Top Ten Worst Christmas Songs

Christmas is just a few days away, which means that by now Christmas music is pretty much the ambient musical norm wherever you go: on the radio, in the store, at the restaurant, Christmas tunes are ubiquitous. While most of these holiday-oriented songs are perfectly fine, some are truly awful. 

When it comes to lists of horrible Christmas songs, there is no shortage of opinions as to which songs are the worst. I, of course, have my own list of hated holiday tunes, which may or may not look different than other people's lists. For example, there are a lot of Christmas songs that other people can't stand but I tolerate: I can't get too worked up about either Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime," or Mariah Carey's "All I Want for Christmas I you," even though a lot of people utterly detest both songs. And there are probably some songs I hate that other people absolutely adore. 

The following is my countdown of the worst ten Christmas songs that need to be canceled immediately. Note that I make no distinction between "novelty" Christmas songs and "serious" ones, because they all seem to get played this time of year regardless. (Besides, aren't all Christmas songs essentially "novelty" songs?)

10. Do They Know It's Christmas? (Band Aid)

A "feed the world" song performed by some of the biggest names in British pop music might have made sense in 1984, when countries like Ethiopia were being wracked by starvation and death caused by famine (and exacerbated by the brutal incompetence of the Soviet-aligned Derg regime in Addis Ababa). But this condescending, neo-colonialist dreck has not aged well and should be retired from the annual holiday rotation. Bono's sneering "well tonight thank God it's them instead of you" stanza is probably the most cringy Christmas lyric ever recored.

  

9. I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas (Gayla Peevey)

This marching band-like tune from the early 50s, sung by a girl with an irritating nasally voice who thinks she's entitled to a wild animal for Christmas, was just a bad idea all around. No, you don't want a hippopotamus for Christmas: the animal is one of the most dangerous to humans, and it also does this:

A lot of people still think this song is "cute." But when I hear this girl prattle on about how she only likes "hippopotamuseses," I get the urge to smack someone.  

8. The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late) (Alvin and the Chipmunks) 

The vocal tracks were sped up to create the high-pitched "chipmunk" voices in the song, which might have been cutting-edge technology when the song was recorded in 1958 but has not aged well. Put it this way: if I had to choose between listening to the grating, shrill, barely-intelligible vocals in this song or listening to fingernails on a blackboard, I'd probably opt for the latter. The song also features "bandleader" Ross Bagdasarian screaming at Alvin twice during the course of the two minute, twenty-second song, which is jarring as well.

It's hard to believe that this song went to #1 on the Billboard chart and won three Grammys in 1958. It's even harder to believe that this all-around unpleasant song is still played during the holidays today.

7. Jingle Bell Rock (originally by Bobby Helms)

I might be the only person the world who hates this song. But I hate it for the same reason that a lot of people hate Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmastime" - it's a crass, obnoxious earworm. What the hell is a "jingle hop" or a "jingle horse" or a "jingle bell square?" How many times can you use the word "jingle" in a single song, anyway?

This is a 1950s-era "rock and roll is here, and it's really cool and hip, so let's make a Christmas song about it!" tune that should have been left in the fifties.

6. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus (Jackson 5)

I'm sorry, but a song about a kid who witnesses his mom low-level cheating on his dad with Jolly Ol' Saint Nick isn't exactly one that brings me Christmas joy. In fact, it's sort of creepy. And, yes, I know the song's "inside joke" is that Santa is actually the kid's dad. But that only makes it even creepier because now it sounds like the kid is witnessing his parents' cosplay sex fetish.  

  

But what's creepiest about this song is that Michael Jackson sang it, and then later would go on to (allegedly) sexually assault young boys. 

(A side note: if Santa were real, can you imagine all the sex he would get? Bored and frazzled housewives all over the world would be throwing themselves at him to simultaneously thank him for bringing presents to their bratty kids and live out some weird daddy sex fantasy. Santa would be so busy banging moms that he wouldn't have time to deliver presents.) 

5. Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree (originally by Brenda Lee)

If "Jingle Bell Rock" is a dated, 1950's "rock and roll is new and cool" earworm, "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree"is exponentially worse. The rockabilly guitar, the bleating saxophone, the nonsensical lyrics (seriously, what does "dancing merrily / in the new old-fashioned way" actually mean, anyway?) all combine to create a catchy-yet-repetitive tune that gets stuck in your head and won't leave you in peace. It's a song that can drive one to insanity, which is why I hate it.

Part of the problem with this song - both the Lee original and its multitude of covers - is that it's ridiculously overplayed. So much so that as of last week it became the #1 song on the Billboard Hot 100, 65 years after it was originally recorded. This is why America can't have nice things.

4. Merry Christmas With Love (Clay Aiken)

A friend of mine believes that this overproduced, maudlin piece of mush is "not only the worst Christmas song, it's probably one of the worst songs ever recorded." Having only been casually exposed to it before writing this blog entry, I decided to give it a close listen. 

I couldn't even make it to the end.

To be fair to Aiken, his was not the song's original recording. But he chose to breathe new life into this auditory atrocity by covering it, so he deserves blame.

3. Santa Baby (originally by Eartha Kitt)

Speaking of sex and Santa... Here's a song about a woman with a ridiculously long wish list of lavish and expensive things she wants for Christmas, with a suggestive vibe that implies the singer is willing to trade sexual favors with Santa for said gifts. "Hurry down the chimney for me," indeed.

This sex-and-greed song has been covered countless times since the Eartha Kitt original, but it doesn't matter if it's Madonna's extra-raunchy version, or Michael Bublé's bizarre "bro" version: it's a fundamentally awful song. No wonder a couple of years ago a survey determined that it was America's most disliked Christmas song.

2. The Christmas Shoes (New Song)

A lot of people place this truly disturbing tune at the very top of their worst Christmas songs list, and for good reason: it is a horrible song that should never have been written or recorded. I personally give thanks to the fact that I don't hear this one very often, because I think most decent people are horrified by it and don't want to listen to it. Needless to say, if you think a song about a kid trying to buy shoes for his cancer-stricken, dying mother is somehow a "good" Christmas song, you really need to re-think what Christmas is all about.

But don't take it from me; here's Patton Oswald to explain just how depraved and ridiculous this musical monstrosity actually is:

1. Baby, It's Cold Outside (Frank Loesser; originally performed in the film Neptune's Daughter) 

I've already written about how much I hate this song, and not just because of the coercive, date-rapey creepiness implied by its annoying, call-and-response lyrics: 

The song is melodically repetitive, monotonous and uninteresting; it lacks the most basic elements of songcraft, such as a bridge or a chorus. What's more, it's not even a song about Christmas; there's no mention of anything holiday-related in the lyrics. "It's cold outside" in January, February and even March, too, depending on where you live, so why is this piece of acoustic crap assumed to be a holiday song?

So while various artists can attempt to rehab this song's problematic image by changing the lyrics - see Me and Him reversing its gender roles, or John Legend and Kelly Clarkson creating a "consent" version - it's still just an all around shitty tune.

Please, quit playing this tiresome and repugnant not-a-Christmas song. It sucks.

In fact, please make the holiday season better for everyone by no longer playing any of the songs on this list.

Housekeeping and Happy New Year

I'll be ringing in 2020 tonight, and with then be heading to Louisiana for a few days of post-holiday vacation. As well as being the last post of 2019, this will also likely be my last entry for awhile. There are now officially less than three months remaining until Corinne's and my wedding, and preparing for that event is going to take up an increasing amount of my spare time between now and then (that, in fact, I one of the reasons we are heading to Louisiana this weekend).

But before I do that, a few housekeeping/meta-blogging items I've meant to take care of but haven't done so until now:

First, in keeping with a tradition of archiving family obituaries on this blog, I'm (finally) posting my grandfather Horace Gray's obituary, which I have retroblogged to the day of his passing, August 9, 2000. Hard to believe that he will have been gone twenty years this coming summer.

I'm also making a couple of changes to the blogroll on the right side of this page, starting with my college football links. Since Deadspin has been gutted by its new corporate overlords, it no longer warrants a link. The Every Day Should Be Saturday folks have moved on to the Banner Society (the final post on EDSBS - a dissertation combining life, college football and "Free Bird" - being absolutely epic), so I am replacing the former with a link to the latter.

Finally, and with a bit of sadness, I have deleted my "Dubai" blogroll. As much fun as it was to have played a (small) part of that city's blogosphere a dozen or so years ago, the simple fact is that Dubai is no longer part of my life. I was last there over seven years ago, I am no longer at a job that requires me to travel there, and I doubt I will be heading back there for any reason anytime soon. Furthermore, most of the blogs I linked to have either become dormant (an exception being Alexander McNabb's  Fake Plastic Souks) or their writers have moved.

Everybody be safe tonight, and may you have a wonderful 2020!

Christmastime at the Roosevelt Hotel

Corinne and I went to her hometown of New Orleans last weekend, and she took me to see one oft he Crescent City's holiday must-sees: the lobby of the Roosevelt Hotel.

The lobby of the 124-year-old hotel spans a block, the length of which is positively bursting with Christmas. It's been lined with 78 birch trees that glitter with lights from bow-bedecked planters, and 46 Christmas trees dusted with fake snow and shimmering with red and gold ornaments. 

There are also 387 bows and 1,610 feet of lighted garland — and that's not including the other decorations throughout the hotel, which flank the reception hall doors and are scattered throughout the incredibly festive gift shop. 

All that decor is added to an already opulent setting, with a line of chandeliers down the lobby.  

Though the hotel opened as The Hotel Grunewald in 1893, it wasn't until the '30s that the tradition arose of decking out the lobby — the same decade that Governor Huey Long would regularly stop by to stay at his own suite there. Since then, it has become a local favorite, with thousands of New Orleans residents and visitors filing in to enjoy the stunning seasonal show. 

Every day throughout the month of December, crowds shuffle in and out throughout the day, dressing up in their Christmas card best to snap family photos and pictures with friends. If they stop in at noon, they can catch local school choirs signing carols.

Although the hotel itself dates back to 1893; the current building was built in 1923. It was severely damaged after Hurricane Katrina and was extensively renovated a couple of years later. It is now a Waldorf-Astoria property.

A view of the lobby from one of its entrances. The corridor was packed with hotel guests as well as sightseers.  

If you look carefully, you can even see Santa Claus enjoying the spectacle.

Another view of the lobby, which is pretty impressive even without the holiday decorations. The tile floor is pretty cool. And look at those chandeliers! 

Corinne and I decided that the festive scenery would make a nice backdrop for a picture.

Of course, you really can't fully enjoy the spectacle without a Sazerac from its namesake bar in the hotel.  

While perhaps not quite as spectacular, Canal Street just outside the hotel was decked out in holiday lights, wreaths and ribbons, too.

Fun!

Astrodome, again

Last week, Harris County Commissioner's Court voted to spend $105 million to renovate the venerable and vacant Astrodome. This vote, which was actually the second step of an action that the Commissioners took two years ago, seeks to transform the derelict structure into parking and event space.

As readers of this blog know, I've been following the saga of the Astrodome for several years, and although I have a soft spot in my heart for the Eighth Wonder of the World, I'm also highly skeptical that it can be renovated and put to use in an economically viable fashion. This may be a $105 million money sink for county taxpayers. Furthermore, the optics of this spend are especially bad in light of the damage this county suffered from Harvey, as the Press's Cory Garcia notes:

Houston needs flood reform. Just the idea of another Harvey-level storm crashing into the city is enough to make the skin crawl. And yet every time the idea of flood reform comes up it seems like it’s followed by the question of “where will the money come from?” Now sure, $100+ million is a drop in the bucket compared to what is needed to make sure the city doesn’t drown again, but at the very least it can be acknowledged that any excitement about what’s going on with the Dome — especially after voters decided against saving it back in 2013 — is tone deaf.

I get it: Houston is a city that is often seen as one that doesn’t respect or take care of its history. The Astrodome has sentimental value for many sports, sports entertainment and music fans. The building is the “Eighth Wonder of the World,” or at least the coolest contender on the list; no offense to the Palm Islands intended. It makes sense that some people think preserving it for future generations makes sense.

And yes, in the future your kids and your kids’ kids might park their car under it on the way to go see Brad Paisley play his 60th RodeoHouston show and think to themselves, “wow, I bet a ton of people got concussions here!”

That may be harsh, but I’m just not sure that turning the Astrodome into the “8th Wonder of the Convention Hall Circuit” is something worth celebrating while people are still rebuilding their lives and hearing that only so much can be done to prevent it from happening again. I’m sure we’ll host some grand conventions and meetings in the future, but the optics of it all still suck.

The Chronicle's Lisa Falkenburg, on the other hand, thinks that the county's investment in the structure is wise:

To some, investing in the dome seems a nostalgic indulgence in the face of urgent needs. Harvey victims are hoping for a tax break on properties that lost value. Those who use the criminal courts are calling for swift action on the flooded courthouse - either massive repairs or relocating the ill-planned complex once and for all. 

All of the above should be priorities for County Judge Ed Emmett and the four commissioners. 

But here's the thing: leaders have to balance today's needs with tomorrow's. The long view has its virtues. And frankly, it's been all to absent in the decision-making of Houston and Harris County. Shortsightedness has gotten us into a lot of trouble - from poor investment in flooding infrastructure to irresponsible growth that increased the region's vulnerability during storms and rain events. 

It has led us to pave over prairies. To bulldoze historic architecture and old trees and character. And yes, to leave an expensive, beloved, world-famous landmark with a lot of tourism potential rotting away in full view of visitors and homefolk alike. 

So, sure, it may seem tone deaf to pour money into the Astrodome right now, but the decision seems to be in tune with Houston's future needs. 

And critics of the decision either don't understand the facts, or willfully ignore them.

Falkenberg then launches into a point-by-point rebuttal of arguments made by opponents of the renovation project, including the claim that Harris County voters decided to demolish the Dome in a 2013 bond referendum (she's technically right; the vote was to issue bonds to refurbish the Astrodome and said nothing about tearing it down; however, it was clearly intimated by elected officials that, if the vote were to fail, the structure would be demolished). And, while Falkenburg concedes that the optics of this vote weren't particularly good, she correctly notes that this action is the second step on a path that the Commissioner's Court had begun back in 2016, and would have been taken regardless of Harvey. 

At this point, I'm tired of all the political bickering and I'm tired of seeing the grimy, derelict Astrodome sit next to NRG Stadium; I just want the saga of the historic stadium to come to a final resolution. This vote hopefully accomplishes that. I can only hope that things turn out as planned, and that the repurposed Astrodome does indeed generate a return on investment for the County. It's worth noting that the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo does seem much more sanguine about this project than they have towards previous renovation proposals; hopefully that's a good sign. 

The funding sources for the $105 million construction budget are general revenues (i.e. property taxes), hotel occupancy taxes, and parking revenue. Construction is expected to begin later this year and take about 17 months to complete. 

Ten years of Artemis and Orion (and Happy New Year!)

It's actually been a bit over ten years since I got these two ridiculous furballs (they were adopted right before Thanksgiving 2007):

Needless to say, they've grown a bit over the past decade. So have I, for that matter:

Although their "official" names are Artemis and Orion - I've always named my cats after figures from Greek mythology - they've always gone by "Little Girl" and "Black Cat," respectively.

From the three of us to all of you: Happy New Year!

Romantic, rapey or just rubbish?

Emily Crockett ponders the 1944 Christmastime standard "Baby, It's Cold Outside:"

When you first hear it, the song seems like a cute, flirty call-and-response duet between a man and his lady friend who are debating whether she should stay the night. On the one hand, what would her parents or the neighbors think? On the other hand, it’s just so cold outside. The ending is ambiguous, but it’s implied that she decides to stay after all, keeping them both warm on a cold winter’s night. 

But when you listen closer, the song’s lyrics also seem, well ... a little rapey. The guy ignores his date’s protests and badgers her to stay, which feels a lot like sexual coercion. At one point the woman asks, “Say, what’s in this drink?” — which is pretty alarming to a modern audience that understands how roofies work. The original score even lists the man’s part as “Wolf” and the woman’s part as “Mouse,” making the predator/prey dynamic creepily explicit. 

The song’s legions of defenders argue that those concerns are overblown. They note “What’s in this drink?” was a common joke in the 1930s and ’40s made by people who wanted to make an excuse for something that they knew very well they shouldn’t be doing. And in that more prudish time period, women were expected to turn down sex (at first, anyway) even if they wanted it. 

The vastly different ways people hear the same short song have set off an annual internet battle over its feminist merits. For every think piece calling it a “date-rape anthem,” there’s a corresponding “Oh, come on” take about how oversensitive “social justice warriors” are killing romance and seduction and taking the song’s lyrics out of context. 

Which reading is right? Is “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” too problematic to enjoy with a clear conscience anymore, or is our perception of it the real problem?

Crockett goes on to break down the song's lyrics, providing both a "rapey" and "romantic" interpretation of each verse, and then goes into a lengthy discussion about the song, its historical context, its modern interpretation, sexual assault, feminism and affirmative consent. The "romantic versus rapey" debate regarding "Baby, It's cold Outside" is not new, and is culturally important.

However, this debate overlooks the most important and fundamental issue regarding this song, which is that IT ABSOLUTELY SUCKS.

"Baby, It's Cold Outside" is the Yuletide equivalent of fingernails on a blackboard. Its call-and-response lyrical structure is obnoxious and annoying, and the lyrics themselves are as vapid as they are creepy. The song is melodically repetitive, monotonous and uninteresting; it lacks the most basic elements of songcraft, such as a bridge or a chorus. What's more, it's not even a song about Christmas; there's no mention of anything holiday-related in the lyrics. "It's cold outside" in January, February and even March, too, depending on where you live, so why is this piece of acoustic crap assumed to be a holiday song?

Look, a lot of Christmas songs are utter garbage. Humanity died a little when "Jingle Bell Rock" and "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" were recorded, and don't even get me started on the mind-bending stupidity that is "Christmas Shoes." But "Baby, It's Cold Outside" is the absolute worst. It is unlistenable, a crime against music. I don't know it really is a song about date rape, but I do know that I feel like my ears are being raped every time it is played.

So, please: stop playing this song. Better yet, delete or destroy every copy and every version of this song, and for the love of baby Jesus stop recording new versions of it every year.

The best way to resolve the "rapey versus romantic" debate regarding "Baby, It's cold Outside" - and, in the process, to improve Christmas music as a whole - is to simply erase this horrible excuse for a song out of existence entirely.

Seriously. It sucks.

The Hell of unrequited love

Today, the 2015 edition of my least favorite holiday, I find myself between girlfriends, and pondering all the the things I dislike about love and relationships. The worst is unrequited love. As Elizabeth Shore explains, it is absolute Hell:

There’s a curious thing about unrequited love that I’ve never really understood. Why in the world is it considered so romantic? Untold poems and novels have been written about it, countless movies have made us shed sympathetic tears. But if you think about it, the admirer, the one whose heart is filled with love for another who doesn’t feel the same, is in a f**k ton of pain. Deep, intense, debilitating pain. The kind that robs you of the ability to sleep, or eat, or sometimes even breathe. Anyone who’s suffered the hell of a broken heart can sympathize. So again I wonder, why for time immemorial has unrequited love been considered romantic?

It's not noble or romantic or otherwise desirable to continue to be in love with somebody you cannot be with. In fact, it is pathetic, stupid and illogical. Part of the Hell, in fact, is exactly because it's so stupid and illogical. The object of your affection is never going to love you. And you rationally, conciously understand that, but your uncontrollable, irrational desire for them continues to claw at your brain. So why is this concept considered to be so admirable or appealing?

Perhaps the appeal is the idea of someone loving us so deeply and so completely; an all-consuming attachment to just one person. The pursuer is relentless, devoting endless time and effort toward the object of his affection. The ideal of utter devotion being directed toward us could certainly be flattering. Think about someone obsessing over little ol’ you! Except here’s the thing: for me romance is and always will be a two-way street. You love me, I love you. It’s gotta go both ways. And sure, there are obstacles and conflict and challenges along the way. If there weren’t we romance authors would have butkus to write about. Smooth sailing doesn’t make for a compelling read. But to have someone possess intense feelings of love toward someone else, and for that love to be unreturned or even shunned … well, that’s just sad.



(the physical heart does not really control one's emotions, but you get the point)

I'm reflecting upon this due to my most recent interaction with She Whom I've Fancied Since High School. I had this crazy idea that since we were both available, and since we had an otherwise close friendship, I ought to test the waters with her one more time before wading back into the larger dating pool. "Maybe her feelings towards me have changed over time," I rationalized. "Maybe the fact that I've been so loyal to her for so long will cause her to re-evaluate our relationship."

Alas, no such luck. The “no way, no how, you're nothing more than a friend to me so just stop it!” response I received back from her caused me to burn with embarrassment. I went from “well, if I’ve thought about her this strongly for this long, I should at least give it one more try” to “wow, how could I still be such an idiot, especially after all these years?!" It was a humiliation that I richly deserved, because I let these long-simmering emotions for her get the better of me. But it also left me - yeah - heartbroken.

An interesting article in the New York Times talked about the fact that the admirer in a one-way love situation isn’t the only one who suffers. Findings by researchers published in The Journal of Personality and Social Psychology revealed that the rejector sometimes feels as deep or even more emotional pain than the admirer. Curious, right? Apparently, after a period of initial flattery, the rejector feels bewilderment, guilt, and eventually anger at the relentless efforts of the admirer.



Hence, the frustrated tone of She Whom I've Fancied Since High School's response. She knows how I feel about her, but she will never be able to feel the same way about me and it upsets her so she wants me to quit bugging her about it. If only it were that easy, after 25 years!

I can relate, to a point, because of my most recent relationship: for whatever reason, I could not love my ex-girlfriend with the same intensity that she loved me. It's not that I didn't want to or didn't try; it's just that something didn't work: again, love is not logical. Over time, it became very stressful for me. "What is wrong with me?" I wondered. "Why can't I love her the way she loves me?" It got to the point that every time the phase "I love you" came from her mouth, I bristled with guilt and resentment. When I finally told her that I just didn't love her and it wasn't going to work out, a great weight was lifted from my shoulders, even though I know it hurt her deeply.

It's easy to rationalize myself into feeling better by saying "well, at least I gave a relationship with my ex-girlfriend an honest try, unlike She Whom I've Fancied Since High School, who won't even give me a chance." But the pain of loving yet not being loved in return is the same, as is the hopeless realization that the feelings are not something you can easily, rationally control.

So this Valentine's Day, as those couples who are happily in love with each other celebrate, let us also recognize those whose love, real and valid as it might be, is not being returned. These are people who are literally in pain, and they cannot easily make it go away. They deserve compassion and support, because they truly are in Hell.

Happy New Year!

Wishing everybody a safe and enjoyable New Year's Eve and a happy and prosperous 2015!

A Devil in the house

This commercial is apparently a few years old, but I had never seen it before it made the rounds on Facebook this week, so...



Happy Halloween, everyone!

The year that went by very quickly

They say that as you get older, the years go by faster. Nevertheless, I'm really surprised at how quickly 2013 seems to have passed. It really feels hard to believe that a week from Thursday will mark my one-year anniversary at my "new" job!

2013 was not a particularly eventful year for me, and perhaps that's why it seems to have flown by as quickly as it did. The new job - adjusting and settling in - was in and of itself the big story of the year. I really didn't experience any life-changing events in 2013 (although I will miss Genghis), and the fact that I had to accrue vacation time from scratch at my new job limited the amount of traveling I did. Other than day trips to place like Galveston or San Antonio, the only true "vacation" I took was in early August, when Kirby and I made our annual trip to Denver to see my brother and his girlfriend. We had a good time - we rode the Royal Gorge Railroad and visited Black Canyon of the Gunnison and Mesa Verde National Parks - but it was a relatively short trip and I could really use an extended, true vacation in 2014.

2014 may turn out to be a more eventful year for me, for a variety of reasons. We shall see. HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Merry Christmas!

From a (rather reluctant) Black Cat and myself!

(And after the holidays are over, I'm going back on that diet. Ugh!)

Yep, pretty much...

As seen on Facebook:

Merry Christmas!

I'm done Christmas shopping

Yes, it took me until the Saturday before Christmas to finish up, and yes, I spent way more than I budgeted on gifts. But the sense of relief and accomplishment that comes with knowing that "I'm done" is well worth it.

I still experience Christmas gift angst; that will probably never go away. I just try not to worry about it that much. Make a reasonable effort to give people the things that they ask for, and hold onto your receipts just in case. I've come to find that, either way, your friends and family will generally appreciate it.

After all, it's Christmas.

The afternoon before Thanksgiving

It's the afternoon before Thanksgiving, and I have miraculously navigated my way through a stressful and chaotic madhouse.

The crush of people made me uncomfortable and claustrophobic. The long, slow-moving lines were exasperating. Everybody was in a hurry. Everybody was impatient. Nerves were frayed, and patience was wearing thin amongst everyone.

It took everything I had to keep myself calm and polite. I managed to make my way through without completely losing it. I can now enjoy my holiday.

I'm not talking about the airport, by the way. I'm talking about my neighborhood grocery store.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Krewe of Pygmalion 2012

Since I had so much fun doing it last year, and since my float lieutenant invited me back to ride again this year, last weekend I headed back to New Orleans for the 2012 Krewe of Pgymalion Mardi Gras parade.
One thing I love about Mardi Gras is that New Orleans celebrates the holiday with the same festive intensity that the rest of the nation reserves for the Christmas season. People decorate their houses, like this one in the French Quarter, with elaborate and beautiful decorations.
If you've never been inside a float, this is what it looks like. Hooks are provided for participants to lay out beads and other goodies to throw. The rest of the throws are in the bags below, and although the hooks are nice to have, it's hard to "refill" them once the supply of throws hung from them is exhausted and the float is moving. Which means we spend most of the parade frantically tearing through our bags, pulling out throws, removing them from their plastic wrappers and tossing them to the crowds. By the time the parade is over the deck of the float is strewn knee-high with plastic wrappers, cardboard boxes, vinyl bags, broken strands of beads and empty food and beverage containers.
This year's theme was vintage board games, and each float was dedicated to a different game. Mine was the "Payday" float. It was rather windy and chilly Saturday night. I was wearing a shirt, sweater and jacket underneath my costume smock and I was still freezing cold.
Some revelers on St. Charles Avenue. It seemed to me that the crowds were a bit smaller than last year - the cooler weather probably had something to do with it - but they were still out in force. In terms of throws, beads are still the main attraction. When they're flying through the air, they are magical, priceless artifacts that spectators jostle each other for. If they hit the ground without being caught, however, they're deemed to be worthless! (And to the punk kids who ask for beads and then deliberately move out of the way to avoid catching them: you aren't being clever, you're being annoying and stupid.) Children's toys are also quite popular, as are some of the Krewe's other specialty throws like lighted medallions. The occasional Moon Pie or bag of Zapp's Potato Chips is also appreciated by the revelers. Doubloons didn't seem to be quite as popular; a handful of collectors go crazy for them, but they're too small for most people to see or catch, especially at night.
Saturday I was a participant. Sunday I was a spectator. Here, the Krewe of Carrollton rolls down Canal Street. In addition to being in and watching parades, I also ate at a few of my favorite New Orleans restaurants, spent a lot of time walking around the Quarter, and, of course, hung out on Bourbon Street.

All in all, I had a great time. However, as of right now I'm not completely sure if I'll go back for a third ride next year. As much fun as I had, and as much as I enjoy the folks on my float and the people of the Krewe in general, the fact remains that participating in a Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans is a costly endeavor. There's the membership fee, the cost of the throws, the cost of lodging (hotels in New Orleans gleefully jack up their prices for Mardi Gras), the cost of parking and transportation ($33 a night to park my car in the hotel garage? Seriously?), the cost of the afterparty and, of course, the cost for meals and drinks. To say I spent a total of about two grand on this year's trip would be a conservative estimate.

But, like I said, I had a wonderful time and I'm glad I got the opportunity to do this for the second year in a row.

I still hate Valentine's Day

Another Valentine's Day is upon us. I still think it is a silly and contrived Hallmark holiday. I wish people would stop celebrating it, or at the very least quit making such a big deal out of it. CNN commentator Dean Obeidallah explains why he hates Valentine's Day, and I can't argue with his logic:

What may have started out as a holiday intended to bring couples together has been transformed into a commercial spectacle peddled to us by florists, greeting card companies, jewelry stores and makers of stuffed animals.

My issue is not with being romantic or expressing your feelings to the person you love. My issue is being required to do so on February 14. This date has zero connection to us. Each year on February 14 we are in essence commanded to be "romantic."

Shouldn't romance be organic -- sort of like a "Cialis moment"? That's the "moment" in the TV commercials for Cialis, the drug designed to combat erectile dysfunction -- where the couple is lifting a table together, their eyes meet, and bingo: It's a "Cialis moment." It may be drug-enhanced, but at least they chose the moment.

I understand that Valentine's Day earnestly purports to bring couples closer together. Great idea, but let's be honest, how many of you have had fights on Valentine's Day because of Valentine's Day?

I certainly have had my share, usually when one of us in the relationship (namely me) didn't buy a nice enough gift or put in enough time planning a special "VDay" activity -- thus, transforming Valentine's Day from a romantic evening for two into a scene from the film "The War of the Roses."

Yep. Been there and done that. Many times. Including today. You see, my son has a doctor's appointment early tomorrow morning, which means that I can't drive all the way out to the suburbs to spend the night with my girlfriend. And so she says she is "a little irritated" with me, which is to say she's absolutely furious at me. There's no way to make it up to her, either. I can't do Valentine's Day on the 15th or the 16th. The nature of Valentine's Day is such that you have to do something, it has to be good enough for your significant other to accept, and it has to be on the 14th. Nothing less will do.

Perhaps I'm just an unromantic sourpuss. But what, exactly, is romantic about compulsion? What should I find joyful about a holiday that oftentimes inspires within me little more than dread, frustration, and shame?

If we as a society absolutely must celebrate Valentine's Day, fine. But let's not take it so seriously. Let's respect the opinions of those who don't care for it. Let's realize that love is just as worthy of celebration on the other 364 days of the year as it is on February 14th. And let's not let a day that purports to bring us together become one that drives resentful wedges between us instead.

Merry Christmas!

Here's to hoping that everybody has a wonderful holiday season, and best wishes for 2012!

Honest Abe

For somebody who's about to load up on candy, Kirby doesn't look too happy. Either that, or he's completely "in character," considering that Abraham Lincoln never exactly looked happy in any of his photographs...
Happy Halloween, everyone!

Krewe of Pygmalion 2011

So a month ago I rode in the 2011 Krewe of Pygmalion Parade in New Orleans. In typical Thomas fashion, I didn't get around to writing and posting pictures until now. Better late than never, I guess. Anyway...
The wine-themed Krewe of Cork parades through the French Quarter. I had never been to New Orleans during Mardi Gras season before. I enjoyed the festive "vibe" the city possesses during this time of year; it really is a different place than it is during the summer or fall. The French Quarter is decorated for Mardi Gras like most communities would decorate for Christmas, with green, gold and purple flags, banners, bunting and ornaments everywhere. Here's one example of the elaborate Mardi Gras ornaments that adorn the historic buildings of the Quarter. Our parade followed behind the Krewe of Sparta parade. The morning of the parade, their floats were lined up along Julia Street in the Warehouse District as they made last-minute preparations for the evening. Our floats were lined up a few blocks away.
As we made our way from the Warehouse District to the parade's staging area, we began preparing by putting beads on hooks to make them easier to access and throw. Although I was surrounded by several large bags of beads, doubloons and other throws, I didn't know how quickly I would go through all of them and so when the parade started I was careful to ration my throws so that I wouldn't run out before the parade ended. However, by the time the parade reached downtown I realized I had many more beads than I could get rid of so I began furiously flinging handfuls of them to the crowds. I still had one big bag of beads left over by the time the parade ended.
Here I am, in costume and ready to go as we waited on Napoleon near Magazine for the parade to begin. In retrospect, hanging beads from my arms in preparation to throw them was not a good idea, as they got easily tangled. Students from the James M. Singleton Charter Middle School await the start of the parade. This school was one of several middle and high school marching bands that participated in the parade. I was really impressed with these kids' stamina - they marched, played and danced non-stop for the entire three-hour duration of the parade. Here's the entire "staff" of our float. Float Lieutenant Dave Ghisalbert, who recruited myself as well as several other folks to participate on his float, is on the far right.
Here are the crowds along St. Charles. Notice the stepladders with the seats atop them that the kids sat in. This is very common, are level the float which made it easy to toss beads and other throws (which, aside from beads, doubloons, blinking necklaces, plush toys for kids, moon pies and even Zapp's potato chips) across to them. The St. Charles portion of the route is very family-friendly, with lots of children and no women baring their, well, you know. Another view of the crowds on St. Charles. The guy in the brown shirt uses that net to catch beads and doubloons. The crowds along the downtown portion of the route, which goes up Canal Street and the back down to Tchapitoulas and ends at Poydras, were a bit rowdier and less family-oriented than the crowds along St. Charles.
Another parade crosses Bourbon Street early Sunday afternoon. I was pretty wiped out after my parade on Saturday, so I spent Sunday relaxing, recuperating and enjoying the festivities. I was originally supposed to travel to Dubai the following Monday, but that didn't happen.

All in all, it was a fun experience and I appreciate the opportunity to have participated. Dave sent us our applications for the 2012 parade last week. I am definitely going to do this again next year.