It Begins

It's official, my wife is ready for Christmas already.  This morning, she came up behind me, hugged me, and sang, "He's really a victim of fear and of pride, Look close and there must be a sweet man inside... NAH!"  At first I was a little hurt, I didn't know what she was singing and thought, "wow, well if that's really what you think of me..."  Then she went on giddily singing, "There goes mister humbug, there goes mister Grim!"  And then she said the Muppet Christmas Carol had been in her head all morning...

If you've read my previous posts you know that I have beef with Christmas in America, and especially with Christmas music (though I really don't have a prob with The Muppet Christmas Carol, it's delightful... I would say all year round).  To say the least, Christmas, and its music, has been the main source of light hearted strain between my wife and me.  I can't stand it, and she loves it, as early as she thinks she can listen to it (though she'll argue that it's only after Thanksgiving, this morning proves otherwise).

We have discussed my feelings about Christmas several times, and I usually bring up that the "Christmas Tree" was really part of the Pagan holiday Saturnalia, and that evergreens were brought in to collect the spirits of dying plants, it had nothing to do with the everlasting life of Jesus.  I then explain that Constantine was really the ruler who decided he wanted Christians to get along with Pagans and mixed the two religions by saying that Christ's birthday was near the winter solstice.  She always gets really mad at me.  :)  I then say that I won't have a Christmas Tree in our house, but a picture of Jesus, to help us remember why we celebrate this time of year (no matter how inaccurate it is).  That makes her more mad.  Now, I know that we will have a tree because my wife wants one and husbands have little to no say of what happens concerning holiday decorations, but it sure is fun to mess with her.



My Theme Music:

When a cold wind blows it chills you
Chills you to the bone
But there's nothing in nature that freezes your heart
Like years of being alone

It paints you with indifference
Like a lady paints with rouge
And the worst of the worst, the most hated and cursed
Is the one that we call Scrooge
Unkind as any, and the wrath of many
This is Ebenezer Scrooge

Oh, there goes Mr. Humbug
There goes Mr. Grim
If they gave a prize for being mean
The winner would be him
Old Scrooge, he loves his money
Cause he thinks it gives him power
If he became a flavour you can bet he would be sour

There goes Mr. Skinflint
There goes Mr. Greed
The undisputed master of the underhanded deed
He charges folks a fortune for his dark and drafty houses
Us poor folk live in misery
It's even worse for mouses
(Please sir, I want some cheese)

He must be so lonely, he must be so sad
He goes to extremes to convince us he's bad
He's really a victim of fear and of pride
Look close and there must be a sweet man inside
(Nah . . . uh uh)

There goes Mr. Outrage
There goes Mr. Sneer
He has no time for friends or fun
His anger makes that clear
Don't ask him for a favour cause his nastiness increases
No crust of bread for those in need
No cheeses for us meeces

There goes Mr. Heartless
There goes Mr. Cruel
He never gives, he only takes
He lets his anger rule
If being mean's a way of life you practice and rehearse
Then all that work is paying off, cause Scrooge is getting worse
Every day in every way
Scrooge is getting worse