Memory And Musing Before Christmas Day

Almost as integral to the season as beloved carols and Christmas songs are parodies of these very same verses. From every two-bit commercial writer who can't scan the meter of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas to the classics like "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells" and "We three kings of Orient are/ Trying to smoke a rubber cigar", travesties and burlesques abound; these are connected, perhaps, through our seasonal frustrations and high spirits, to the old custom of the Lord of Misrule, under whose reign topsy-turvydom was celebrated to help blow off steam. My brothers seem to have the power to reel off such songs extempore and have them make satiric or crazy sense; I have come up with only one poor example in my life, and here it is:

"Here comes Santy Claus, here comes Santy Claus,
Right down Santy Claus Lane.
Jams and jellies fill our bellies
On Santy Claus Lane!
The king is coming! All hail his call!
When you've said Santy you've said it all!
Fa la la la, fa la la la la la la..."

Thus incorporating "Here Comes Santa Claus" with "Ain't We Got Fun" and an old Budweiser beer commercial.

I've seen in several places lately what I can only call the defense of an un-Christian Christmas. Various post-ers and pundits have talked about how, although they are far from being Christians of any sort of stripe, they still celebrate Christmas for all its pageantry and pleasantry, its memories and spirit. And I say, God bless them, go for it. In the midst of their wintry philosophies if they can have at least a little taste of the Great Feast and Dance which is at the core of our faith, they may have a few crumbs that fall from the table. It might give them a desire to finally come in, sit down, and join the party.

And so, until the festivities have died down, look to see me no more. Merry Christmas to all, and God bless us, every one.