Whenever I hear “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” (or, to be honest, any holiday song) on the radio, it makes my eyeballs ache. Who came up with this lie? Christmas (or Hanukkah, or whatever holiday you celebrate in which money must be spent) is most definitely not the most wonderful time of the year. There’s snow on the ground, the roads are icy, the pipes often freeze, the toilet seat is so cold in the morning I’m afraid my skin will stick, and winter clothes are bulky and unflattering, not cute and chic. How Andy Williams could possibly think December compares favorably to, say, July, with the delightful heat and the sandy beaches and the ice cream, is unfathomable. I can only speculate that he is an idiot.
I also don’t appreciate that line “Be of good cheer.” I do not like being told what to do. Don’t tell me how to feel, Andy, you psychotic control freak. In fact, because you ordered me to be of good cheer, I’m going to do the exact opposite, just to spite you. How do you like them snowflakes, Andy?
Andy also “promises” that there will be “parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting . . .” and his tone implies that these are good things. So you’re telling me I have to host a party? This means that on top of shopping, wrapping, writing out cards, and putting up the tree, I also have to clean my house, probably repaint the walls in the living room (they really do need it), and prepare food for what? Thirty? And they’ll probably expect alcohol. Who’s going to pay for that? And who’s going to find and buy the toilet-seat warmer, Andy? Are you? Plus, I’m an introvert. Hosting a party and socializing pretty much describes my worst nightmare. Thanks a bunch, you sadistic jerk.
And you’re saying marshmallows have to be on the menu. Where would you like people to toast them, Andy? Are you going to install a fireplace in my home before the party? Stop telling me what to do!
At least the kids will be entertained with the jingle belling. (What does that even mean? Do you hear yourself? The cold has numbed your brain to the point where you’re not even making sense, Andy!)
The only good part of the song is where Andy croons, “There’ll be scary ghost stories.” I can get on board with that. He’s probably talking about A Christmas Carol, that old Christmas trope where Scrooge’s heart grows three sizes after being visited by the ghost of Hermie the Dentist. But I’m going to choose to believe he’s talking about “The Christmas Spirit” by Rob Smales (available now in Triplicity) or Rob’s other murderous holiday tale, “Carol of the Bells.” Why do I only have one friend who writes scary Christmas stories? Were you suggesting the party to expand my social circle, Andy? . . . You might have a point.
Here’s my point: if I want to be a shut-in throughout the holiday season, that’s my choice, Andy. Stop ordering me around. If you need me, I’ll be hibernating--not jingle belling, not mistletoeing—until July, truly the most wonderful time of the year.
I also don’t appreciate that line “Be of good cheer.” I do not like being told what to do. Don’t tell me how to feel, Andy, you psychotic control freak. In fact, because you ordered me to be of good cheer, I’m going to do the exact opposite, just to spite you. How do you like them snowflakes, Andy?
Andy also “promises” that there will be “parties for hosting, marshmallows for toasting . . .” and his tone implies that these are good things. So you’re telling me I have to host a party? This means that on top of shopping, wrapping, writing out cards, and putting up the tree, I also have to clean my house, probably repaint the walls in the living room (they really do need it), and prepare food for what? Thirty? And they’ll probably expect alcohol. Who’s going to pay for that? And who’s going to find and buy the toilet-seat warmer, Andy? Are you? Plus, I’m an introvert. Hosting a party and socializing pretty much describes my worst nightmare. Thanks a bunch, you sadistic jerk.
And you’re saying marshmallows have to be on the menu. Where would you like people to toast them, Andy? Are you going to install a fireplace in my home before the party? Stop telling me what to do!
At least the kids will be entertained with the jingle belling. (What does that even mean? Do you hear yourself? The cold has numbed your brain to the point where you’re not even making sense, Andy!)
The only good part of the song is where Andy croons, “There’ll be scary ghost stories.” I can get on board with that. He’s probably talking about A Christmas Carol, that old Christmas trope where Scrooge’s heart grows three sizes after being visited by the ghost of Hermie the Dentist. But I’m going to choose to believe he’s talking about “The Christmas Spirit” by Rob Smales (available now in Triplicity) or Rob’s other murderous holiday tale, “Carol of the Bells.” Why do I only have one friend who writes scary Christmas stories? Were you suggesting the party to expand my social circle, Andy? . . . You might have a point.
Here’s my point: if I want to be a shut-in throughout the holiday season, that’s my choice, Andy. Stop ordering me around. If you need me, I’ll be hibernating--not jingle belling, not mistletoeing—until July, truly the most wonderful time of the year.
You can tell he's a sadistic control freak just by looking at him.
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