Maybe I’m wired backwards.
But when it gets into late December, and I still haven’t quite found the Christmas spirit, I turn to music.
Not the crap that’s been playing on the easy listening station since December 1.
That stuff leaves me cold.
The only sure way to make it happen is to listen to what is arguably the most depressing Christmas song ever sung, “Fairytale of New York.”
It’s the heartwarming tale of two Irish immigrants, alcoholism, heroin addiction, and incarceration on Christmas Eve.
It’s a Christmas song that involves the words arse, slut and faggot.
And because I love it so much, because it makes me feel like nearly nothing else seasonal does, I just assume everyone else knows it, too.
As I cued it up on YouTube, the husband looks over, says “What are you listening to?”
“‘Fairytale of New York’. You didn’t recognize it?’
“Never heard it.”
“I….what….you’ve heard it…I mean, it’s…how could you not….Pogues….HOW ARE WE EVEN MARRIED???? ”
So no, not everyone has heard it.
And until everyone has, and loves it as much as I do, I’m going to keep flogging it, mercilessly.
If you’ve never heard it, consider it my gift to you.
And if you have, revel in the awesome, once again.