Vince Vaughn update: The latest "Giant" has a note saying that Vince was dropped by his public relations firm, I/D PR, for "aggressive behaviour". Given the whoredom that public relations is, and the special brand of whoredom practiced by Hollywood public relations firms, as well as Vince's present stratospheric position, this raises one of two possibilities: either I/D PR is a legitimate enterprise with ethics and decency and, therefore, doomed to fail, or else Vince Vaughn has serious aggression issues to deal with. Why is it that the latter option seems more reasonable?
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A few words about Christmas songs - I'm not a fan. I can't say I hate them because that would just be a waste of good hate on something so inconsequential. But they are easily the most offensive part of a season that, frankly, has a lot about it that's offensive. (Although, in fairness, they are passed on an annual basis by temporary offences, like that idiotic piano-playing snowman that Hallmark is presently pushing, which my wife, of course, thought was adorable.) And while most animated Christmas specials are in fact more offensive on a purely aesthetic basis, those at least have the redeeming quality of keeping the kids occupied for 30 minutes or more while you tend to more important things like eating chocolate and getting drunk.
No, the problem with Christmas music is its unbearable repetitiveness. The repertoire is limited, but there are endless individual tracks because almost every musical act that has a moment of success feels compelled to add their warblings to the season's rotation. From a purely business sense, it's very practical; for many of these acts, long after Top 40 radio abandons them, they can count on a post-Christmas royalty cheque thanks to that version of "Little Drummer Boy" that they cut while snorting coke off a groupie's taut bottom. For someone such as myself, unfortunately, theirs will be one of 83 versions of said song that I will hear this season, each not much different from the others. And I never cared for the song in the first place.
My wife, suffice it to say, loves Christmas music, and started playing it this past Wednesday, almost one month before Christmas eve. It's the earliest start ever, meaning I'm almost certain to crack up by the 15th of December or so. By then, I'll be looking for that groupie myself.
Not to say that there aren't some genuinely good Christmas songs. Off the top of my head I can name a few: John Mellencamp's version of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus", Elvis' "Blue Christmas", the campily fun "Jingle Bell Rock" from Hall & Oates. Plus, the two greatest holiday songs ever: Bruce Springsteen's "Santa Claus is Coming to Town", and "Christmas in Hollis" from Run DMC. The BareNaked Ladies had a decent tune in that execrable Grinch movie, and the first "A Very Special Christmas" album was mostly tolerable. The crowd thins after that, and anyone who proposes Bowie's slumming with Crosby will be shot on sight.
But there is one genuinely great Christmas album out there: Mariah Carey's "Merry Christmas". I haven't actually listened to it, and don't intend to. I have never liked Mariah Carey's singing (an ex described her in the early stages of her career as a screaming mimi, whatever that is) and don't expect that to change. And although she is obviously a good-looking young lady, I personally never found her attractive, until recently. Mariah always had a great body, but there was/is an unnatural spacing between her breasts suggestive of either faulty DNA or actionable surgery. And then she went from innocent howler to dancing sex kitten, which I never bought into. But then she went crazy. And man, did that get me interested. Let's face it - a beautiful girl is nice, but if she's crazy and beautiful it raises new possibilities. Crazy girls are a lot more fun, even if they tend to leave you broke and alone in a foreign country. With no regrets.
So I have reconsidered Mariah's charms, and decided, on further inspection, that the cover of her "Merry Christmas" album is one of the greatest photographs ever taken. It makes me understand that even Christmas music can have value, if only for the album jacket and nothing else. It also makes it clear why Santa Claus might gladly choose to spend his life on the frozen tundra surrounded by Billy Barty clones. For that, and for crazy Mariah, I am thankful.
* * * * *
A few words about Christmas songs - I'm not a fan. I can't say I hate them because that would just be a waste of good hate on something so inconsequential. But they are easily the most offensive part of a season that, frankly, has a lot about it that's offensive. (Although, in fairness, they are passed on an annual basis by temporary offences, like that idiotic piano-playing snowman that Hallmark is presently pushing, which my wife, of course, thought was adorable.) And while most animated Christmas specials are in fact more offensive on a purely aesthetic basis, those at least have the redeeming quality of keeping the kids occupied for 30 minutes or more while you tend to more important things like eating chocolate and getting drunk.
No, the problem with Christmas music is its unbearable repetitiveness. The repertoire is limited, but there are endless individual tracks because almost every musical act that has a moment of success feels compelled to add their warblings to the season's rotation. From a purely business sense, it's very practical; for many of these acts, long after Top 40 radio abandons them, they can count on a post-Christmas royalty cheque thanks to that version of "Little Drummer Boy" that they cut while snorting coke off a groupie's taut bottom. For someone such as myself, unfortunately, theirs will be one of 83 versions of said song that I will hear this season, each not much different from the others. And I never cared for the song in the first place.
My wife, suffice it to say, loves Christmas music, and started playing it this past Wednesday, almost one month before Christmas eve. It's the earliest start ever, meaning I'm almost certain to crack up by the 15th of December or so. By then, I'll be looking for that groupie myself.
Not to say that there aren't some genuinely good Christmas songs. Off the top of my head I can name a few: John Mellencamp's version of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus", Elvis' "Blue Christmas", the campily fun "Jingle Bell Rock" from Hall & Oates. Plus, the two greatest holiday songs ever: Bruce Springsteen's "Santa Claus is Coming to Town", and "Christmas in Hollis" from Run DMC. The BareNaked Ladies had a decent tune in that execrable Grinch movie, and the first "A Very Special Christmas" album was mostly tolerable. The crowd thins after that, and anyone who proposes Bowie's slumming with Crosby will be shot on sight.
But there is one genuinely great Christmas album out there: Mariah Carey's "Merry Christmas". I haven't actually listened to it, and don't intend to. I have never liked Mariah Carey's singing (an ex described her in the early stages of her career as a screaming mimi, whatever that is) and don't expect that to change. And although she is obviously a good-looking young lady, I personally never found her attractive, until recently. Mariah always had a great body, but there was/is an unnatural spacing between her breasts suggestive of either faulty DNA or actionable surgery. And then she went from innocent howler to dancing sex kitten, which I never bought into. But then she went crazy. And man, did that get me interested. Let's face it - a beautiful girl is nice, but if she's crazy and beautiful it raises new possibilities. Crazy girls are a lot more fun, even if they tend to leave you broke and alone in a foreign country. With no regrets.
So I have reconsidered Mariah's charms, and decided, on further inspection, that the cover of her "Merry Christmas" album is one of the greatest photographs ever taken. It makes me understand that even Christmas music can have value, if only for the album jacket and nothing else. It also makes it clear why Santa Claus might gladly choose to spend his life on the frozen tundra surrounded by Billy Barty clones. For that, and for crazy Mariah, I am thankful.
posted by George @ 9:05 p.m.
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