I was out at the mall today buying some stuff and and heard Bing Crosby singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” over the intercom speakers and, being in a good mood that I was, listened very closely to the lyrics. If you take them literally the lyrics make the singer sound like a tool. There isn’t any mention of ‘please’ at all. Think of it this way – carolers are singing outside of someone’s house….
“We wish you a Merry Christmas;
We wish you a Merry Christmas;
We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!”
“Wow, thanks guys. Merry Christmas to you too.”
“Now bring us some figgy pudding.”
“Okay, have a good night. Stay warm!”
“No, bring us some figgy pudding.”
“Figgy pudding?”
“Yes. Figgy pudding. Now. We won’t go until we get some.”
“Stop it. Leave.”
“No.”
“I don’t have any figgy pudding. What the hell is figgy pudding?”
“We won’t go until we get some.”
“Why?”
“Because. We love figgy pudding.”
“I DON’T HAVE ANY DAMN FIGGY PUDDING.”
“What the hell, dude? We caroled for you. Now bring us some figgy pudding. Bring some right here.”
“Get it yourself. I don’t have any figgy pudding.”
“We won’t go until we get some.”
“People, leave! Now! No figgy pudding here! Not going to be any either!”
“We’re not leaving.”
“Get the hell out of here! I don’t have any figgy pudding.”
“Ok, bring us a figgy pudding and a cup of good cheer then.”
“Dude, I’m going to show you some good cheer in a few minutes. Let me get my .12 gauge of good cheer for you.”

When I was a kid I loved Halloween, loved dressing up, loved trick-or-treating, loved going out in the dark with my dad and ringing doorbells. It was a wholesome altruistic holiday that I loved and I would try to stretch my candy out as long as I could. Some of it got old, but it was procured honestly, and for that it was all the more wonderful. Then I got older and I didn’t go trick-or-treating anymore. I stopped, because it was a kiddie thing and I was all grown up, you know. I hated hated the kids that would trick-or-treat when they were 16 and 17 years old. It was pathetic and lame, especially when they didn’t even dress up. I never opened the door for teenagers. I didn’t buy candy for teens, I bought it for the little kids who were out for the fun of it.
We remembered all of the soldiers who died keeping our country free by doing what millions of other red-blooded Americans were doing – taking advantage of some of the Memorial Day sales. We found towels galore, enough to sop up bullet wounds, and sheets, enough sheets to create slings for wounded soldiers. See how patriotic we are? We’re keeping the American economy going, by gum. Anyway, we got some rainbow sheets for Noah’s bed, and when in tandem with his monkey quilt, make a nice ensemble. Noah, upon seeing said sheets upon said bed, blurted out -