Well the year from Hell is slowly coming to a close. We have heard all the bad news we can stand, and yet more keeps coming every day. As a concerned citizen it makes me ask a question. Should I heap, even more, bad news upon your beaten brows and get it all out of the way while we’re still already so low, or wait until we feel better and then destroy another day? I interviewed those close to me, which isn’t many since we are once again under quarantine.

I wanted to examine the possibilities before I went out to gather data. So, I thought about the pros and cons. If I wait, I will be ruining another day in the future. What if things don’t get better right away? I could have this truth festering in my soul for who knows how long? And a festered soul can be pretty darn painful. I understand St. Peter offers poorer eternal accommodations for souls damaged by festering. I left a message at the Vatican, but as of the publishing date they have yet to get back to me. Wow, that sounded like I’m a real journalist. If I had said, “They released a statement to the effect…” you wouldn’t have known this was a blog post. But back to the point.

On the other side of the issue, putting more bad news on a year like this one, might drive the faint of heart, to do something rash or crazy like drink Day-Old milk, or eat a garlic onion three-bean salad right before going to bed. I don’t think any hospital in the world is set up for that kind of emergency. So, the question comes down to your faint hearts or my festered soul and there are no clear answers. The question went to the family.

My wife was less than enthusiastic, answering I should do what I want and then into a diatribe about my spending habits. I swear those toasters are going to go up in value. My children answered; “Who cares?” “Huh?” and “Get out of here I’m doing homework,” respectively. The dog was no help. His answer was, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” ad infinitum. The cat was the only one to give a straight answer, he said, “Tell them. What do I care about their hearts? And don’t forget to feed and brush me.” He’s consistent that way.

I guess I would rather not have a festered soul and therefore agree with the cat. Consequently here’s the disclaimer:  I am giving you more bad news. I will endeavor to do it in the most humane way possible. It may stir your childhood a bit but at least it’s not as bad as the warranty on your car expiring and I promise I will get it over with and not call you at dinner every night for the next year. I accept no responsibility if you do something stupid because of this post unless you see this as a positive revelation and leave me all your money in your will. If you do, I’ll take it.

They say the truth is out there and today I’m going to give it to you. You know all those holiday songs that we sing year after year? They are lying to us. They have been lying to us for hundreds of years and we go right along singing them. Don’t believe me? Well once you bring that Ol’ Tanenbaum into the house the so called ever-green branches turn brown and dry out in a couple of weeks. You might wait until late December to put up the tree but unless you cut the thing yourself, it’s going to brown up. The song should be Oh Tanenbaum, Oh Tanenbaum how evergreen your branches until somebody hacks you down and we bring you in the house. I’m just saying, I like to have the truth.

Then again, have you ever thought abought about The Twelve Days of Christmas?  What are they? What they are is the twelve days after Christmas, from December twenty-nine to January six. Now if you listen to the words, they say that you started getting stuff on the first day of Christmas, and were cool with it. That is not true. If I waited until the day after Christmas to show up with a gift for my true love, this would not be cool. Then again if that gift was a pint-sized bird in a cheap sapling, I don’t think she’d be my true love on day two for the turtle doves. To top it off we’re not even talking about the gold rings until New Year’s Eve. By that time, she’ll probably be drinking champaign with Carlie Barret. He’s been trying to horn in on my girl for years. Very not cool.

Another big falsehood is the very first word of Jingle bells; Dashing. Now dashing can mean two things; good looking, but considering the rest of the tune, this is probably not what they were going for. It can also mean running a short distance. If you’re trying to run in the snow, good luck. You don’t dash in snow you slog. Oh wait, you’re in a sleigh. You cannot dash in a sleigh. The horse would be the one moving. Horses do have different gaits. They walk, trot, canter, run and gallop. They do not dash. Lies, lies, all lies.

On top of that, there’s Frosty the Snowman. Supposedly he’s a jolly happy soul, NOT. The second verse indicates very clearly that he’s worried for his life. He wants to have fun before he melts away. There’s no jolly, happy in this. This is sad, like when your hamster can no longer run on the big wheel. Sure, they’ll run around and put on their best faces and try to smile, but there will be a somber pall over the whole thing. Of course, you could be a mean-spirited deviant who likes to watch as fictional characters, who have done nothing wrong, slowly melt into nothingness. I guess that would make you jolly and happy, but certainly not Frosty.

Next, you’ve got Silver Bells. Is the city decorated with them? Of course. Are they ringing? Probably, but they’re not the sound you hear. I never hear them above the bustle. Even when I try. There’s just too much bustle as the song puts it. This time of the year the only ding-a-ling you’re hearing from is the guy trying to sell you an extended warranty on aunt Petunias electronic device.

Yes, It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas. The thing is, I would like a bit of truth in the songs we have been teaching our children for generations. I could also do without the bullying. Maybe the Grand Hotel doesn’t want a tree and would prefer a gingerbread house. Both are beautiful and Christmassy, but the song has dictated it must be a tree with candy canes and silver lanes aglow. What the heck’s a silver lane anyway? Also, the prettiest sight to see won’t be holly on my front door.

I will not submit.