Trolling Your Yuletide – a poem by Wolfman Dave


LET’TH GET THITH PAHTY THTAHTED! Uh, I’ve been drinking a lot…
[cheers] and when I’m drunk I get very intellectual, and also quite angry.
[boo] You can tell by the tone of my voice that I’m a raging inferno of emotion. And I wrote a little poem for it… This is my professional peanut gallery, I’d like you to give them a hand… Yes.
[Mac]: No, literally, we take hands. Please give them to us. Yes, they’re big on the dismemberment circuit. This is a little piece that I have entitled, “Trolling Your Yuletide”. This the week before Christmas, and all through the house I just can’t get excited, I just bitch, moan and grouse the stockings are hung o’er the fireplace
ash, representing significant losses of cash the flesh is unwilling, the spirit gets rough as we do lots of driving and buy tons of stuff we spend cash we don’t have on things we don’t need, indulging consumerist holiday greed I can’t fathom how Christmas got so awfully queer: we had Black Friday on Thursday this year The year’s shopping season just gets earlier
still with the stunning new savings setting shoppers to kill! They keep bumping the date back to the point that I
think that one day “Christmas Season” will begin in July I think this whole planet is sick in the head
they way we spend all this green to end up in the red It’s about Black Friday and Cyber Mondays
it’s about door-buster savings and time-and-a-half workdays it’s not about love, it’s about free gift wrap
it’s not about family, it’s about buying up crap What happened to holly bedecking the hall?
It can wait: I HAVE TO FIND A TURBOMAN DOLL! It’s blackmail, the exchange of Christmas gift lists that they hold over my head, like OTHER gestures I’ve missed it’s a common complaint heard in my family:
“It’s the season of giving, so what are YOU giving ME?” No, I’ll stay Home Alone and pop a few corks
and drink heartily while they get Lost in New York You might say it’s not Christmas without family around
but it seems that Love, Actually, has been run into the ground. And I can take holiday traffic like it ain’t no big thing,
But the songs on the radio that they sing, sing, SING, SING! “Sing Noel! Sing Noel!” Baby Jesus born on a cold winter’s night! Uh, you know it was the desert and it was in springtime, right? And it was back in a time when living was cheap for both kings and for shepherds… and a few dozen sheep. Baby JESUS, though, baby it’s cold outside
but nip into this drink and we’ll take a sleigh ride And I don’t mean with reindeer, I mean in my love shack
So slide down Santa’s chimney and open Santa’s sack! [inappropriate appreciation of smut] No, there’s not much tail this time of year, and hardly any head
I think it’s because at Xmas dinner, all the coats are on the bed Anyway, I’m done with Little Drummer Boy and Jingle Bells
I’m done with Santa Baby and all those auditory hells I’m done with Whos in Whoville, in that economic sprawl
Who walk right past Hoovervilles where they’ve got nothing at all Sure, you call me a cynic, just a mad, hateful… STOOGE…. but there’s a name for guys like me, and it is? [incorrect guess] HUGE ASSHOLE! HUUUUGE! bananas (???) I’m tired of the music and the traffic and the guests
And the tokens of affection that end up some kind of test I even hate the weather and can’t wait for it to go
I’ve had it with the mall Santa not laughing, SAYING “ho ho ho.” I’m up to HERE with Christmas, and let me tell you, jack:
Once I ditch this time of year I’m never looking back Cuz I feel like Charlie Brown when I look skyward and I shout,
“Isn’t there anyone who can tell me what Christmas is all about?” I tried to look for answers, but didn’t get very far,
Because instead of searching in my heart… I went searching in a bar.
[joyful encouragement of my alcoholism] A craft beer fixes anything, if you know what I mean;
If you haven’t got the picture, ask Sean and Arelene. I came to get a proper drunk… [success] I came to get a proper drunk, when to my wondering eyes appear:
With Christmas storybooks in hand, it turns out my friends are here. They’re here with a reminder that the season’s not unkind
That Christmas isn’t such a drag with the right frame of mind. ‘Tis the season to be folly, so let the tellers ply their craft
And if they can’t fix my attitude, they at least can make you laugh Perhaps all you can ask for are some beers and tales to read
and, so long as we’re together, that’s all the cheer we need. So put on your Santa hat and ready yourself for a sleigh ride
Because we won’t be tolling carols, we’ll be Trolling Your Yuletide. And so we start our little show, it’s time to dim the lights
And bid a Merry Christmas to all, and to all, enjoy this night!

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