The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXI

Dear Jesus. Lock up your grandmothers, America - Diet Tom Jones is here. . .

Album Title:  Christmas Tyme

Album Artist:  Englebert Humperdink

Humperdink, your reputation proceeds you.

And by that, I mean Tom Jones' reputation.

Englebert (what kind of loveless mother even thinks of naming her little, baby boy that abomination, by the way) has made a career out of being a Tom Jones knock-off. Like, if you wanted 'Tom Jones' but felt that the price was steep on Amazon, you'd try and order Tom Jones on, say, Ali Express - the large, East Asian online market where shit takes about eight weeks to reach you, and it's always a gamble of what's actually going to show up at your door. 

Sure, it only costs about a third of the price as the legit item on Amazon, but. . . sometimes you open up the box, months after ordering your Tom Jones, and find yourself with a shrink-wrapped Englebert Humperdink instead. And the box is covered in weird scribble-scrabble symbols that don't make sense in the slightest.

And also the box smells weird. But hey, you saved yourself some money, right?

Guys, seriously. This dude's name is only the tip of the iceberg of what's wrong with this Holiday offering. Can he carry a tune? Yeah, sure. . . but so can Tom Jones, and if I wanted this type of singing, I'd just go tell my nearby Alexa device to play me some motherf***ing Tom Jones. 

Because I do not own Tom Jones on vinyl.

This guy looks like the sort of man who drugs his dates and beats his wives. The sweater, while sorta festive (if we're knit-picking - see what I did there?), it doesn't seem necessary. . . since the guy is clearly standing in front of a cheap, photo background. I think the guys in charge of the overall design of this album art should be beaten to death with the severed limbs of their children. Maybe at first glance there's not a lot to criticize, but from what we've seen on this here blog of mine over the years is far superior album packaging from much more obscure artists. 

You blew it, assholes.

I mean hell, we don't even get a 'from our house to yours' message scrawled on the back side of the outer sleeve. . . just super shitty fonts and a couple guys' names who were involved in releasing this shitshow.

Anyway, what's the music itself like?  Well, there's a lot of crooning, a lot of belting out when it's not necessary, a lot of overly-dramatic strings. . . pretty much what I figured going into this. This is '60s casino music for sexually neglected housewives, and about all it has going for it is that the poor son of a bitch whose job it was to mix this release at least knew what they were doing. Instruments and vocals are mixed well, songs fade in an out appropriately, etc. - it's clear that there was a competent adult somewhere in the production of this album.

The novelty - if we can even call it that - with this release is that Side A is a run of the mill collection of Christmas songs, which fine, whatever. Side B, however, is actually four, distinct medleys of Christmas songs. . . each with some kinda 'theme' that are cleverly (or not-so-cleverly) spelled incorrectly in order to match the title.

So is 'tyme' more old timey than 'time'? Why is this purposely spelled wrong so many times (or should I say, tymes) throughout the album? I'd think they were just trying to be vintage or something, but then again, based on the rest of this album cover's design, maybe they're just idiots and don't know how to spell. Could go either way. 

Anyway, in summary:

Does your grandma enjoy Tom Jones?  Can she not afford an authentic Tom Jones Christmas album this Holiday season?  Do casino-quality, buffet-proximity music acts and sleazy string sections get her feeling young again? Do men in their early 50s who start drinking vodka cranberries at 10am on a Wednesday get those grandma juices flowing? 

Then boy howdy, do I ever have the Christmas album for you. . . .

VERDICT:  3/10 - Seriously? (Get the f*** out of here with this nonsense, Englebert. And just so you know, I prefer Prince Humperdink from The Princess Bride over this crap. And that dude employed six-fingered men and considered Andre the Giant a reliable source of freelance labor.) 

- SHELVED-

- Brian

Cannonball One

hey folks...

we decided to throw the kid a birthday party a few days early this year in order to coincide with a saturday and kris' family flying in to town. this fiasco ended up costing us way more than we would've liked, but it was all worth it in the end.

we opted for a luau-themed party, as we couldn't really bring ourselves to throw the kid a standard, pink-and-princess shin-dig (which is the standard for infant chicks), and, being only twelve months old, alayna really doesn't have any particular interests or hobbies (besides crawling towards our flatscreen and smacking the crap out of it with her grubby, snack-ridden hands).

from the get-go, our plan was to have people over for a grill-out by our complex's pool, and then later transport everyone back to our place for cake and cocktails. we weren't sure if drinks were cool or not in public property, but we had a four gallon concoction of mai tais (crafted by yours truly) prepared and ready to go back at the house. the pool-side lunch went over well enough for what it was - a bunch of people shielding meat with paper plates and shooing away flies while others swam in a pool.

we either ended up buying too much food or else everybody who showed up were in 'polite' mode. consequently, we plan eating leftovers for the next month or so.

kris had prepared two cakes for the occassion, which was truly a baptism by fire for her, as she had never before made a cake and had no idea what she was doing. the giant sheet cake (pictured) turned out decent enough, and the cannonball's personal cake (fashioned after a grand piano, as the kid does enjoy the jams) turned out really well. you can see other pictures at my dad's picture site here.

not that it mattered to alayna, who only wanted to smack her hands in it, and didn't care about the baked item's decorative qualities in the slightest.

my dad ended up making it down and swung in for a surprise appearance that morning, so he was able to enjoy the kid's first birthday as well as kris' mom, sister, and the nephew/niece combo. it was a loud, crowded, confusing day with way too much crap going on to focus in on one thing in particular, and i, for one, was glad to see it over and done with. by my own rationale, i think i'm over and done with big kid parties until the kid turns 16.

then all i have to do is buy some junked-up used car and a card.

now, if you'll excuse me, i have about two and a half gallons of mai tai to see to...

cheers,

- brian

(tonight the part of 'Ricky' will be played by Fezzig)

you know, kris and i don't come to namin' things easy.

as many of you probably already know, it took us conducting a text message poll before, during, and after kris was in labor in order to tally votes for our own daughter's name (it took until the following morning before 'alayna' finally beat out 'delilah'...).

naming our first dependent - our quaker parrot - was an equally grueling affair before we had finally, after long last, settled upon 'fezzig.' (everything from 'dr.obnauticus' to 'mr. walter snacks' was tossed into the air and later rejected.) alas, we settled upon 'fezzig' because we're both big 'princess bride' fans, and, quite matter-of-factly, andre the giant is just straight-up awesome.

anyway, kris receives word from that lady that adopted fezzig once and awhile, and he's doing really good: his cage is next to the cage of another quaker parrot, and the two of them sit out in the sun and yuck it up together about God knows what. he's well fed and his temperament has improved. all and all, it looks like we did the right thing by giving him up for adoption...

... oh yeah, and the lady renamed him 'ricky.'

'what the hell?!,' you ask, 'can someone just rename a pet like that?' who knows. apparently this lady either vehemently hated the princess bride or else had serious beef with andre the giant... the latter, of course, makes no sense at all. what's not to love about this guy? ->

- brian

ricky's former roommate