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: