Okay, kiddies. It has come to my attention that Sean Hannity, Bill O’Reilly, and the rest of the talking human waste over at Fox have taken to undermining this great holiday of ours known as Christmas. How, you may ask, were they able to do such a deplorable thing, and all the stupid while directly beneath our extrasensitive liberal noses? I’ll tell you. Starting just after Thanksgiving (or possibly even before it) O’Reilly began shrieking at the top of his girlish little lungs about how the “secularists,” whoever they are, had declared a fiendish war on Christmas. It even became known as the (capital ‘W’) “War on Christmas,” and the insignificant motto decorated several inelegant cut-aways. This is something that no God-fearing secularist I know of has had anything to do with, believe you me. Still, the little pack of pansies were delighted to ruin everybody’s holiday cheer, screaming impotently about how everyone—ANYONE AT ALL—is trying to take the Christ out of just about everything that means anything to Christians, including the holidays. How’s that for a twist? For a time many on the left were resisting the urge to explode, appearing on various “news” broadcasts and talk shows to discuss how they know of no one who objects to being told “merry Christmas.” Oh, I’m sorry. Was I supposed to capitalize “merry,” as well? I might’ve known. But then, unthinkably, the unexpected happened. Santa Claus, the jolly old philanthropist born to a virgin and the unmistakable symbol and soul of Christmas, was kidnapped and tortured to death by Islamic extremists just after midnight. Call them “militant Jihadists” if you like. Our president says it’s okay. So, they want a War on Christmas? I say we give ‘em one! C’mon, you leftist bastards. Give those Fox douchebags the best damned War you’ve got. Tell them where to stick their dogmatic pseudo-antisecularism, and what not  to let the door do to their asses when they leave. Bring it on. Anyway, here are a few songs that have absolutely nothing at all to do with Christmas, some of which may be considered offensive by many people, but that a few of you may nonetheless enjoy. 5 Songs Not to Play at Christmastime Unless You Decide to Kill Yourself and Everyone You Love, Part 1.

1. Kinky Friedman - “They Ain’t Makin’ Jews Like Jesus Anymore”

  Here we have the next and greatest governor of Texas. As many of you know, I’m a proud native of the Lone Star State, and I can eat a giant steak in under twenty seven minutes to prove it. But Kinky Friedman is a special kind of Texan. One born in Chicago. Also, one who likes to piss people off, but who is a seemingly good-natured weirdo. Yes, the Kinkster is running for governor, and I can’t think of another person I’d rather see talking to congressmen about education reform. As the leader of the Texas Jewboys, Kinky found an audience who could appreciate his sarcasm. He then exploited that audience with a string of detective novels. Kinky is committed to ending what he refers to as the “dewussification” of Texas, and I’ll re-assassinate Treaty Oak if he succeeds. Anyway, I know this song has something to do with Jesus, but Jesus has nothing to do with the holidays.

2. Esrevnoc - “Bee Charmer”

  Ah, Esrevnoc. Only the greatest pop group in history. Yes, of course I’m being serious. I’m the only person I know with an Esrevnoc shirt, and I even donated a framed picture of the band to my neighborhood coffeeshop. Somewhere between the Jackson 5 and the Japanese Chipmunks, Esrevnoc combined silliness with sadness, happiness and sappiness, corniness and horniness. These girls knocked me out with their first full-length, Better, although their followup was dreadful. But with this first record and a string of great singles, their hit-to-miss is just over 50%. Lead singer and guitarist Mittco Sky is divine, and I will most likely marry her one day. To a polyamorous sandwich with dayglo unicorns shooting out of its face. She’s charmed the pants off of some bees, and was alarmed to find that she’s the bee’s knees. Incidentally, their name is the word “converse” spelled conversely. How very Japanese. I need a better rhyming dictionary.

3. Scatman Crothers - “Walk On”

  This is the greatest man who ever lived, and yes, I mean that. Aside from appearing in The Shining and countless other films (including one of the Tarzan franchise), Benjamin Sherman “Scatman” Crothers is the one guy who kids of the 1980s would’ve most loved to have as a grandfather. This song, performed by Crothers at the beginning of Ralph Bakshi’s unbeatable animated blaxploitation feature Street Fight, is a tune you’re not likely to hear on the radio nowadays. Its gratuitous use of the N-Bomb is, well… most gratuitous—some might even say unrelenting—and none of the kids of today deserve to be spoken to in the stark language of awareness that so permeates the hyperactive minds of the kids of today. But here it is, kids. Come and get your supper. It’s warm and delicious, but also incredibly nutritive. Whitey’s never written a number this amazing, and he never effing will. Even if you freedom-hating leftists somehow manage to ruin Christmas, you’ll have a hard time denying that this is one song that, if employed propitiously, could secure a victory for Obama in the coming presidential race war.

4. Walter Brennan - “Ole Rivers”

  Oh, how I cherish Walter Brennan. This guy was in more than 220 films, was painted by Rockwell, and once had damned near every tooth in his head kicked out by a horse. He sounded like a redneck, and for that I adore him. Best known as Grandpa Amos McCoy from The Real McCoys, Brennan had some of the most hilarious character names ever. Lanky Smith, Cappy Ricks, Pa Danby, Old Atrocity, Cornelius Burden, Jeff Slocum, Cap MacKellar, Old Man Clanton, Blackie Fletcher, Tammy’s Grandpa, Swan Bostrom, D.J. Mulrooney, Knobby, Rimrock, Stumpy, Uncle Jesse Jackson, J. F. “Thunder” Bolt, Brimstone “Pop” Courteen, Sam “Gus” Barton, “Legs” Garnett, Prof. Stephen Novotny, Hector Titus, Muff Potter, Chief Yeoman Henry Johnson, and Secretary to Sylvester J. Sutton Sr. There’s more. Pop Gruber, Col. Jeb Hawkins, “Doc” Butcher, Featherhead, Gramp Flynn, and Karp. And there’re still some other funny ones, too, but that’s what the Internet is good for. I think so, at least. Oh, and this song’s about a dead animal of some kind; a horse, perhaps. Maybe a dog. Or else a farmer.

5. The Sugarcubes - “Birthday (Jim & William Reid Christmas Eve Mix)”

  This song could make anyone relax. I don’t care what your problems are… this is some golden shit. The lovely Bjork singing her ass off to the smashing guitar noise of the Jesus and Mary Chain. Personally, I think the Reids should’ve mixed the entire Sugarcubes catalog, but who am I to complain? (They should’ve produced the KUKL records, as well.) Hey, I know I said that none of these songs have anything to do with Christmas, and this one only relates in name alone, though the original title of the song is a bittersweet reminder of the birth of our Lord and Savior, old St. Nick, who was mercilessly slaughtered by wild-eyed Islamofascists. Peace on Earth and enjoy, strangers. I may still have a few holiday surprises for you yet. They’re not over until St. Patrick’s Day, anyway.

  Get your War on Christmas on.

  Hey, it’s been a great couple of weeks over there in Iraq. Recently, I downloaded a somewhat lengthy video clip that shows the rest of the world just how much America really cares. Contractors in Iraq are more or less free to do whatever they want, including murder whoever they like. Or dislike. I won’t post the video or link to it here, but I encourage anyone who hasn’t yet caught a glimpse of nausea-inducing redneckery at its finest to seek it out. The video is a static shot, lovingly captured through the rear window of a moving vehicle. By the time the video ends, you will have witnessed quite a few civilian motorists as their brains are mercilessly sniped through their windshields. Hey, who knows? Maybe the victims can take a joke and this will all wash over. Naturally, the good ol’ boys filming the chaos were listening to Elvis’ “Mystery Train” at top volume, just having a hoot and painting the town red. With the blood of innocent Iraqis, natch. So, in their honor, these brave and self-sacrificing, imbecilic and murderous jagoffs—who each fantasize on a daily basis about being gang-raped by their closest male family members—I present: 5 Much Better Songs to Listen to While Murdering Innocent Civilians Only a Short Time Before Celebrating the Birth of Your Precious Savior, Who Incidentally Hates Your Anti-American and Worthless Hillbilly Guts When You Run Around Mindlessly Killing People—or Even When You Don’t—You Stupid, Filthy, Drooling, Useless Bastards, Part 1.

1. Ed Sanders - “The Illiad”

  Ed Sanders is a noted poet, author, songwriter, and humorist. He started a periodical called Fuck You: A Magazine of the Arts, which tells us a little about how he thinks. His 1969 debut record, Sanders’ Truckstop, was a nice departure from all the pseudopsychedelia and hirsute hijinks the decade had to offer. Come to think of it, I’d rather listen to this record than almost any other. With song titles like “Pindar’s Revenge” and “Jimmy Joe, the Hippybilly Boy,” it’s hard to understand why Sanders isn’t well-known by the countless blunderbusses passing themselves off as wannabe hipsters nowadays. Brazen, unflinching, powerful, literate, wordy, and honest-to-God funny… that’s what this guy is, and this is one song that every smalltown psychopath should enjoy, for one reason or another.

2. Mr. T - “Mr. T’s Commandment”

  Hey, murderous assholes: if you’re not going to listen to your conscience, at least take some advice from Mr. Fucking T. No… I’m not talking about fashion advice, though sporting a mohawk and pulling your tube socks over your genie pants might not be such a bad idea. A lot of people might prefer to hear T’s stirring tribute “Treat Your Mother Right” for the zillionth time, but this song is so much cooler. It might be that tacky synthpop vibe, or else that T is at the top of his game with some solid rhymes. Um, sure. But make no mistake: this guy can pity some fools, and that apparently includes anyone who doesn’t heed his “commandment,” which I guess is to just be cool to your parents. Here we have a priceless example of how one man can utterly humiliate the rest of the world just by doing his job. I guess there’s really not much of a lesson to be learned here, after all.

3. Pimp Daddy Welfare - “Mr. T is a Bitch”

  Pimp Daddy Welfare makes “poor core,” whatever that is. Not that anyone cares. This nancyboy is really fucked up if he thinks he can take Mr. T, though. I mean: take a look at this idiot, for God’s sake. What in the Hell is he thinking? I’ve seen Mr. T knock out innumerable bad guys as they pointed guns at him, not to mention what he did to Rocky Goddamned Balboa. Mr. T has busted heads over much less, and I have every reason to believe that he will one day whip the living shit out of this little whiteboy hype. Not only that, but this guy is a worse rapper than Mr. T. I never thought I’d be saying that about anyone, but there you have it. Still, I imagine this song would be pretty funny to listen to if I was a simian jerkoff with a machine gun.

4. Chechenz With Attitudes - “Straight Outta Grozny”

  Fans of Rolling Stone’s Matt Taibbi will already know of his exploits with this countercultural institution. Founded by American journalist Mark Ames, The Exile  is an endless source of humor. It’s an English language newspaper based in Moscow, and their wit is only barely outdone by their outlandishness. For instance, Michael Wines of The New York Times was awarded the title of 2001’s “Worst Journalist of the Year.” He was then hit in the face with a pie made of horse sperm. The sperm came from Pobornik, a horse with “totally mediocre” genes. The rest is history. According to their website—which is most assuredly somewhat mistaken—this remake of NWA’s “Straight Outta Compton” features Aslan Maskhadov, Shamil Basayev, and the infamous Chechen warlord Khattab, along with DJ Dr. Dzhokar. The result is just about the best rewording of a rap song I’ve ever heard. Or the most violent.

5. Sarah Vaughn - “Bye Bye”

  Enrico Nicola Mancini, better known as Henry, is one of the most beloved American composers of the 20th century. He scored hits for TV and film, including “Moon River,” “Baby Elephant Walk,” and the music from the Pink Panther movies. He won many Grammy awards, including two for his Peter Gunn theme, which went to #1 in the U.S. and much later had a resurgence in popularity as the adopted theme of the classic video game Spy Hunter. Like “Caravan,” this is one of those songs that most people only know as an instrumental, but Ray Evans and Jay Livingston wrote the lyrics for Mancini’s soundtrack to the 1967 film version of Gunn. Here is Sarah Vaughn’s excellent rendition, which many slobbering infidels should find exciting, if for nothing more than the fleeting sensation that their unarmored vehicles are fitted with cool spy gadgets. And one last word of advice to those overpaid yokels: next time you want to kill something, do us all a favor and shoot the guy next to you, then yourself. And then go to Hell.

  In May of 1981, Sweden’s consummate spy-model Virna Lindt released “Attention Stockholm,” a tale of new wave intrigue—a supersecret agent (Codename: Cologne) attempting to contact a wayward counterspy (Codename: Stockholm) in Soviet Russia, presumably by wire, though for some reason a telephone also appears to have been involved. In October of the same year, borrowing its moniker from a line in Lindt’s song, Brussels outfit Berntholer was born. Founded by Albanian vocalist Drita, bassist Pol Fourmois, guitarist Simon Rigot, and keyboardist Manuel “Manu” Poutte (also the winner of a Palme d’Or at Cannes for a short film in 1992), Berntholer embraced cold wave and—to hear them tell it—sought to make semi-dispiriting, unpopular music. Skipping ahead to March of 1983, one of Drita’s songs is recorded by a friend, Gilbert Lederman, as a student project. A publicist, Jan Cabooter, happened upon the demo and persuaded the band to cut a proper single, to be released by a tiny indie label months later. The song received a good deal of airplay from John Peel, and in no time it became known throughout Europe, although it wasn’t immediately available in Great Britain. “My Suitor” was released by London’s Blanco Y Negro label in 1984, with an additional coda scored by minimalist composer Wim Mertens, whose piece “At Home” had coincidentally been a tremendous influence on Drita’s ballad. She quit the band in 1985, was replaced for a single concert by Niki Mono, and subsequently Berntholer ceased to exist. Conflicts of interest were largely to blame, though, with no contract in sight, it’s safe to assume that a lack of financial opportunity hastened the band’s demise. It’s hard to determine the impact of “My Suitor” on European culture in the 1980s. Certainly it seems to have tapped into a great deal of the frustration of the European new wave scene, but its simplicity was abstention from the glitter of an intransigent (yet emptily idiosyncratic) circle-jerk of disaffectedly hip post-punk snottiness; an inexcusable tradition that would not abate to the present day, evidently. As sappy and contrived as any other love song, I suppose, but a tad more exotic. The tune was selected by Bassta, a popular radio show in Brussels, for a contest in which competing bands remixed the song. It has been covered a number of times, notably by electro-artpopsters Figurine. Studio-Brussel’s Chantal Pattyn called the song, “one of the classics of Belgian new wave,” and—in spite of its atmosphere of gloom and occasionally confounding lyrics—it’s a terrific number.