Barry Smith: Irrelativity
December 23, 2012
Let me ask you some very serious questions: Have you ever roasted a chestnut in anything other than a microwave? Ever wassailed? How about a tannenbaum – that do anything for you? Tannenbaums? Show of hands – anybody get all teary-eyed and nostalgic when I mention tannenbaums?
Of course not.
That’s because all those “timeless” Christmas songs were written in, like, 1345 or something. I’m sure they were very meaningful and poignant way back then, but now? King Wenceslas? Who’s that, and what the heck was so good about him, anyway?
It’s time for some new Christmas songs, ones that are a bit more in keeping with the way the world is now. But since the melodies of the old songs are permanently drilled into our heads, there’s no point in tossing them out completely.
Sleigh bells ring, can you hear ’em?/No you can’t, though you’re near ’em/You miss Christmas cheer, ’cause your phone’s at your ear/Talkin’ in a winter wonderland.
Gone away, is interaction/Here to stay, is distraction/Neglecting you all, I’m taking this call/Talkin’ in a winter wonderland.
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In the meadow we can build a snowman/While our phones are cradled in our shoulder/He’ll take one look at us and he’ll say, “Whoa, man!”/”You’re all gonna be deaf when you get older.”
Later on, we’ll ignore/Our loved ones, stare at the floor/Though we’ve all come home, we live on our phone/Talkin’ in a winter wonderland.
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So, come indeed I did, pa rum pum porn porn/I am a poor boy, too, pa rum pum porn porn/I pay no membership fees, pa rum pum porn porn/Free previews fine with me, pa rum pum porn porn, rum pum porn porn, rum pum porn porn.
We wish you a Merry Christmas!/We wish you a Merry Christmas!/We wish you a Merry Christmas!/I have OCD!
Now bring us some figgy puddng!/Now bring us some figgy puddng!/Now bring us some figgy puddng!/I’m also a spoiled and demanding little bastard.
Won’t go until we get some!/Won’t go until we get some!/Won’t go until we get some!/Go ahead and call the cops. Again.
I caught Mommy texting Santa Claus/She left her phone right there where I could see/There were words on there that I don’t quite know/I’m sure that it was Santa, ’cause he kept calling her “Ho.”
Then I caught Mommy texting Santa Claus/Waiting in the Christmas shopping crowd/Grownups don’t know how to text/By technology they’re vexed/She actually spelled out “laughing out loud.”
I caught Mommy texting Santa Claus/Standing in the kitchen making pie/Her back was turned/I grabbed her phone and started to scroll/Through stuff about “huge candy canes” and “big lumps of coal.”
Yes I caught Mommy sexting Santa Claus/Some stuff about a lady and a man/I suppose it gives her thrills/But for the sake of Christmas bills/I hope she’s got the unlimited texting plan.
We’ll be stoned for Christmas/Colorado says it’s cool/Me, you and gramps, with some lava lamps/We’ll be kickin’ it old-school/Christmas Eve will find us/Saying stuff we won’t remember/Yes, we’ll be stoned for Christmas/Like we’ve been since November.
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