The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXX

Welcome back, Internet.  We got ourselves some good ol' fashioned, soul-saving Christmas cheer today

Album Title:  Come on, Ring Those Bells

Album Artist:  Evie

I'm not gonna lie, folks - I totally picked this one up due to the ridiculous cover art.  I found this in my previously-discussed stack of vinyl that I scored at the Bethesda thrift store, across from my school, where you can score vinyl for an unheard of 59 cents apiece.

And this baby?  I couldn't pass this one up.  I mean, just look at this chick:

If warm milk, abstinence, and homophobia was a person.

Yes, somebody once paid $8 for this.

So many thoughts went through my head when I first saw this lady on the cover of this album.  First of all, who the hell is this 'Evie' lady?  The one-name moniker - who in the hell does she think she is, Cher?  Madonna?  Meatloaf?  Is she some sort of Scandinavian super-star?  A Partridge-Family, G-rated, fun-for-the-whole-family balladeer?  Is this a independently-funded release by a big dreamer who had to eventually grow up and realize she wasn't going to be a Carpenter sister, and had to eventually get a job ringing up groceries somewhere in Kansas?

Nope on all accounts, I guess.  Squeaky-clean, country-ish, Christian Music singer.  Go figure.

Note:  after writing this review, I hopped onto Wikipedia and found out she is Scandinavian. . . so I'm not too far off base.

Folks, this is the least-offensive record I've ever heard.  There's zero mention of Christmas trees, Santa, reindeer, snow, and certainly not mistletoe - why, that would offend our LORD.  Barn-born Baby Jesus, folks.  Nope, this is soul-saving, Nativity-centered, family-focused, Christian Christmas music.  None of that pagan, yuletide blasphemy to be found here, no thank you.

This chick probably spends a lot of time praying.  Hopefully for some dental work:

Believe it or not, this album actually came with a free poster inside.  A poster of a soft '70s Christian music performer.  You gotta wonder who the target demographic for this was.  Was this targeted for teens, who would otherwise be putting up LP posters of Kiss or the Beatles on their bedroom walls, but, because their parents are Jesus freaks, they're not allowed to?  So they have to hang up posters of Evie instead?  Do you want to see the bedroom of a person who would actually hang this up on their wall?  I sure as hell wouldn't - that would be terrifying.

The first of two sentimental messages on this album. . .

"Have you any room for Jesus?" she asks on Track 3.  Um. . . how much room is he looking for, exactly?  How much room does he take up?

Anyway, as for the music itself goes, this is pretty typical '70s soft country/pop fare.  The production value itself is actually way better than I would've expected:  I can't tell if she was just a behemoth of the '70s Christian Music circuit, or else these are all pre-recorded song arrangements and she just rented the studio time to come in and lay down a vocal track over top of them.  

Honestly, I'm not sure which scenario would be more fitting, here.

Everything on this LP is slow-tempo, low-key, and waaaay overly-heartfelt, bordering on the dramatic.  And certainly, while this Evie can definitely carry a tune (I imagine she was all the rage in her congregation's choir growing up), I find myself being turned off by her delivery.  

I think the problem with this record is that there's too much Jesus on this record for me to accept it.  Please don't get me wrong here guys, I'm not bashing Christian music, and I do love religious Christmas carols - done right, they can be moving pieces of music that completely capture the Season.  But even church services this time of year feature Christmas Trees. Completely neglecting the imagery of the Holiday Season - because it's takes away from the 'true meaning of Christmas,' blah, blah, blah - especially on a Christmas album, is jarring.  

No.

By all means, Evie, stock your track list with religious Christmas carols, that's totally fine, lady.  But throw in a couple songs about the other stuff as well.  Balance it out.  Maybe sing about the beauty of the winter landscape as you and your beloved husband - who sleeps in a separate bed, obviously - walk back from your nightly three-hour church service.  Sing about the Christmas Trees that are on display in the windows of the Planned Parenthood you and the rest of your church activist group are protesting during this festive Holiday season.  Because only nut-jobs drinking warm milk and not buying their children Christmas presents (because it would take attention away from Jesus) would appreciate this album.

And it's 100% obvious to Yours Truly that that is your target audience, Evie.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna mix myself up an egg nog and rum and blast some of Bad Religion's Christmas Songs (8/10 on the Odyssey Rating Scale, folks.)

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (It gets a couple bonus points for the production quality and song arrangements, which, oddly enough, are pretty acceptable.  Buuuut if Trump's evangelical base could release a Christmas album, this would be it.  There seems to be no tracks about Democrats stealing children in order to use them as sex slaves and blood donors, though. . .)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

The Plan for Summer

Set your phasers to 'FUN,' kids - it's mothaf******' Summertime!

This summer, I've made it a point to devote as much of my time as humanly possible to writing. The first time I attempted to do this, Kris squeezed out Alayna, which more or less destroyed any and all free time. The following summer, she worked full-time, which meant that Yours Truly had to babysit the year-old Cannonball full-time. Not so awesome. And last year, Kris up and squeezed out another kid, which, once again, put Brian's Writing Time on the back burner.

Not this summer, kids.

I've been hitting up the local library from 10am - 1pm, every day, and treating it like a job. Sure, I do have a Man Room at home, but the kids are always screaming about something in another room, or else banging on the door and demanding I come out and watch them trace their hands.

You know. The usual.


So during the mornings, while I'm out of the house, I'm able to catch up on tons of crap that I've been working on or else have been meaning to work on. It's been swell, and I feel like I'm accomplishing something instead of just pissing away my two months off sitting around the house chasing kids around and not showering as much as I used to.

Speaking of bathing, the pool has turned out to be the single greatest thing this family's ever put money into (kids coming in a close second). As the weather heats up around here, our mega-kiddie pool (or, smaller-sized adult pool, either way you want to look at it) has become our go-to haven during the blistering afternoons and evenings. The kids seem to love it, too - Alayna's getting to the point where she'll willingly jump to someone in the water from the top of the ladder, and Abby has gotten to the point where she'd rather just play on the ladder instead of in the water.

Everybody wins.

This week, the Cannonball also started Bible Summer Camp at the Peace United Methodist Church. Something by the name of 'Pandamania,' don't know if you've heard about this before...

Pandamonium: You may pay for the whole seat, but you'll be sitting on the edge!!!

Yeah.

Don't know if you've heard about this before, but apparently it's pretty cool with Jesus (and he runs our church, so... there you go). It's more or less three hours of games, arts and crafts, and sing-alongs. And at some point in time, they should stuffed pandas and t-shirts out of a cannon into a crowd and make toddlers and grade-schoolers trample each other in the name of the Big Guy.

That gives me and Abby full run of the house from 6 - 9pm every night, which is cool. So far I don't think Alayna's learned anything from the Bible, per se, but it gets her out of the house for a few hours so she can get some social interaction outside of school, and as a result, Daddy can get a small window of peace and quiet.

Praise Jebus!

- Brian

JUDGEMENT DAY!! (...and Abby's 1st Birthday)

Well, today was Abby's birthday. Officially. As usual, we Houghs didn't celebrate our kid's birthday on their actual date of birth, as our social calendar is obviously more important to us.

We didn't do anything extravagant for her birthday, either - she was running a fever, so we couldn't really leave the house and take her out and about somewhere. We hung around the house and let her open a few gifts that trickled in after her observed birthday.

Didn't want to do too much anyway, seeing how today was Judgement Day and all.

Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. God picks out all the V.I.P. members off the face of the Earth and leaves the rest of us to suffer at the hands of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (or something along those lines). This was evidently taking place around 6pm, so I wasn't about to make dinner reservations anywhere fancy.

I don't really watch the news much anymore - for the last fifteen years or so it's really turned into one, gigantic train wreck, and hasn't featured anything that could be even remotely considered objective 'journalism.' No, sensationalism is all anyone seems to care about anymore, and playing right along into that is all the news coverage surrounding the whole 'End of the World'/'Judgement Day' crap that some random, Christian fringe group started spreading around.


Harold Camping, sir, if you're reading this, please stop speaking in public. Go out in the woods, build yourself a log cabin, and commune to God in private. You're an idiot, and you turn the ignorant, gullible people the world over (and there are a lot of them!) into paranoid, delusional idiots (moreso) every, damn time you open that stupid mouth of yours. Please stop doing this.


Whether or not Harry and his peeps truly believed this was the end of the world, or (more than likely) the entire affair was a huge marketing tactic designed to drum up fear and reap the financial rewards, this whole 'May 21st is Judgement Day!' fiasco got way too much press from our beloved 'journalists.' This is hardly news, people. Who cares about this crap, really? And who actually buys into this sort of nonsense?

I'll tell you who: idiots.


I won't buy into the whole Judgement Day thing until I personally see fireballs start falling down from the sky. You ever catch that Simpsons episode where Marge, Lisa, and Maggie start floating up to Heaven during the Rapture, and Homer and Bart end up being left behind? I imagine, in just such a scenario, that I'll have the house to myself on Judgement Day... so I personally don't care if Godzilla or Mothra or the Bubonic Plague trample across Central Florida.

At least I'll get to play video games and throw back a few beers in peace for a change.

- Brian