The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. CXXV

Hey, who's ready to touch [consensually] their inner, Holiday child. . .

Album Title:  Here Comes Santa Claus!

Album Artist:  Unknown

Here we got with yet another dollar bin find from Radio Wasteland; if you couldn't tell, this has been my go-to method for scrounging up cheap, shitty albums to review the last four or five Holiday Seasons. It's getting to the point where I have to make sure I don't pick any up that I've already reviewed in previous posts.  

This one, however, couldn't be passed up. Jesus H. Christ, just look at this frickin' guy. That's the most red-faced Santa Claus I've ever seen.

"Uh Oh, children - Santa's made a HUGE mistaaaake."

If he's sober in this picture, I'm an Ohioan.

He's got that 'oh shit' look in his eyes too - a look filled with shock and regret. To me, that either indicates he just did something sudden and gross in his pants and was unable to do anything about it in the heat of the moment. . . . or else that rabid, baby panda he's got cradled in his chubby mitts just bit him.

This baby panda is the thing of nightmares. It will eat your soul.

(That's the scariest baby panda I've ever seen, folks.)

Whoever previously owned this album played the holy hell out of it, I'll tell you what. Even after a run through the ol' Spin Clean record cleaning system, it's still scuffed all to hell. It'd be more believable to learn that the previous owner had used this record as a frickin' shovel than as something to be played on their turntable. The surface noise on this album is so bad I almost threw the record in the trash without reviewing it at all.

But that would have been a waste of a dollar, kids.

Anyway, shitty album art/record condition aside, the arrangements here could be best described as 'cartoon' music, gang. Accordions and xylophones  - and lots and lots of jingle bells - abound, everything's upbeat and cheerful, and it all sounds like circus music. Or the sort of thing you'd hear in a 1940's cartoon. Nothing here out of the ordinary, I guess, considering this is a children's album after all.  

Have I heard better? Sure, absolutely. Is it bad? Meh. . . 'bad' might be a stretch. 

It's not good, but, then again, I'm not one to rock out to children's music, I'm definitely not the target demographic here. That being said, I can easily think of, like, two-dozen Christmas albums that were geared towards children that had more 'child-appropriate' singers than this release. The male singer that takes the lead on most of the songs on this album sounds like a mix between Glenn Yardbrough and a stuffy, pompous banker type in an old Looney Tunes (like that Bugs Bunny would repeatedly mess with throughout the course of an old cartoon short.) Not the best vocal option for a children's album, in my opinion, but hell - what do I know?  This is a children's album, and I'm 25 years old.

There's no artist credits on this album to be found anywhere, so we'll probably never know who this sub-par vocalist is. But, taking into consideration the catalog of other record label titles advertised on the back of this album (instead of artist/band credits, 'from our house to yours' messages, etc.), I think it's safe to assume that this singer was most likely just company 'talent' that was brought into the studio for an afternoon of singing kids' Christmas songs. He probably makes appearances on the label's obligatory Country/Western albums, Polka albums, and a few of those 'Cherished Favorites' compilations of some kind, too.

. . . that, or he works in the mail room and just happened to be passing by a board room when a couple big-wigs asked him if he knew how to sing at all. Who's to know.

There's also a  female singer who takes lead vocal duty on a couple tracks (usually she just chimes in on some of the choruses here and there as a background singer.) She's a click above the male singer, as far as children's music from the 1950s goes. Gives off some strong Angela Lansbury vibes. So, you know. . . if that's your thing. . . .

Then, out of left field, just when you've been lulled into a false sense of childlike security by two, full sides of this kiddie circus album - BAM - the album producers drop a spoken word poem on your ass.

''Twas the Night Before Christmas.' Odds are you grew up reading it - or having it read to you - every Christmas Eve, it's a classic. But does it really need to be on a Holiday record? 

It certainly feels out of place, even on a bizarro Children's album like this one. To make matters worse, as the poem goes on, they start incorporating cartoon-y sound effects - window shutters opening, reindeer hooves on a roof, etc. - and background begins to swell. This, I assume, was included in order to inject some 'yuletide flare' into the famous Christmas poem. The result from the combination of this music and the guy's voice sounds like this would be far better suited for a 1950s educational film teaching children about how crayons are made in a factory. 

In conclusion, when in doubt, feel free to leave off adding poetry to one's Holiday albums.

VERDICT:  4/10 - Borophyll (A really dated Children's Christmas album. Had I reviewed this baby about, oh, seventy years ago, I'd probably rate it pretty well. Unfortunately, seeing how I don't have a access to a time machine, I'm going to have to knock it down substantially instead. It's also gonna lose a point for the beyond-stupid inclusion of a poem at the end of Side B.)

- SHELVED-

- Brian

'Twas the Night Before Christmas

The Nutcracker, on Disney+.  I was not impressed.

We're almost to the Finish Line, folks.

Christmas Eve came upon us pretty damn fast this year, even with our family launching the Holiday Season a week or so earlier than usual (after all, these are dark times, and we needed all the Yule we could get.)  Nevertheless, even with the extra couple of weeks in which to celebrate, we felt time flying by ridiculously fast, and before we knew it, the Holidays were almost over.

And so here we are.

Looks like it's gonna be a Green Christmas.  Again.

There's no f***ing snow on the ground (thank you very much, Global Warming.)  The kids have been regularly going to school all the way up until yesterday.  Kris is just now getting off of work.  It's been business as usual around these parts, and so there's no confusion as to why we haven't really gotten all that much into Christmas this year.  Sure, we threw up our decorations a week or so early, but when there's no snow on the ground and life continues on as usual, it's easy to forget the time of year.

Something weird going on in Abby's room.  Who knows.

Well, now that it's finally Christmas Eve - traditionally our favorite day of the year - we're in a mad scramble to squeeze in all the Holiday festiveness we can before it's too late.  

Our day, for the most part, played out like normal:  we watched some Christmas movies in the morning, while Kris and I went back and forth into the kitchen, preparing food.  Then, around lunch time, Kris' family showed up - this year, due to Covid, that meant just Marcy by herself - and folks decorated gingerbread houses, cookies, etc. while grazing on food.  

The kids wanted to use our wine charms for mimosas this year.

In the early evening, gift were exchanged, we drove around looking at Christmas lights, and extended family left.  When it was just we Houghs left, we launched into our usual wind-down traditions, which meant giving the girls their Christmas Eve presents (pajamas or robes), taking a family picture, reading 'Twas the Night Before Christmas (or whatever the hell that poem is called), leaving 'Nog and cookies out for the Fat Man, and putting the girls to bed.

Then, of course, it was time for putting out presents, stuffing stockings, mixing up some Christmas cocktails, and enjoying National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation one, last time.

After a decade of posting about this shit, you should all know the routine by now.  C'mon.

So yeah, anyway, here's this year's installment of Christmas Eve pictures and videos.  Very similar to previous years, just way fewer people on hand.

Enjoy. . .

Food starts to appear on the dining room table. . .

Samson the hobo dog.

(Testing out the flash before the day kicked off. . .)

Trying to shove a healthy meal down the kids' throats before a day full of cookies, candy, and God knows what else kicks off.

While I was playing with my flash, Alayna insisted on having her picture taken with the dog. . .

. . . and the other one.

After a couple hours in the Instant Pot, the Turkey is out and ready for carving.  This has seriously made the Christmas Eve meal so much easier, I'm pissed we didn't have an Instant Pot earlier on in our lives.

I know I've said this before, but we don't buy a whole turkey anymore - it wouldn't fit in the InstantPot - we just do a breast, which gives us way more meat that we can eat over the course of a few days anyway.

This dude has no shame.

Kris and her selfies. . .

So Kris wanted these shelves hung up in the girls' bathroom, which I was fine doing. . . but when I was setting the holes for them, Kris was standing behind me telling me where to hang the lower shelf.  Like an idiot, I took her word for it that the shelf was where it needed to be.  Little did I know, at the time, that she was just talking about the height of the shelf, not it's left-right alignment, so when I hung the shelf it wasn't centered with the top shelf.  And now I get to re-hang the entire f***ing thing.  Merry Christmas to me.

Time for one of my favorite Holiday beers, courtesy of Bell's. . .

The spread.

Meanwhile, back in the living room. . .

Marcy showed up around lunch time and the kids set to work constructing their gingerbread houses. . .

It's sparkling grape juice.  Give me some credit, Internet.

Some candid Christmas Eve footage for ya. . .

These assholes never know when to stop.

Still under construction

After letting the frosting/adhesive dry for awhile, the kids came back to put on candy and the finishing touches. . .

Samson enjoys being picked up and cradled as if he were a human child.  It happens a lot more often than I'd like to admit.

Abby's gingerbread house.  That nobody ate.  Seriously, do people actually eat this stuff, or does the rest of the country do what we do and just pitch the entire thing in the garbage after a couple days?

After hanging out in the dining room for awhile, decorating baked goods and grazing on way more food than we should have, we moved into the living room so that we could exchange gifts with Marcy.  Kris picked out a necklace for her mom this year with the girls' birthstones in it (a pearl for Alayna, an emerald for Abby.)

Alayna brings out another gift for Marcy.

Abby helps Grandma Jordan put her new necklace on.

Kris picked out some kind of a shawl or poncho or something from that Secret Garden boutique in Bay City she and all the other moms in our group are obsessed with.

Zoned out in a Christmas movie.  'Tis the Season.

Both girls wanted to wear my Detroit Lions Santa hats.  Whatever floats your boat, kids.

Marcy gave us money this year to pick something out for the girls, so Kris pulled the trigger for a hair curler for Abby (she's been using Kris' a lot this school year in order to curl up her front locks.)

And Alayna got a hair straightener, because, once again, she's been using Kris' every morning in order to fine-tune her hair before going to school.  These gifts, with any luck, will keep the girls out of our bathroom every morning.

Christmas Eve chaos.

More dog brawlin'

The girls try out their new hair accessories. . .

Kris scolds Alayna for not taking the plastic wrapper off her new straightener before plugging it in and heating it up (fortunately the plastic wrap scraped off pretty easily. . . though it smelled like crap.)

Then here's this holly, jolly son of a bitch. . .

Our friends, the Larsons, dropped off this late gift for Kris and I - they're fellow mimosa aficionados.

Marcy always insists on getting a picture taken every Christmas Eve.  Done and done.

After gift exchanging, we piled up in the van to drive around Midland for awhile, checking out Christmas lights.  Off of Vine Street we stumbled upon this crazy light show, which they had synced up with a local radio station.  Way more effort than I, personally, would've put into something like this, but hell - to each their own.

Upon our return home, here's your annual obligatory 'shots around the Hough home on Christmas Eve' series.  Starting things off with the greatest room in our house, The Study. . .

Holiday vinyl.

I hadn't broken in to this crap since our Marquette trip back in June (Brocation 2020), but I was in desperate need of some caffeine.  Desperate times call for desperate measures, folks.

After Marcy left for Clare, we gave the girls their usual Christmas Eve presents.  This year both girls got a set of pajama pants. . .

. . . and new plush robes and matching slippers (seeing how they had drastically outgrown theirs from a few Christmases ago.)

Happy camper

(She comes by it naturally.)

I'd say Alayna posed intentionally like this, but. . . that's just her.  The ever-disgusted pre-teen.

We managed to coerce a 'nice' picture out of them by threatening them with violence.  'Cause it's Christmas.

Winding down before bed with A Muppets Christmas Carol

If I didn't get to watch this movie on Christmas Eve while enjoying a Holiday cocktail, I might have to kill someone.

Snugglin' up with Samson, the attention whore.

After we got our fill of Muppets and Dickens, we scrambled to throw together our traditional Hough Family Christmas Eve Portrait.  This year I decided we should all pose around the piano, for shits and giggles.  I eventually uploaded it to Facebook with an MC5-themed caption, but Kris didn't find the cursing amusing so she untagged herself.  Whatever, Scrooge.

Kris' church was doing some outdoor caroling on Christmas Eve thing, where all the congregation members took pictures of themselves outdoors caroling. . . or something.  I don't know, I was inside for this.

Setting out 'Nog and cookies for the Fat Man.

This is all the more tiresome because Alayna blatantly doesn't believe in Santa and I'm, like, 90% sure Abby doesn't either, despite her telling us otherwise (you can almost see it in her face here.)

Another shot in front of the Christmas Tree.

And now, for the final tradition of the night - Yours Truly reading 'Twas the Night Before Christmas (or whatever the hell it's called.)

Oh look, 'Santa' crumpled up and threw away ate all the cookies. . .

After the girls went to bed, Kris and I threw in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (of course), and started bringing up all the presents (from the Captain's Quarters, where I've been housing them for the last couple months.)  Watson, like every damn year, was obsessed with what was in the dogs' stockings.

About an hour or so into the process, all the presents are under the tree, assembled in the appropriate manner (largest gifts towards the back, cascading in size towards the front - like God intended), all have bows on them, etc.

Clark reaches enlightenment.

The stage is set for what is bound to be yet another insane, Christmas Morning whirlwind.  And that's another Christmas Eve in the books, folks. . .

- Brian