The only way I can deal with the annual onslaught of cheery and/or solemn Christmas songs is to make up filthy, raucous versions of them and make those the official hymns of the season.
It’s painfully immature, for sure, but it helps cut through the cheap sentiment and relentless faux glee that threaten to pollute our lives for a month or so while we stuff our feelings by stuffing our stockings.
“I’m dreaming of a tight Christmas/Just like the snatch I used to know”
“I saw daddy felching Santa Claus…”
“All I want for Christmas are my two front tits…”
“In the meadow, we can blow a snowman…”
Help me out here, folks. Help me spread some more smutty cheer!
(PS: This post is dedicated to the salty duo the Duelling Bankheads, who just performed at Van Dam with their holiday classics “Frosty the Coke Whore” and “Here Comes Menopause.”)
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on December 21, 2010