There's Some Crazy in the Christmas Carols

I admit that I am crazy for Christmas. I'm yahoo for yuletide. Over the years, I have amassed an embarrassingly large collection of Christmas CDs--so many that my adoring husband has now banned me from purchasing even one more disc of carols. While I love almost all of them, I have to admit there are some downright strange lyrics to more than a handful of these songs. Some of these are just in-your-face absurd: "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" is basically a song about the merriment of vehicular manslaughter, and let's not forget the ridiculousness of  "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" (Oh, you do, princess? Well, too bad, because the health department says no. Now, go play with the American Girl doll your mom had to kill and maim to get for you).

But I've noticed some oddities in other songs that you might not have given much thought; these little ditties are pretty well-known songs, and yet, when I really stop and think about what it is we are singing, I scratch my head. Here are just a few of the songs (and their lyrics) that I find seriously questionable:

All I Want for Christmas:

I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you
You baby.


Just to (further) prove what a horrendous actor Mariah Carey really is, I don't believe for one second that all Mimi wants for Christmas is me, er, you, er, whoever she's singing into her bedazzled, 24-karat gold microphone about. This is coming from a woman who bathes in champagne and uses cashmere washcloths, before spritzing herself with eau de angel tears and flossing her teeth with diamond tennis bracelets (or whatever it is extravagantly rich people do in their spare time). I would be more inclined to believe her crooning if she were singing to a giant stack of gold bars. Still, according to the former Mrs. Nick Cannon, she doesn't need snow, mistletoe, reindeer, or presents. All she wants for Christmas is you--and probably  a new car, a fur coat, and a few dozen servants catering to her every whim. But that's just way harder to rhyme.

We Need A Little Christmas:

Haul out the holly
Put up the tree before my spirit falls again
Fill up the stocking
I may be rushing things, but deck the halls again now

For I've grown a little leaner, grown a little colder
Grown a little sadder, grown a little older
And I need a little angel sitting on my shoulder
I need a little Christmas now


The holidays can bring out the crazy in the best of us, but clearly, this is a disturbed, mood-swinging person singing this song and barking out the decorating orders. Hurry and get that tree up, and don't forget to hang the Prozac garland! Put the angel on top before my other personality loses interest! We've gotta celebrate before mama's medication wears off. Don't get your tinsel in a tangle, fruitcake. It'll get decorated when it gets decorated, so let's hope your meds are time-released. Now, be sure to leave some Xanax and milk for Santa because it's going to be a long holiday season.

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus:

I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus

Underneath the mistletoe last night.
She didn't see me creep
Down the stairs to 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
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night . . .
Last night

I'm sorry, did you say what a laugh it would have been? For your dad to catch your mom stepping out on him, under his own roof, with a fat man in a bright red suit? I don't know what kind of crazy swingers you have for parents, kid, but in most houses, that would not have caused much of a giggle. And exactly how long did you watch Mommy and Santa's little escapade? Because that's called voyeurism, and it'll get you slapped with the nickname Peeping Tom pretty quick, too, buddy. Unless domestic disputes tickle your funny bone, maybe you want to just keep quiet about Mommy's indiscretions. At least until Santa brings Mommy and Daddy an "open marriage" and leaves it under the tree. Or stuffs their stockings with counseling sessions.

This is how I picture the Christmas shoes. Not exactly "to die for."

The Christmas Shoes:

Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my mama, please
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


In my book, this is hands down the worst of all Christmas songs. I can be the first to admit that a good pair of shoes can work wonders, but this kid's mom is on her death bed and he is out bumming change for a sweet pair of Keds or something. The song plainly tells you that the boy in the checkout line doesn't have enough money for the shoes he's trying to buy, so he turns to a stranger and proceeds to give him his sob story in an effort to get shoe money. The whole thing just leaves my head swimming with questions: where is the dad in this story? Didn't anyone notice this child wandering off alone in search of the perfect pair of Crocs for his mama? What kid even knows his mother's shoe size, anyway? Here we have grifting, stranger danger, and rampant materialism all wrapped up into one little tune. Maybe , just maybe, the kid's mom would rather just spend some precious last quality time with her son rather than scoring a new pair of kicks before she, well, kicks the bucket. 

Deck the halls, jingle your bells, and dash through the snow all you want. Just beware of crazy Christmas claims about folks not wanting gifts, mood disorders, yuletide adulterers, and phishing scams in the shoe department checkout line. Keep calm and carol on--Christmas is right around the corner!