[ExI] newtonmas songs again

spike at rainier66.com spike at rainier66.com
Fri Dec 20 16:57:56 UTC 2019

In our Newtonmas season, the last struggling bricks and mortar retailers live or die based on Newtonmas sales.  It is easy enough to tell if a retailer will survive the coming year by standing outside the door in early December and noting how much merchandise is leaving.  The math is pretty easy.


In accordance with their annual struggle for survival, they are obligated to play the usual holiday songs, over and over and over, but the victims soon are unable to help themselves from starting to really think about the lyrics.


In our era of heightened awareness, we are already scrutinizing the Dean Martin classic Baby It’s Cold Out There, which durn well does sound like some sleazeball has given his guest a date rape drug, which takes effect during the song, and that he or she has nefarious plans for him or her.


But consider the older more mainstream stuff, such as We Wish You a Merry Christmas.  Such an “innocent” start, with the greetings and well wishes, but oh how creepy it soon becomes, with that whole “figgy pudding” business.  The innocent mind of course assumes it refers so some mysterious food item perhaps made from literal “figs” but of course there are always inside meanings, the dog whistle stuff, and this one looks as suspicious as the line in Cold Outside “…say, what’s in this drink.”


If I had guests who started making requests for “figgy pudding” I would immediately start thinking of escape strategies.  I might start out with putting the dinner plates on the floor so the dog could lick them, then noting what a great dog you have found at the rescue shelter, does such a thorough job in cleaning the dishes!  One need not do anything more to them after Rover finishes.  Ready to server the “figgy pudding.”


But that next part, oh my goodness: We won’t go until we get some.  Some.  Get some.  They won’t go until they get some… what?  From the context, we might presume they want “some” of that suspicious-sounding “figgy pudding” but at this utterance, I might be resorting to faking a seizure and having the ambulance rescue me from these “figgy pudding” demanders.  


But really, it is your own damn fault.  Where did you meet these “figgy pudding” people?  In a singles bar?  Why do you trust them enough to have them in your home to start with?  Did you know about their orientation toward “figgy pudding” and did you check their arrest records, sex offender status or any of that?  NO!  You just brought the creepy weirdos over now they are all yours until you accidentally spill radioactive waste in your home or report that Rover the dishwasher has come back with a positive rabies result or something, and this is what you get!


But I digress.


Merry Newtonmas to all my friends on ExI!





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