The 1944 Frank Loesser-written, Oscar-winning song “Baby It’s Cold Outside” has finally been outed by the #MeToo-loyal for the obvious date-rape anthem that it was intended to be. Clearly, this god-awful tune, crooned by several He-Man woman haters from throughout the 20th century including Dean Martin, Ricardo Montalban, Louis Armstrong, Ray Charles, Barry Manilow, Eddie Fisher (Princess Leia’s dad… can you imagine the dichotomy on this one???), Sammy Davis Jr… and who can forget that Satan-summoning duet version belted out by Idina Menzel and Michael Buble a few years ago?
Nevermind the context, the era, the underlying gender-norms from more than 70 years ago when the song was written. “Baby,” whose score labels the female voice as “Mouse” and the male voice as “Wolf,” was long overdue from offending someone; thus, none of us ever get to hear it again, without dancing through the Dark Web like an overpaid teen actor superimposed into the CGI Upside-Down.
And I– I couldn’t be happier about this. After all, “Baby” was featured in a 1949 film about a creepy guy who owns a swimsuit company… and it was the same year that the Rodgers and Hammerstein released South Pacific, and everyone knows “There is Nothing Like a Dame” was written solely to objectify Millenial females seven decades later.
But before this gets too off-topic, let me clearly state: all Christmas music should be immediately banned, due to its ability…nay, it’s intended purpose… to offend, to divide, to marginalize.
Don’t believe me, eh? Consider the following cogent examples of lyrics from popular Christmas music, that have been freely aired on terrestrial and satellite radio since just after Independence Day each year, sung by carolers, delivered at Holiday school pageants (do not call them Christmas pageants, please), and piped-in to every retail establishment in the free world… then tell me that these should not be added to the trash heap along with “Baby It’s Cold Outside.”
Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose
And if you ever saw it, You would even say “It glows”
All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names
They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games…
This endearing song features an unemployed, socioeconomically disadvantaged Cervid, with a craneofacial disfigurement so conspicuous, that even the casual passerby, says the author, would be compelled to comment negatively on its appearance. Sorry, Auggie Pullman generation, the Wonder kid never had it this bad. The song continues to celebrate the incessant onslaught of bullying, name calling, and intentional isolation wrought by the other reindeer. Rudolph endures this repeated behavior, a complete imbalance of power, and submits to his oppressors’ regular attacks with nary an advocate to support him. Santa elects not to intervene until he needs something from Rudolph. #StopBullyingNow
Depressed, beaten emotionally, and reduced to a veritable ruminant doormat, Rudolph jumps at the opportunity to connect with others, even in a demeaning and subservient manner, lashed with leather reins made from his own dead ancestors, demonstrating no self-identity or a shred of dignity. Once Rudolph’s utility is acknowledged by the supreme leader of the North Pole, the other reindeer “love him,” suggesting that his place in the annuls of history has been established, when all he wanted was a friend. Santa’s dictatorship is clear in this parable. Think Kim Jong Un, in a fuzzy red suit, whose value of Rudolph for his ability to serve his master assigns him status among the other subjects.
Ban this horrific glorification of tyranny, bullying, labor exploitation, and animal abuse once and for all.
Frosty the Snowman
Frosty the Snowman was a jolly happy soul
With a corncob pipe, and a button nose, and two eyes made out of coal…
A demonically-possessed creature made entirely out of cocaine and named after beer anthropomorphizes into a smoking, insubordinate petty criminal, after being crowned with a silk hat likely lost by a local pimp. With eyes torn from the earth as fossil fuels, Frosty leads a group of children to delinquency, truancy, receiving stolen property, unlawful assembly, jaywalking, resisting arrest, heartbreak, and ultimately, years of therapy as they watch their beloved crystalline pied piper melt before their young eyes as they are taken into custody and placed in underfunded corrupt state foster care facilities.
Like Christ, the Terminator, Vigo the Carpathian, and the first four Freddy Kruegers, his dying vow is “I’ll be back.”
He hasn’t come back. No, that shitty Claymation sequel in the 80s doesn’t count.
Get rid of this corpulent coca-creep once and for all, and save children everywhere the horror.
Jingle Bells
Dashing through the snow
In a one-horse open sleigh
O’er the fields we go
Laughing all the way
Bells on bobtails ring
Making spirits bright
What fun it is to ride and sing
A sleighing song tonight
… A day or two ago
I thought I’d take a ride
And soon Miss Fanny Bright
Was seated by my side.
The horse was lean and lank
Misfortune seemed his lot
He got into a drifted bank
And then we got upsot.
Where to begin? After a solid session of day-drinking, some idiot Neanderthal hitches up his horse in sub-freezing temperatures, and takes his sleigh on a drunken joyride o’er fields with a complete disregard for existing roadways or private property rights, laughing maniacally all the while.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, this typical male who clearly thinks his vehicle will get him laid, recounts similar behavior a few days previous, during which he refers to a woman as nothing more than her illuminated buttocks. While it doesn’t say it in the song, he probably beats her. Tragedy ensues when the man acknowledges the poor quality of his horse and a premonition of disaster, but continues on anyway with the hapless young lady, until they suffer a horrific crash and are killed instantly. The horse likely died of hypothermia and exhaustion.
Cue Sarah McLachlan “In the Arms of an Angel.” This song about a typical male drunken bastard endangering his girlfriend and his abused horse, and ultimately killing them both in an alcohol-related traffic double fatality must never be heard again.
… and it continues in song, after song, after song. Sure, don we now our gay apparel might have had a slightly different meaning many years ago when it was written, but as long as were going to judge the body of musical composition throughout history by 2018 #Standards, am I to sit here and believe that such a thing as “gay apparel” exists? As if wearing a certain brand or garment has any bearing on the sexuality of the wearer? Not in my everyone-has-a-right-to-be-easily-offended world, Mildred!
No more endorsing the exploitation of African fauna for the illegal pet trade with I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas. No more attribution of Mele Kalikimaka to the indigenous people of the Hawaiian islands in some sort of false proselytization of Christian beliefs. No more folks dressed up like Eskimos, to spare Inuit people discomfort, no more wishes for two front teeth, lest we offend the dentally-challenged.
And don’t even get me started on it came upon a midnight clear… sounds like a trip to the urologist is an order for that one.
Anyway, I am all for banning all of this nonsensical whimsy Christmas music once and for all. After all, our children are listening, and rather than give them the ability to think critically, it is up to us to ensure they understand the vital importance of sanitizing everything for everyone all the time.
El Gigante Picante del Monte 