Bells" came on at work, and it felt like the walls were closing in on me as disembodied Barbra Streisand heads floated around my face, mocking me, squawking out, "JINGle bells, JINGle bells!" If the automatic weekly specials announcement hadn't blocked out the finale of the song I think I would have wedged myself into the cubbyspace underneath my register, forcing my coworkers to gently lure me out with food or something. "Here, girl, look at this nummy treat! The song's all over, come on, come on out! That's it! Good girl! Who's a good girl?!"
Jingle Bells wins, in case you weren't getting that.
In a side note, the video of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra singing "Marshmallow World" almost makes that song bearable, mainly because you can tell they secretly hate it as much as I do.
Tomorrow: "Christmas Shoes" and "Hey Santa" face off. Guess which one of these songs will be claiming the moral high ground!
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Racket Bracket, Day Three: Cavity-Inducing Musical Selections
Honestly, I'm feeling sort of lazy and not in the blogging spirit today, but I've got a tight schedule to keep. Luckily, today's selections are totally *~*~*inspirational*~*~*.
Take it away, "Believe" and "Grown-Up Christmas List"!
Believe
In a word: Believe. (Um...)
Select lyrics:
Evaluation: This is tough. I feel like I'm picking on that kid on the playground who's a real oddball but who would never hurt a fly. Christmas has made a bully out of me. This is sad. Luckily, here comes Josh Groban to help bolster my faith in myself with his smooth tenor sound and sweeping declarations of goodwill!
Seriously, though, my main issue with this song is that the lyrics sound like they could be on one of those inspirational posters with the black border and the stock photo in the middle. Here, I took the liberty of making one.
According to this song, Christmas is the cure-all for general malaise as an adult. If you're feeling generally downtrodden and you're not sure why, the answer to your troubles is that it's probably not Christmas. Just saved you a hefty psychiatry bill. You're welcome.
Also, I have an inexplicable aversion to Josh Groban. I know the man is immensely talented and is probably a much better human being than I will ever be, but something about him just irks me. So maybe this one's on me, guys. Sorry.
Grown-Up Christmas List
In a word: Schmaltzy.
Select lyrics:
Evaluation: Like "The Man With the Bag," this song seems a wee bit confused about the whole Santa vs. God thing. Just to clear things up: Santa's in charge of gifts. His jurisdiction ends there. If it cannot be gift-wrapped, hauled into a sleigh, and lobbed down a chimney, Santa just ain't dealing with it. Explain to me how this man is supposed to gift wrap an end to all wars--or, more accurately, a never-beginning to all wars. That is a serious metaphysical conundrum. Unless the TARDIS shows up in your living room on Christmas morning with a big fat bow on top, I don't see how he's supposed to make this work for you.
Also, this line happens:
Final verdict: Sort of an abbreviated contest today on account of my laziness and the fact that I really want to spend the rest of my evening eating cookies and watching Sleepy Hollow (don't judge, it's far better than it has any business being, given its whackadoodle premise), but rest assured that I have plenty more to say about My Grown-Up Christmas List, which is moving on to the next round on the strength of its self-satisfied faux humanitarianism. "Believe" gets a pass. Play me out, JoGro.
Tomorrow: "Marshmallow World" takes on Streisand's version of "Jingle Bells" in what should prove to be a very, very tough contest, as both are skull-splittingly annoying.
Take it away, "Believe" and "Grown-Up Christmas List"!
Believe
In a word: Believe. (Um...)
Select lyrics:
Believe in what your heart is sayingDefining characteristics: Admittedly awesome, chills-inducing intro (although they could cool it on the sleigh bells just a smidge), unbridled optimism, the Grobanator.
Hear the melody that's playing
There's no time to waste
There's so much to celebrate
Believe in what you feel inside
And give your dreams the wings to fly
You have everything you need
If you just believe
Evaluation: This is tough. I feel like I'm picking on that kid on the playground who's a real oddball but who would never hurt a fly. Christmas has made a bully out of me. This is sad. Luckily, here comes Josh Groban to help bolster my faith in myself with his smooth tenor sound and sweeping declarations of goodwill!
Seriously, though, my main issue with this song is that the lyrics sound like they could be on one of those inspirational posters with the black border and the stock photo in the middle. Here, I took the liberty of making one.
MichaelMaggs via Wikimedia Commons
According to this song, Christmas is the cure-all for general malaise as an adult. If you're feeling generally downtrodden and you're not sure why, the answer to your troubles is that it's probably not Christmas. Just saved you a hefty psychiatry bill. You're welcome.
Also, I have an inexplicable aversion to Josh Groban. I know the man is immensely talented and is probably a much better human being than I will ever be, but something about him just irks me. So maybe this one's on me, guys. Sorry.
Grown-Up Christmas List
In a word: Schmaltzy.
Select lyrics:
No more lives torn apart,Defining characteristics: Naïve, saccharine worldview, an intro so tinkly and echoey you just know some hardcore cheesiness is about to occur.
That wars would never start,
And time would heal all hearts.
And everyone would have a friend,
And right would always win,
And love would never end.
This is my grown-up Christmas list.
Evaluation: Like "The Man With the Bag," this song seems a wee bit confused about the whole Santa vs. God thing. Just to clear things up: Santa's in charge of gifts. His jurisdiction ends there. If it cannot be gift-wrapped, hauled into a sleigh, and lobbed down a chimney, Santa just ain't dealing with it. Explain to me how this man is supposed to gift wrap an end to all wars--or, more accurately, a never-beginning to all wars. That is a serious metaphysical conundrum. Unless the TARDIS shows up in your living room on Christmas morning with a big fat bow on top, I don't see how he's supposed to make this work for you.
Also, this line happens:
What is this illusion called the innocence of youth?Well, I don't know, Jacques Derrida, you tell me. You seem to have the answers for everything else. The next line goes on to postulate that "[m]aybe only in our blind belief can we ever find the truth," which seems to imply that the innocence of youth is actually a thing and therefore not an illusion, as previously claimed. Is the illusion of the innocence of youth an illusion in and of itself? What is "youth"?! Is this entire song an illusion?!?! I DON'T WANT TO THINK THIS HARD ABOUT MY CHRISTMAS MUSIC!
§
Final verdict: Sort of an abbreviated contest today on account of my laziness and the fact that I really want to spend the rest of my evening eating cookies and watching Sleepy Hollow (don't judge, it's far better than it has any business being, given its whackadoodle premise), but rest assured that I have plenty more to say about My Grown-Up Christmas List, which is moving on to the next round on the strength of its self-satisfied faux humanitarianism. "Believe" gets a pass. Play me out, JoGro.
Tomorrow: "Marshmallow World" takes on Streisand's version of "Jingle Bells" in what should prove to be a very, very tough contest, as both are skull-splittingly annoying.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Racket Bracket, Day Two: Santa Gets Around
Day two! Are you still singing "The Man With the Bag" from yesterday? I know I am!
Today's contenders are slightly less likely to get stuck in your head but are no less irritating. Let's hear it for "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" and "Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy."
Two notes before we get started:
1. In terms of thematic content, these are basically the same song, right? Can we all agree on that right now?
2. I hate to spoil this for you if you're still living in a bubble of childlike innocence, but Santa is the dad. The dad is Santa. Just thought I'd rip that Band-Aid off real quickly right at the beginning, because apparently some people (adults!) have not made that connection yet. BUT this is a point that we will definitely be returning to. Take note.
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
In a word: INFIDELITY!
Select lyrics (okay, all the lyrics):
Evaluation: So, let me get this straight, child. Your mom sent you to bed, but you snuck downstairs, where you witnessed your mother kissing a man who is not your father. Not only that, but she is kissing the mythical childhood hero of children the world over. And your only reaction is that it would be "a laugh" if your dad had witnessed it as well? I call bullshit on two fronts:
1. This child is not the least bit worried about the state of her parents' marriage? When my sister and I were little, we convinced ourselves that our mother was going to run away with the guy who snowplowed our driveway (?!). Any time she had to talk to the plow guy, we'd sit inside in fearful trepidation of their pending elopement. We did not think it would be "a laugh" when our dad found out. And this was for a hypothetical divorce-catalyst. Pretty sure if we ever witnessed mom and the plow guy exchanging so much as a polite handshake we would have huddled, crying, in a closet somewhere. And this kid is like, "Jolly good, jolly good, what a scream! Mom and Santa! Har-har!"
2. Let's say the dad in this song is, in fact, kind of a jerk. Let's say this child would be happy to find any reason to kick dear old pops to the curb. If that is the case, why isn't this kid more excited? SANTA IS YOUR NEW DAD! Do you know what this means? DO YOU?! Toys all year! Elves to do your bidding! Magical flying sleigh! This kid is crafty ("She didn't see me creep/Down the stairs to have a peep"). Veeeeery sneaky. Let's be real, this child is possibly one of the most opportunistic children on the planet. (Why are you sneaking downstairs to spy on your mom, anyway? BLACKMAIL?) There's no way she hasn't worked out that Santa Dad means TONS of "buying your love" presents, especially when Santa Dad needs to atone for breaking up her parents' marriage. Given all this, this child is surprisingly blasé about this whole situation.
But that's all from a child's perspective. From an adult's perspective, this is a song about Dad dressing up like Santa and Mom subsequently throwing herself at him. Look. I really don't want to know what weird stuff parents are getting up to, especially at Christmas. Let's not write songs about this. Ever.
Also, most versions of this song fail the cardinal rule of Christmas carols (no adults singing songs meant to be sung by children). Fail, fail, fail.
Speaking of failing...
Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy
In a word: INFIDELITY! (Again! Did I mention that this is basically the same song?)
Select lyrics:
Evaluation: Just look at the lyrics. This song is the same song as "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus," but as if the person singing it forgot how the song went and only remembered the general premise and certain key words.
"Merry Christmas, sweetheart. What song would you like me to sing you to sleep with tonight?"
"The one about Mommy kissing Santa!"
"Oh, um...Daddy doesn't know that one very well, darlin'. What other song would you like?"
"I DON'T WANT ANOTHER SONG! SING THAT ONE!"
"Oh, um, okay then...well, it goes like, um...Santa...looked a lot like Daddy..."
BAM. I just scripted a veritable docudrama about how this song came to be. TV stations can air this every holiday season from now until the end of time. If you need me, I will be over here cashing royalty checks every December for the rest of my life.
At least the kid in this version seems to grasp the power he now commands over his hapless parent(s), resolving to "tell on" his mom and the white-bearded, red-suited Lothario that is currently lurking around the family home. Now you're using your head, kid! Ask for--nay, demand--a pony and a puppy and whatever the 1965 equivalent of an iPhone is (a Red Ryder BB gun?). What are they gonna do about it? YOU HOLD THE POWER! Ahem. Anyway.
Aside from the kinda-sorta-plagiarism, "Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy" suffers from another problem, which is that it has no idea which questions to answer and which questions to leave up to interpretation. "Is it Santa or Daddy?" Answered: Daddy. Even the kid who believes in Santa is 99% sure that it's his dad running around in what I imagine is a fairly uncomfortable holiday getup. But then it leaves us hanging with lines like "They never thought...I'd hear what was said." WHAT WAS SAID? I am dying to know what a conversation between this kid's mom and Maybe-Dad-Maybe-Santa would sound like.
On second thought...maybe not.
Final verdict: Tough call, since they're basically the same exact song, but "Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy" has the unfortunate distinction of also being a country song, so it moves on to the next round.
Tomorrow: Get ready to have your heartstrings savagely tugged by the saccharine stylings of "Believe" and "My Grown-Up Christmas List"!
Today's contenders are slightly less likely to get stuck in your head but are no less irritating. Let's hear it for "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" and "Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy."
Two notes before we get started:
1. In terms of thematic content, these are basically the same song, right? Can we all agree on that right now?
2. I hate to spoil this for you if you're still living in a bubble of childlike innocence, but Santa is the dad. The dad is Santa. Just thought I'd rip that Band-Aid off real quickly right at the beginning, because apparently some people (adults!) have not made that connection yet. BUT this is a point that we will definitely be returning to. Take note.
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
In a word: INFIDELITY!
Select lyrics (okay, all the lyrics):
I saw mommy kissing Santa ClausDefining characteristics: A complete disregard for the sanctity of marriage, absolutely zero pre-divorce angst, a wholehearted embrace of peeping tommery
Underneath the mistletoe last night.
She didn't see me creep
Down the stairs to have a peep;
She thought that I was tucked up
In my bedroom fast asleep.
Then I saw mommy tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white;
Oh, what a laugh it would have been
If Daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.
Evaluation: So, let me get this straight, child. Your mom sent you to bed, but you snuck downstairs, where you witnessed your mother kissing a man who is not your father. Not only that, but she is kissing the mythical childhood hero of children the world over. And your only reaction is that it would be "a laugh" if your dad had witnessed it as well? I call bullshit on two fronts:
1. This child is not the least bit worried about the state of her parents' marriage? When my sister and I were little, we convinced ourselves that our mother was going to run away with the guy who snowplowed our driveway (?!). Any time she had to talk to the plow guy, we'd sit inside in fearful trepidation of their pending elopement. We did not think it would be "a laugh" when our dad found out. And this was for a hypothetical divorce-catalyst. Pretty sure if we ever witnessed mom and the plow guy exchanging so much as a polite handshake we would have huddled, crying, in a closet somewhere. And this kid is like, "Jolly good, jolly good, what a scream! Mom and Santa! Har-har!"
2. Let's say the dad in this song is, in fact, kind of a jerk. Let's say this child would be happy to find any reason to kick dear old pops to the curb. If that is the case, why isn't this kid more excited? SANTA IS YOUR NEW DAD! Do you know what this means? DO YOU?! Toys all year! Elves to do your bidding! Magical flying sleigh! This kid is crafty ("She didn't see me creep/Down the stairs to have a peep"). Veeeeery sneaky. Let's be real, this child is possibly one of the most opportunistic children on the planet. (Why are you sneaking downstairs to spy on your mom, anyway? BLACKMAIL?) There's no way she hasn't worked out that Santa Dad means TONS of "buying your love" presents, especially when Santa Dad needs to atone for breaking up her parents' marriage. Given all this, this child is surprisingly blasé about this whole situation.
But that's all from a child's perspective. From an adult's perspective, this is a song about Dad dressing up like Santa and Mom subsequently throwing herself at him. Look. I really don't want to know what weird stuff parents are getting up to, especially at Christmas. Let's not write songs about this. Ever.
Also, most versions of this song fail the cardinal rule of Christmas carols (no adults singing songs meant to be sung by children). Fail, fail, fail.
Speaking of failing...
Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy
In a word: INFIDELITY! (Again! Did I mention that this is basically the same song?)
Select lyrics:
Well they thought that I was fast a sleepin'Defining characteristics: Pretty much everything that defined "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" defines this song. Oh, and country twang.
They thought that I was tucked in bed
They never thought that I'd come a peepin'
Or that I'd hear what was said
Santa put his arm around Momma
And Momma put her arm around him
So if Santa Claus ain't Daddy
Then I'm gonna tell on them
Evaluation: Just look at the lyrics. This song is the same song as "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus," but as if the person singing it forgot how the song went and only remembered the general premise and certain key words.
"Merry Christmas, sweetheart. What song would you like me to sing you to sleep with tonight?"
"The one about Mommy kissing Santa!"
"Oh, um...Daddy doesn't know that one very well, darlin'. What other song would you like?"
"I DON'T WANT ANOTHER SONG! SING THAT ONE!"
"Oh, um, okay then...well, it goes like, um...Santa...looked a lot like Daddy..."
BAM. I just scripted a veritable docudrama about how this song came to be. TV stations can air this every holiday season from now until the end of time. If you need me, I will be over here cashing royalty checks every December for the rest of my life.
At least the kid in this version seems to grasp the power he now commands over his hapless parent(s), resolving to "tell on" his mom and the white-bearded, red-suited Lothario that is currently lurking around the family home. Now you're using your head, kid! Ask for--nay, demand--a pony and a puppy and whatever the 1965 equivalent of an iPhone is (a Red Ryder BB gun?). What are they gonna do about it? YOU HOLD THE POWER! Ahem. Anyway.
Aside from the kinda-sorta-plagiarism, "Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy" suffers from another problem, which is that it has no idea which questions to answer and which questions to leave up to interpretation. "Is it Santa or Daddy?" Answered: Daddy. Even the kid who believes in Santa is 99% sure that it's his dad running around in what I imagine is a fairly uncomfortable holiday getup. But then it leaves us hanging with lines like "They never thought...I'd hear what was said." WHAT WAS SAID? I am dying to know what a conversation between this kid's mom and Maybe-Dad-Maybe-Santa would sound like.
On second thought...maybe not.
§
Final verdict: Tough call, since they're basically the same exact song, but "Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy" has the unfortunate distinction of also being a country song, so it moves on to the next round.
Tomorrow: Get ready to have your heartstrings savagely tugged by the saccharine stylings of "Believe" and "My Grown-Up Christmas List"!
Sunday, December 8, 2013
Racket Bracket, Day One: Bags Full O' Teeth
It's officially started! Here to kick off the search for the most annoying Christmas song of all time, it's All I Want For Christmas is My Two Front Teeth, along with the challenger: The Man With the Bag. Brace yourselves. We're doing this.
All I Want For Christmas is My Two Front Teeth
In a word: Lisp-mas.
Select lyrics:
Evaluation: You basically have it from the chorus alone. Our song is about a sad child that witheth hith or her front teeth weren't missinth becauthe thith maketh it impothible to with anyone a Merry Chrithtmath. It is, however, still entirely possible to tell people to have a lovely holiday, a happy new year, or even a wonderful Hannukah. (Admittedly, Kwanzaa and Saturnalia are out.) So don't bring that weaksauce argument in here, kid. If you really wanted to wish people Merry Christmas, you'd find a way to do it.
But I could forgive the weak premise if the execution weren't so damn annoying. First of all, the version of the song I've linked to (the version I'm basing this evaluation on) breaks what might be my only hard-and-fast Christmas carol rule, which is this: ADULTS MAY NOT SING SONGS MEANT TO BE SUNG BY CHILDREN. If you are over the age of ten, you are not allowed to sing songs that showcase the laughably adorable naiveté of children, because you are, in fact, not a child. It's like when Miley Cyrus tries to convince everyone that she can get away with being ratchet when she is a rich white girl from Tennessee. It's embarrassing and sort of offensive to the intelligence of most sane human beings.
To be fair, this version of "Two Front Teeth" tries to at least make it sound like a child is singing. It goes about achieving this by making a fully-grown adult sing in a high-pitched voice with a whistly lisp, and it really only succeeds in making it sound like the Griffins' pervy neighbor on Family Guy is participating in a Christmas-themed karaoke session. (Which, honestly, seems like something he would do.) So now I'm annoyed and creeped out. You're making a strong case for moving on to the next round, "Two Front Teeth." But this round ain't over yet...
The Man With the Bag
In a word: Jazzy?
Select lyrics:
Defining characteristics: Repetition, repetition, repetition. Once you've heard the first two parts of this song, you've heard EVERY part of this song, although the order does get shuffled around a bit as these two minutes and forty seconds stretch onward into eternity.
Evaluation: Hoo, boy. I hate this song. I can't get through a shift without hearing it at least three times, and what makes it especially annoying is the way the version our store plays really hits the sustained notes: "He'll be heeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE!" "You'll get yooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOURS!" I couldn't find this version on youtube (thank you, Baby Jesus), so you'll just have to imagine it. I'll give you a moment.
Annoying, right?!
Aside from this and the incredibly twee (and grammatically incorrect) phrase "extra-special good," I'm not sure quite what it is about this song that irks me so. I like jazzy songs. I like upbeat Christmas stuff. It's a mystery. Maybe it's the way the song refuses to actually name Santa, like he's Beetlejuice or something. If we say his name, do we summon him? Does that make him angry? Will we all get moved to the naughty list or something? That would certainly make sense with the song's lyrics, which seem vaguely threatening when you take each line as an individual entity:
And finally, why are you praying to SANTA? (Sorry--"Old Mr. Kringle." That's apparently what we call him now, if the first line of this song is to be believed.) I get that Christmas has become increasingly secular and commercial, but really, I think you've got your wires crossed. The "put the 'Christ' back in 'Christmas'" crowd will have something to say about this, let me assure you.
§
Final verdict: "Two Front Teeth" is annoying for sure, but once it's over, it's over. "The Man With the Bag" will worm its way into your temporal lobe and stay there until next February. For its staying power, "The Man With the Bag" moves on to the next round.
Tomorrow: "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" vs. "Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy." Get ready for some Christmas fun with the most dysfunctional families to ever be immortalized in song!
All I Want For Christmas is My Two Front Teeth
In a word: Lisp-mas.
Select lyrics:
All I want for ChristmasDefining characteristics: Nails-on-a-chalkboard whistling noise throughout, forced "aww shucks, isn't this cuuuuute?" vibe
Is my two front teeth
My two front teeth
Just my two front teeth
Gee, if I could only have
My two front teeth
Then I could wish you Merry Christmas
Evaluation: You basically have it from the chorus alone. Our song is about a sad child that witheth hith or her front teeth weren't missinth becauthe thith maketh it impothible to with anyone a Merry Chrithtmath. It is, however, still entirely possible to tell people to have a lovely holiday, a happy new year, or even a wonderful Hannukah. (Admittedly, Kwanzaa and Saturnalia are out.) So don't bring that weaksauce argument in here, kid. If you really wanted to wish people Merry Christmas, you'd find a way to do it.
But I could forgive the weak premise if the execution weren't so damn annoying. First of all, the version of the song I've linked to (the version I'm basing this evaluation on) breaks what might be my only hard-and-fast Christmas carol rule, which is this: ADULTS MAY NOT SING SONGS MEANT TO BE SUNG BY CHILDREN. If you are over the age of ten, you are not allowed to sing songs that showcase the laughably adorable naiveté of children, because you are, in fact, not a child. It's like when Miley Cyrus tries to convince everyone that she can get away with being ratchet when she is a rich white girl from Tennessee. It's embarrassing and sort of offensive to the intelligence of most sane human beings.
To be fair, this version of "Two Front Teeth" tries to at least make it sound like a child is singing. It goes about achieving this by making a fully-grown adult sing in a high-pitched voice with a whistly lisp, and it really only succeeds in making it sound like the Griffins' pervy neighbor on Family Guy is participating in a Christmas-themed karaoke session. (Which, honestly, seems like something he would do.) So now I'm annoyed and creeped out. You're making a strong case for moving on to the next round, "Two Front Teeth." But this round ain't over yet...
The Man With the Bag
In a word: Jazzy?
Select lyrics:
He'll be here
With the answer to the prayers that you made through the year
You'll get yours
If you've done everything you should extra special good
He'll make this December the one you'll remember
The best and the merriest you ever did have
Everybody's waitin' for the man with the bag
'Cause Christmas is coming again
Defining characteristics: Repetition, repetition, repetition. Once you've heard the first two parts of this song, you've heard EVERY part of this song, although the order does get shuffled around a bit as these two minutes and forty seconds stretch onward into eternity.
Evaluation: Hoo, boy. I hate this song. I can't get through a shift without hearing it at least three times, and what makes it especially annoying is the way the version our store plays really hits the sustained notes: "He'll be heeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE!" "You'll get yooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOURS!" I couldn't find this version on youtube (thank you, Baby Jesus), so you'll just have to imagine it. I'll give you a moment.
Annoying, right?!
Aside from this and the incredibly twee (and grammatically incorrect) phrase "extra-special good," I'm not sure quite what it is about this song that irks me so. I like jazzy songs. I like upbeat Christmas stuff. It's a mystery. Maybe it's the way the song refuses to actually name Santa, like he's Beetlejuice or something. If we say his name, do we summon him? Does that make him angry? Will we all get moved to the naughty list or something? That would certainly make sense with the song's lyrics, which seem vaguely threatening when you take each line as an individual entity:
He'll be here
You'll get yours
He'll make this December the one you'll rememberShivers.
And finally, why are you praying to SANTA? (Sorry--"Old Mr. Kringle." That's apparently what we call him now, if the first line of this song is to be believed.) I get that Christmas has become increasingly secular and commercial, but really, I think you've got your wires crossed. The "put the 'Christ' back in 'Christmas'" crowd will have something to say about this, let me assure you.
Final verdict: "Two Front Teeth" is annoying for sure, but once it's over, it's over. "The Man With the Bag" will worm its way into your temporal lobe and stay there until next February. For its staying power, "The Man With the Bag" moves on to the next round.
Tomorrow: "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" vs. "Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy." Get ready for some Christmas fun with the most dysfunctional families to ever be immortalized in song!
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Prelude to the Christmas Racket Bracket
Another holiday season is upon us, friends! Trees! Presents! Roast beast! And, last but most certainly not least, a selection of some of the worst music ever written!
Don't get me wrong, Christmas music is sort of my jam. I have not one, not two, but three separate Christmas playlists in my iTunes. However, my childlike love of Christmas music does not prevent me from observing that some of it is godawful, and what's worse is that once November rolls around, DJs the world over are suddenly unable to distinguish music people actually like from music that makes people want to launch themselves into space, where nothing awaits them but the blissful silence of certain death.
The other problem with Christmas music is that it's overplayed. When you think about it, you really can't name more than what, fifty Christmas songs in regular rotation? And those fifty songs get played all day, every day, for two whole months. What's worse is that every song has been covered by at least three artists, so you end up hearing "Sleigh Ride" eight billion times--two billion Boston Pops, two billion Carpenters, two billion Motowns, two billion of whatever other versions are out there (and believe me, there are a lot).
So this year I set out to discover which Christmas song was the most annoying one of all time. I feel particularly qualified to pass judgment in this arena given that this is my fifth year of working retail at Christmas time, but to make this whole experiment as inclusive as possible I solicited opinions from family, friends, and co-workers. And let me tell you, the results were fascinating.
So here's how this competition for worst-of-the-worst works. I made a list, with input and suggestions from others, of sixteen of the most annoying songs I could think of. (In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that I maintained complete veto power over the list, and perhaps my threshold for "annoying" is different from that of a normal human being. For instance, I find "Dominick the Donkey" to be a delightful and whimsical Christmas ditty, and not a blight on the face of holiday music the world over. So sue me.) Anyway, the sixteen songs that made the list get put up on a bracket, March Madness-style. I will eliminate one song every day from now until Christmas Eve, at which point I will name the most annoying Christmas song of all time and we can all get drunk on spiked eggnog to try and forget its very existence. Sound like a plan? Excellent!
In the meantime, here are the songs that didn't quite make the cut--the dishonorable mentions, if you will. In no particular order:
1. The Chipmunk Song. I added this to the list out of a sense of obligation, because I know that a song that is this repetitive and sung in three-part artificially high-pitched harmony is a monstrosity. However, I sort of enjoy the Chipmunk Song. A casual poll of my co-workers revealed no deep-seated hatred of this song, which frankly shocked me. So off the list it went.
2. Do They Know It's Christmas? Okay, so I actually like this song quite a bit, even though it's probably one of the biggest downers in all of Christmas carol-dom. It mostly made the list on the strength of the last two minutes, where a chorus of people famous in the mid-80s sings "FEED-THE-WOOOOOORLD, LET! THEM! KNOW! IT'S! CHRIST! MAS! TIME!" over and over and over again. Yes, this four-minute and thirty-eight-second song spends a full two minutes repeating nine measly words. Maybe this is a meta commentary on the ad nauseum repetition of Christmas music in general? Or maybe they really, really want you to get the message that you should feed the world and let them know it's Christmas? I guess. Anyway, people in Africa are dying in a myriad of horrible ways. Enjoy your turkey, selfish Americans!
3. Do You Hear What I Hear? Oh boy, these titles just kill me. Let's just stop naming songs with rhetorical questions. Anyway, this was my absolute favorite Christmas carol as a kid, so I felt like a traitor for putting it on the list. But here's how it goes down these days: whenever one of the hundred and fifty versions (not exaggerating) of "Do You Hear What I Hear?" comes on the radio, I get all excited and sing along until about the second verse, when I realize that the plot of this song is moving along slower than that of The Old Man and the Sea. And then I get bored and the repetition starts to annoy me. But I was relieved when more annoying stuff bumped it off the list.
4. I'm Gettin' Nuttin' for Christmas. Good. You don't deserve anything for Christmas, you little bastard. I don't even feel a little bit sorry for you. You want sympathy? Come back when the only water you have available is the bitter sting of your own tears. Your move.
5. All Alone on Christmas. The only thing that makes this different from the million other "I'm all alone" pop songs is the inclusion of Christmas. Cry me a river, Darlene Love, and as long as you don't have to drink your tears afterward in a desperate attempt to stave off dehydration, you're doing better than the kids in Africa. (FEED-THE-WOOOOOOOORLD!)
So, with these songs out of the way, here's our bracket for Most Annoying Christmas Song! (Click to enlarge, and try not to be too jealous of my incredible skills in MS Paint.)
Get pumped, everyone. It's going to be a jolly couple of weeks.
Don't get me wrong, Christmas music is sort of my jam. I have not one, not two, but three separate Christmas playlists in my iTunes. However, my childlike love of Christmas music does not prevent me from observing that some of it is godawful, and what's worse is that once November rolls around, DJs the world over are suddenly unable to distinguish music people actually like from music that makes people want to launch themselves into space, where nothing awaits them but the blissful silence of certain death.
The other problem with Christmas music is that it's overplayed. When you think about it, you really can't name more than what, fifty Christmas songs in regular rotation? And those fifty songs get played all day, every day, for two whole months. What's worse is that every song has been covered by at least three artists, so you end up hearing "Sleigh Ride" eight billion times--two billion Boston Pops, two billion Carpenters, two billion Motowns, two billion of whatever other versions are out there (and believe me, there are a lot).
So this year I set out to discover which Christmas song was the most annoying one of all time. I feel particularly qualified to pass judgment in this arena given that this is my fifth year of working retail at Christmas time, but to make this whole experiment as inclusive as possible I solicited opinions from family, friends, and co-workers. And let me tell you, the results were fascinating.
So here's how this competition for worst-of-the-worst works. I made a list, with input and suggestions from others, of sixteen of the most annoying songs I could think of. (In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that I maintained complete veto power over the list, and perhaps my threshold for "annoying" is different from that of a normal human being. For instance, I find "Dominick the Donkey" to be a delightful and whimsical Christmas ditty, and not a blight on the face of holiday music the world over. So sue me.) Anyway, the sixteen songs that made the list get put up on a bracket, March Madness-style. I will eliminate one song every day from now until Christmas Eve, at which point I will name the most annoying Christmas song of all time and we can all get drunk on spiked eggnog to try and forget its very existence. Sound like a plan? Excellent!
In the meantime, here are the songs that didn't quite make the cut--the dishonorable mentions, if you will. In no particular order:
1. The Chipmunk Song. I added this to the list out of a sense of obligation, because I know that a song that is this repetitive and sung in three-part artificially high-pitched harmony is a monstrosity. However, I sort of enjoy the Chipmunk Song. A casual poll of my co-workers revealed no deep-seated hatred of this song, which frankly shocked me. So off the list it went.
2. Do They Know It's Christmas? Okay, so I actually like this song quite a bit, even though it's probably one of the biggest downers in all of Christmas carol-dom. It mostly made the list on the strength of the last two minutes, where a chorus of people famous in the mid-80s sings "FEED-THE-WOOOOOORLD, LET! THEM! KNOW! IT'S! CHRIST! MAS! TIME!" over and over and over again. Yes, this four-minute and thirty-eight-second song spends a full two minutes repeating nine measly words. Maybe this is a meta commentary on the ad nauseum repetition of Christmas music in general? Or maybe they really, really want you to get the message that you should feed the world and let them know it's Christmas? I guess. Anyway, people in Africa are dying in a myriad of horrible ways. Enjoy your turkey, selfish Americans!
3. Do You Hear What I Hear? Oh boy, these titles just kill me. Let's just stop naming songs with rhetorical questions. Anyway, this was my absolute favorite Christmas carol as a kid, so I felt like a traitor for putting it on the list. But here's how it goes down these days: whenever one of the hundred and fifty versions (not exaggerating) of "Do You Hear What I Hear?" comes on the radio, I get all excited and sing along until about the second verse, when I realize that the plot of this song is moving along slower than that of The Old Man and the Sea. And then I get bored and the repetition starts to annoy me. But I was relieved when more annoying stuff bumped it off the list.
4. I'm Gettin' Nuttin' for Christmas. Good. You don't deserve anything for Christmas, you little bastard. I don't even feel a little bit sorry for you. You want sympathy? Come back when the only water you have available is the bitter sting of your own tears. Your move.
5. All Alone on Christmas. The only thing that makes this different from the million other "I'm all alone" pop songs is the inclusion of Christmas. Cry me a river, Darlene Love, and as long as you don't have to drink your tears afterward in a desperate attempt to stave off dehydration, you're doing better than the kids in Africa. (FEED-THE-WOOOOOOOORLD!)
So, with these songs out of the way, here's our bracket for Most Annoying Christmas Song! (Click to enlarge, and try not to be too jealous of my incredible skills in MS Paint.)
Get pumped, everyone. It's going to be a jolly couple of weeks.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
Blurred Lines, Conflicted Feelings
On the one hand, I like having something catchy to groove to while I'm driving around town or trying to answer a question at pub trivia. On the other hand, I am 100% skeeved out by misogyny and am not the world's biggest fan of rape culture.
Oh, hello there, Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines"!Good to see you go to hell WHY ARE YOU CONFUSING ME IN THIS WAY?!
To attempt to explain the massive amount of cognitive dissonance involved every time I nerdily groove along to this charming little ditty, I thought I would employ the internet's biggest contribution to pithy communication: gifs. Specifically Doctor Who gifs, because OH MY GOD YOU GUYS, DID YOU HEAR THAT PETER CAPALDI IS THE TWELFTH DOCTOR?!
So, without further ado, I present to you the sublime poetry ofShakespeare Alfred, Lord Tenneyson the real-life son of Dr. Jason Seaver from Growing Pains.
Everybody get up!
So far, so groovy!
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey
Source: televisionwithoutpity.tumblr.com
Hey, hey, hey
Still groovy!
If you can't hear what I'm trying to say
If you can't read from the same page
Maybe I'm going deaf,
Maybe I'm going blind
Maybe I'm out of my mind
Source: crayonshower.tumblr.com
Well, it ain't Shakespeare, but I can still jam to this while I'm stopped at a red light!
OK now he was close, tried to domesticate you
But you're an animal, baby, it's in your nature
Just let me liberate you
I hate these blurred lines
I know you want it (x 3, ughhh)
But you're a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me
Source: doctorwhogifs.tumblr.com
Source: doctorwhogifs.tumblr.com
It couldn't possibly be 2013, could it? It's like feminism never happened!
I feel so lucky
You wanna hug me
Source: wilfulwilf.tumblr.com
Oh, I want to hug you? Do I really, though?
What rhymes with hug me?
Source: coulombs-flaw.tumblr.com
Source: romolas.tumblr.com
Someone buy Robin Thicke a rhyming dictionary and he could be the Bard of our generation!
One thing I ask of you
Let me be the one you back that ass to
Source: dwgifs.tumblr.com
As long as we're asking things of each other, let me ask you this: Does that line work on anyone? Do you think women are flattered when you "ask" them shit like that?
Go, from Malibu, to Paris, boo
Yeah, I had a bitch, but she ain't bad as you
So hit me up when you passing through
I'll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two
Source: reddit.com
I think there is a flaw in your technique, good sir. Oh, and also:
Sourcedoctorwhogifs.tumblr.com
BLIND RAGE.
Swag on, even when you dress casual
I mean it's almost unbearable
Then, honey you're not there when I'm
With my foresight bitch you pay me by
Source: ibegto-dreamanddiffer.tumblr.com
I literally don't even understand what you're even trying to say any more.
Nothing like your last guy, he too square for you
He don't smack that ass and pull your hair like that
Source: doctorwhogifs.tumblr.com
OH, YES! You're totally right, ass-smacking and hair-pulling is definitely what was missing from my last relationship. I can't believe I didn't see it before!
So I just watch and wait for you to salute
But you didn't pick
Not many women can refuse this pimpin'
I'm a nice guy, but don't get it if you get with me
Source: mattsmithissexy.tumblr.com
Yeeeeeah. All righty then.
Shake the vibe, get down, get up
Do it like it hurt, like it hurt
Source: wilfulwilf.tumblr.com
ICY DEATH GLARE.
Baby can you breathe? I got this from Jamaica
It always works for me, Dakota to Decatur, uh huh
No more pretending
Hey, hey, hey
Cause now you winning
Hey, hey, hey
Here's our beginning
Source: 13wilde.tumblr.com
Couldn't have said it better myself.
I always wanted a good girl
I know you want it
Source: doctorwhogifs.tumblr.com
Oh you do, do you?
I know you want it
Source: gif-database.tumblr.com
I know you want it
You're a good girl
Can't let it get past me
You're far from plastic
Talk about getting blasted
I hate these blurred lines
Source: doctorwhogifs.tumblr.com
Are you STILL talking? Really?!
I know you want it
Source: holygifsbatman.tumblr.com
I know you want it
Source: veryusefulgifs.tumblr.com
I know you want it
Source: reactiongifs.com
But you're a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me
Source: whatshouldberkcallme.tumblr.com
Oh, hello there, Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines"!
To attempt to explain the massive amount of cognitive dissonance involved every time I nerdily groove along to this charming little ditty, I thought I would employ the internet's biggest contribution to pithy communication: gifs. Specifically Doctor Who gifs, because OH MY GOD YOU GUYS, DID YOU HEAR THAT PETER CAPALDI IS THE TWELFTH DOCTOR?!
So, without further ado, I present to you the sublime poetry of
Everybody get up!
Source: televisionwithoutpity.tumblr.com
So far, so groovy!
Hey, hey, hey
Source: televisionwithoutpity.tumblr.com
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey, hey
Source: televisionwithoutpity.tumblr.com
Still groovy!
If you can't hear what I'm trying to say
If you can't read from the same page
Maybe I'm going deaf,
Maybe I'm going blind
Maybe I'm out of my mind
Well, it ain't Shakespeare, but I can still jam to this while I'm stopped at a red light!
OK now he was close, tried to domesticate you
But you're an animal, baby, it's in your nature
Source: district9andthreequarters.tumblr.com
Oh, really, now we're going to compare women to animals kept in captivity? Charming.
Just let me liberate you
Source: doctorwhogifs.tumblr.com
CHYEAH, OKAY. YOU DO THAT.
You don't need no papers
That man is not your maker
That man is not your maker
Source: mattsmithissexy.tumblr.com
You ain't telling me anything I didn't already know/wasn't granted by the U.S. Constitution, Robby.
And that's why I'm gon' take a good girl
I know you want it
I know you want it
Source: mattsmithissexy.tumblr.com
Aaaaaand...no.
I know you want it.
Source: mattsmithissexy.tumblr.com
Still no.
I know you want it.
Source: mattsmithissexy.tumblr.com
No no no no no no no no creepy as hell NO.
You're a good girl
Can't let it get past me
You're far from plastic
Can't let it get past me
You're far from plastic
Talk about getting blasted
Source: doctorwhogifs.tumblr.com
"Far from plastic"? What high praise! It's almost like I'm a real human being or something!
(Also, this episode of Doctor Who is all this line ever makes me think of. I'm a nerd. It's okay.)
I hate these blurred lines
I know you want it (x 3, ughhh)
But you're a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me
Pro tip: If you have to tell a woman six times in a row that you "know she wants it," she probably doesn't "want it."
What do they make dreams for
When you got them jeans on
What do we need steam for
You the hottest bitch in this place
When you got them jeans on
What do we need steam for
You the hottest bitch in this place
It couldn't possibly be 2013, could it? It's like feminism never happened!
I feel so lucky
You wanna hug me
Oh, I want to hug you? Do I really, though?
What rhymes with hug me?
Someone buy Robin Thicke a rhyming dictionary and he could be the Bard of our generation!
One thing I ask of you
Let me be the one you back that ass to
As long as we're asking things of each other, let me ask you this: Does that line work on anyone? Do you think women are flattered when you "ask" them shit like that?
Go, from Malibu, to Paris, boo
Yeah, I had a bitch, but she ain't bad as you
So hit me up when you passing through
I'll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two
I think there is a flaw in your technique, good sir. Oh, and also:
BLIND RAGE.
Swag on, even when you dress casual
I mean it's almost unbearable
Then, honey you're not there when I'm
With my foresight bitch you pay me by
I literally don't even understand what you're even trying to say any more.
Nothing like your last guy, he too square for you
He don't smack that ass and pull your hair like that
OH, YES! You're totally right, ass-smacking and hair-pulling is definitely what was missing from my last relationship. I can't believe I didn't see it before!
So I just watch and wait for you to salute
But you didn't pick
Not many women can refuse this pimpin'
I'm a nice guy, but don't get it if you get with me
Yeeeeeah. All righty then.
Shake the vibe, get down, get up
Do it like it hurt, like it hurt
Source: doctorwhogifs.tumblr.com
HOW ABOUT YOU BACK OFF WHILE I MAKE MY ANGRY FACE, KAY, THANKS.
What you don't like work?
ICY DEATH GLARE.
Baby can you breathe? I got this from Jamaica
It always works for me, Dakota to Decatur, uh huh
Source: feckingbatman.tumblr.com
Requires no further commentary.
Hey, hey, hey
Cause now you winning
Hey, hey, hey
Here's our beginning
Couldn't have said it better myself.
I always wanted a good girl
I know you want it
Oh you do, do you?
I know you want it
I know you want it
Source: fallofthesmith.tumblr.com
Can't let it get past me
You're far from plastic
Talk about getting blasted
I hate these blurred lines
Are you STILL talking? Really?!
I know you want it
Source: holygifsbatman.tumblr.com
I know you want it
I know you want it
But you're a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me
Source: syfyforever.tumblr.com
Source: televisionwithoutpity.tumblr.com
Yep. That about sums it up.
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