My hairdresser and I think that more suicides occur during the holiday season because of the bombardment, like the Chinese torture of dripping water on your forehead, of the same old Christmas music.


Over

and

over

again

world


without


end.



(Please, isn't it blood-curdling scream time yet? Oh yeah, that was Wednesday but I didn't. You would have been proud of me).

Before you start calling be Ebeneezer I don't mind it in the approriate setting: church on Christmas Eve, coming from the mouths of carolers at the mall, while trimming the tree, at the proverbial yuletide party.


Not at the grocery store or the aisles at Wal-Mart, not in the chair at the beauty parlor or helpless, under the dentist's drill, not blasting through the phone as you are put on hold by the Fond du Lac School District, or AT & T or Charter Cable or any other buyer into Muzak or Sunny 97s cheerful but Stepford parade of holiday favorites.

I do realize I am not worthy of Johnny Mathis' "Oh Holy Night" (shivers) or Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" (sniffle) but damn, it if I am put on hold and have to listen to Alvin and the Chipmunks or Felice Navidad one more time.........