Most people hate Christmas music. By now they -- you -- have itchy teeth, headaches, and wish it was over. I don’t mind, and can tune in or out without trauma, except for “The Little Drummer Boy”. That’s depressing as hell and I’ll be glad when it’s gone.
Instead, I hate the end of the year “Best Of” brigade. Ten best! One hundred best! Best of the decade! Spare me. The New York Times magazine today was a compendium of obituaries. The subject of each had died this year. It was like a morbid high school yearbook, I didn’t open it. Our nation’s media are about to become a week-long VH1 special, and those are only fun in spurts.
Benchmarks are good. We need to pause now and then, and mark our progress. It’s also important to honor and respect those who are gone. I’m all for all of that. I just don’t want to do it every day until January.
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