By Jeff Mullin, columnist
Enid News and Eagle
ENID, Okla. —
It’s time once again for some good old Christmas carols, sort of.
This one is sung to the tune of 1955’s “I’m Gettin’ Nuttin’ for Christmas,” and is dedicated to the 113th Congress.
“We’re gettin’ nuttin’ for Christmas, ‘cause we ain’t been nuttin’ but bad.
“We let the government be shut down, somebody snitched on us, we acted like a bunch of clowns, somebody snitched on us, we didn’t pass a new farm bill, we didn’t follow the voters’ will, diddly squat got done on Capitol hill, somebody snitched on us.
“We’re gettin’ nuttin’ for Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. America are mad, we’re gettin’ nuttin’ for Christmas, ‘cause we ain’t been nuttin’ but bad.”
Nicely done, though somebody in the back row is a little flat. Now let’s try this one, to the tune of “Silver Bells,” and dedicated to the millions of aging Baby Boomers in this country.
“Silver hair, silver hair, weak eyes, bad knees and arthritis, silver hair, silver hair, aging is a pain in the, ah, joints.
“Don’t eat this, don’t eat that, take your statin each day, and don’t forget the pill for blood pressure, skin that sags, pain that nags, where did I put my keys? Turn the TV up so that I can hear.
“Silver hair, silver hair, I have low T, can’t see and have to frequently pee, silver hair, silver hair, what part of this is supposed to be fun?”
Let’s try that one again, but with some different words.
“Christmas bills, Christmas bills, I will be broke come the new year, Christmas bills, Christmas bills, I’m in debt up to my wallet.
“Playstation 4s and iPads, big-screen TVs for our dads, clothes and expensive jewels, there will be a fortune in stuff under our tree, phones and gift cards, books, watches, a new car in the door yard, now my credit is shot, and above all the bustle you hear.
“Creditors, creditors, all loudly demanding their money, I have none, I am done, I’ll have to file for bankruptcy.”
And now something a little more somber, more meaningful, to the tune of “It Came Upon A Midnight Clear.”
“He came upon a midnight clear, the guy breaking into my house, he ate my food and drank my beer, he stole all our presents, the louse.
“He took the tinsel, he swiped the tree, almost everything did he take, the only thing that he left behind was Aunt Mary’s two-year-old fruitcake.”
And another, more modern classic, this to the tune of “There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays.”
“Oh I hope I make it home for the holidays, but I’m mired in an endless checkout line, I’ve been stuck here for what feels like a couple days, I’m getting desperate and I’m running out of time.
“The cashier’s as slow as molasses and I’m about to croak, I’m dreaming of some homemade pumpkin pie, I’m stuck in this line behind some great big rotund bloke, who smells like he sleeps in a pig sty.
“Oh I pray I make it home for the holidays, I can’t leave without buying all this stuff, the line isn’t moving and I’m about to cry, nobody ever said Christmas should be this rough.”
Here’s a little something for the kiddies, sung to the tune of “Away in a Manger.”
“My waistline is growing, I can’t see my feet, every other gift I’ve received is something to eat, the cookies are tempting, hey is that chocolate cake, there’s candy and pudding, enough gravy to fill a lake.
“Dressing, cranberries and pie, if I eat more I will die, I must watch my diet, I must shun dessert, I should pass up the goodies, I should eat healthy stuff, but I’ll hurt people’s feelings if their food I rebuff.”
How about a nod to current events, sung to the tune of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”
“You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I’m telling you why, the NSA is coming to town.
“They’re making a list, they’re checking it twice, gonna find out who’s naughty and who needs to flee to Russia, the NSA is coming to town.
“They see you when you’re sleeping, they know when you’re awake, they listen to all your phone calls, this is real, it’s not a fake.
“With bugs and wiretaps and satellites in the sky, they even know when you’ve eaten too much pie, the NSA is coming to town.”
Now, who wants to join in a rousing rendition of “I saw Mommy Twerking Santa Claus?”
No, I thought not.
Mullin is senior writer of the News & Eagle. Email him at firstname.lastname@example.org.