Happy Happy Joy Joy

Okay, out with the snark of creepy plastic peeping elves and in with the true meaning of Christmas: carols with just the right touch of snark, self-deprecation, levity and irony. First, the Roches do the Brooklyn honors.  Or maybe it's De Bronx. Whatevah.

 

And what would the Decade of Extreme Income Inequality be without indulging in a little feudalism nostalgia? Let's all go a-Wassailing from here to Twelfth Night and beyond, to demand our share of the wealth. We definitely aren't going to wait around for any of that phony Trickle Down. Read these lyrics and see if they don't sarcastically but politely demand a living wage, food stamp and unemployment insurance restoration and universal health care:

 

We are not daily beggars That beg from door to door;

But we are neighbours' children, Whom you have seen before.

We have got a little purse Of stretching leather skin;

We want a little of your money To line it well within.

 

Bring us out a table And spread it with a cloth;

Bring us out a mouldy cheese, And some of your Christmas loaf.

 

Good master and good mistress, While you're sitting by the fire,

Pray think of us poor children Who are wandering in the mire.

 

You can listen to a nice version here, minus the threatening tone I would sing it in if I could sing. The thought of wandering in the muck with a belly full of discarded rancid cheese is starting to make me irate, truth be told.

 

So let's move on. I think my favorite all-time tune has got to be this anti-war classic by John McCutcheon: Christmas in the Trenches.

 

Here's wishing all of you peace and good health no matter how you celebrate, what you celebrate, or even if you celebrate.