A Mellowmas Prelude: He Who Mell’t It Dealt It
What happened to us?
This is the question we ask ourselves every year, right around this time. As this dreaded holiday turns seven years old (which, maturity-wise, is pretty much accurate), we take yet another opportunity for a good, long stare in the Mellowmas mirror, and we point a finger at ourselves and ask, “What in McD‘s holy name is wrong with us? What happened that forces us to continue torturing ourselves, year after year after year (after year after year after year)?”
Have a seat, won’t you? We want to tell you a story.
You see, when Mellowmas started, it was all so innocent. There was Air Supply and Andrew Gold, both reveling in holiday-themed wussitude. There were 12 days. Our chats took us about 20 minutes. And we started them in November.
Now? There’s Menudo, the Singing Saw, and something called a “Leighton Meester.” There’s always a goddamn version of “Last Christmas.” There are 25 oh-God-will-this-ever-be-over days. We talk for hours about every song (okay, it’s twenty minutes of talking and forty minutes of stunned silence). We start in AUGUST and our wives now hate us for a solid four months instead of the usual one.
The music changes. But it doesn’t, really. We still hear the current artists hoping for a cash-in (we see you, She & Him!), the anything-but-current artists releasing things on CD-R (oh hi, Genie Francis, say hi to your brothers for us!), and the ones that just make no sense whatsoever (Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta, what the fuck are you thinking?). And, of course, Wing. Oh, Wing, we think we love you and your festive helicopter most of all.
We rub our hands together in glee, do leprechaun dances, and then quietly sob ourselves to sleep, only to wake up filled with snot and regret and a sick compulsion to repeat it all the next day.
What happened to us?
Alan O’Day happened to us:
Ted Asregadoo happened to us:
Robin Gibb and Stevie Nicks, “Silent Night, Hellish Night” (download)
Terje Fjelde happened to us, like, six times (which, coincidentally, is the same amount of times we got chlamydia from Annie‘s mother):
And, most importantly, you happened to us. You encouraged us. You egged us on. YOU SENT US AWFUL MUSIC VIA OUR E-MAIL ADDRESSES, WHICH WE NOW WISH WE HAD NEVER GIVEN YOU.
So we hope you’re happy. This holiday is all your fault. And trust us, dear readers, we’re going to do all we can to repay you.
You might want to add some extra brandy to that eggnog, folks. Mellowmas begins tomorrow.