We Interrupt the Endless Looping of Insipidly Produced and Performed Christmas Music . . .

The other evening my beloved and I were chased out of a near north side restaurant by the endless looping ( Sirius XM) of Kenny G quality Holiday Tunes. Pan Fluted " Winter Wonderlands." Soprano Sax'd "Oh, Little Town of Bethlehams." and any version of "Little Drummer Boy" are toxic to the soul and an affront to quality of life.

It is not Christmas Music that is bad; rather, it is the selections looped and presented. More so, it is the wicked and smarmy imposition of these very bad productions by people who actually believe that one and all are charmed by their control of the atmosphere that is intrinsically pernicious.

Therefore, to gas station managers, mall directors, restaurateurs and secularists everywhere, give it a rest. In the spirit of Christmas giving may I offer this comely and well-stated ballad.



Merry Christmas and do sing along with this carol of sense and sensibility - Kenny G, my broad manly arse.

Left,Left,Left,Right ,Left


Husslers shootin' eightball
Throwin' darts at the wall
Feelin' damn near 10 ft. tall
Here she comes, Lord help us all
Old T.W.'s girlfriend done slapped him out his chair
Poor ole boy, it ain't his fault
It's so hard not to stare
At (Miranda's)honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And ooo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how she even get them britches on with that
That honky tonk badonkadonk
(Aww son)

Now Honey, you can't blame her
For what her mama gave her
It ain't right to hate her
For workin' that money-maker
Band shuts down at two
But we're hangin' out till three
We hate to see her go
But love to watch her leave
With that honky tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And ooo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how she even get them britches on
With that honky tonk badonkadonk
(Ooh, that's what I'm talkin' bout right there honey)

We don't care bout the drinkin'
Barely listen to the band
Our hands, they start a shakin'
When she gets the urge to dance
Drivin' everybody crazy
You think you fell in love
Boys, you better keep your distance
You can look but you can't touch
That honkey tonk badonkadonk
Keepin' perfect rhythm
Make ya wanna swing along
Got it goin' on
Like Donkey Kong
And ooo-wee
Shut my mouth, slap your grandma
There outta be a law
Get the Sheriff on the phone
Lord have mercy, how she even get them britches on with that
That honky tonk badonkadonk

That honky tonk badonkadonk
Yeah, that honky tonk badonkadonk
That honky tonk badonkadonk


(That's it, boys, that's why we do what we do
It ain't for the money, it ain't for the glory, it ain't for the free whiskey, its for the badonkadonk)