Listening to carols on the radio this morning it occurred to me that so many of our very favorite versions of timeless yuletide classics are rendered by people no longer with us. Consider. Bing Crosby (White Christmas), dead on a golf course. Elvis Presley (Blue Christmas), dead on the toilet. Burl Ives (Holly Jolly Christmas), just dead. And the Chipmunks (The Christmas Song): Simon, dead of a heroin overdose; Theodore, cut down by gunfire in Las Vegas; and Alvin, eaten by Dick Clark's cat. Hearing them sing these favorites, you just have to pause halfway through Target and wonder.
By the way, the fact that we have a "White Chrismas" and a "Blue Christmas" raises the question of why no one has recorded a "Red (blooded/neck/state) Christmas." Somebody out there, get on this.
We are a fantasy baseball league whose draft is scheduled for May 1. Ten men enter (or nine or eight), and one man leaves.
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1 comment:
Well and good, but the absence that amazes me -- really amazes me -- is the fact no one has ever done a music video to the tune of "The Little Drummer Boy" called "The Little Stripper Girl" with the phrase "shaking my bum" substituted for "on my drum." Because of the provenance of the word "bum," it would have to be British in origin and thus pretty classy, by default.
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