Christmas in the Village

Well, Christmas is over, and a new year is headed in our general direction.

This year the folks in the Village had a bit of a hard time planning their Christmas celebration.  Many voices called for a singalong around a giant Christmas tree, with toys, and food, and ...

"And a big, green, hairy curmudgeon staring down from a clifftop mumbling in rhyme about how much he hates Christmas?" one voice demanded.  Many others quickly agreed.  "Too Dr. Seuss-y," they cried.  In the end, though, the singalong was canceled, not entirely because of these objections, but also because no one could agree on the lyrics to this song:



The top contenders were "Baboon chorus,"  "Cancun florist," and "Rangoon forest."  Have you ever noticed that no matter how you spell baboon, it never - and I mean never! - looks right?

One group called for pageantry and Santa Claus and eggnog.  In response, one group played Weezer ...



For a bunch of people who live in a head, you'd think they could be more imaginative.  How about relaxing on comfy lawn furniture scattered around the rim of a black hole, and sipping mimosas while watching the universe pour through the event horizon?  Do I have to come up with everything????

A safari?  They'd probably immediately start thinking about Africa.  Elephants.  Guns or cameras.  Nothing wrong with that, just a whole lot that isn't quite right.  Not for residents of a psycho-village.  I'm thinking about a safari to the bottom of an alien ocean.  Or even a terrestrial one.  Trophies?  Pictures?  Bah!  Humbug!  Every bizarre creature you see, you become, for as long as you like, swim-flying freely about in the depths.  Or rocketing upward to burst through the waves into the air for a magical moment before falling back again.

Visions of sugar plums ... really?  How about stockings from whose open tops burst waterfall sprays of flowers in unnameable colors, that taste like lime, coconut, chili and chocolate, in ever-evolving combinations?

A jolly old elf in a sleigh pulled by tiny, magical, flying reindeer?  Pffft!  What about ... ... ... ... actually, you know, that's pretty good just like it is.  Santa's in.  But maybe the reindeer need to spark trails of technicolor flame from their little hooves as they gallop through the sky.

Well, it's a good thing I stepped in, because after all their planning and arguing and head-scratching (theirs, thankfully, not the inside of mine) they were all just settling down for a long winter's snore-fest.  To be followed by a 100-accordion salute to Christmas polka tunes.



Instead, I leave you, my dear readers, with this lovely parting tune from those sweet ladies of Shonen Knife:

Garrison Keillor I ain't ...

Once again my fan has contacted me, mourning my negligent lack of output around here.  So, before the Village residents sponsor a polka tournament in my head, I thought I should drop a few thoughts.

First, I'm sure everyone has seen those license-plate holders that say, "My other car is ... "

I think the first ones said " ... a Cadillac."  Of course, no one who actually owned a Cadillac ever displayed such a saying.  However, I used to work for some guys who made a bit of money in the oil business, and one of them owned a Rolls.  His company car was a Cadillac.  So, for his birthday, his partners mounted the classic "My other car is a Cadillac" license-plate holder on his Rolls.

Over the years, of course, variations have appeared - "My other car is worse than this one,"  and "My other car is an F-16,"  for instance.

This morning I saw one that said, "My other pancreas is battery-powered."  Yeah.  I don't know what the hell to do with that.  No idea at all.  "My other pancreas is battery-powered."

No segue possible.  Take a look at this YouTube video of the sun:



Am I the only one who has the creepy feeling that I'm trapped in a sort of alternate reality where Tim Burton hosts A Prairie Home Companion?


And finally, to close our show today, here's a little Christmas wish from the jolly little elves of Apocalyptica:




Please tune in next time ... whenever that is ... when our guests will be ... whoever they are ...

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