The Great Christmas Record Odyssey, Ep. LXXXII

Look sharp, America - we have ourselves a genuine Holiday celebrity to deal with this evening. . . 

Album Title:  Have a Holly Jolly Christmas

Album Artist:  Burl Ives

Burl.

What kind of a parent looks down at a newborn baby and says, "Yup, 100%.  This baby looks like a Burl."  That parent must've been three sheets to the wind that day - it's a good thing Burl wasn't born with fetal alcohol syndrome.

Snow Bro.

Anyway, the poorly-monikered Mr. Ives is as recognizable around the Holiday Season as Santa Claus and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. . . more or less because all three of these guys were in the same movie together.  Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer - the stop-animation classic that came out in, like, the 1940s or something and has since become one of the most prolific Christmas movies in existence - features ol' buddy Burl as the voice of the film's narrator (a snowman who looks an Asian Wilford Brimley.)  Because of his role in the movie, and the fact that he sings a couple songs as well (which are on this album, actually), it's easy to slip right into this album and make yourself at home.

This is a really crappy graphics job. . .

The opening/title track of this album is the aforementioned one from Rudolph, and any person in Western Civilization could readily identify it.  This no-brainer of a Christmas jam has been covered many, many times, but no version I'm aware of holds a candle to the original.  It's not that Burl's necessarily a good singer (he's okay, I guess, but his voice is more novelty than talent), or that the song itself is awesome, it just oozes with nostalgia.  EVERYONE grew up with this song, so it's part of our shared Christmas experience.

If the entirety of Burl's album generated this type of emotional response, then we'd have a definitive Christmas classic on our hands (like Vince Guaraldi Trios' Charlie Brown Christmas, for example.)  Sadly, that's not the case with this particular album, because it loses its audience right away at the beginning of the second track.  

Burl, famous in the secular Christmas sphere, wanders over into the religious part of the Holiday season, singing about Jesus' birthday and what not.  To say this is jarring would be an understatement:  the churchy stuff is about as far removed from Santa, Christmas Trees, Rudolph, etc. as you can get, so when you have the guy that was literally a f***ing snowman suddenly singing about Jesus, it's like getting dosed with a bucket of ice water after stepping out of a sauna.  It's hard to separate Burl's voice singing about Jesus with the mental imagery of Wilford Brimley Snowman. . . and having a Wilford Brimley Snowman singing about Jesus would be. . . . well. . . just terrifying.

This slap on the face happens a few times on this album, but honestly that's my only gripe (even though I think it's a substantial one.)  If you like hokey 60s Christmas music, slathered up and down with Christmas nostalgia and invoking the memories of dozens of Christmases from yesteryear, then this album is for you.  Burl kills it on the children's songs ("Santa Claus is Coming to Town," the jams from Rudolph, etc.), as well as on the more secular songs - you can tell where his comfort zone is, for sure.

A folk singer by trade, Burl's unique voice - which you either like or despise - fits the song arrangements pretty well.  Not necessarily something you'd want to jam out to all the time, of course, but as was the case with quite a few albums I've reviewed in the past, this album fits a unique niche.  For those nights when you're perhaps looking through old photo albums of past Christmases by a fire, or writing out addresses on Christmas cards, or other such quiet, contemplative moments of the season, this is a sound choice.

VERDICT:  6/10 - Decent (I was going to give this a '7,' because overall it's pretty good, but aside from his upbeat, famous songs, all his other secular stuff is just decent. . . and his religious stuff is pretty weird.  I'm gonna keep this one, but can't say how often it's going to end up getting played every year.)

- SHELVED -

- Brian

Shanty Town and the Great Flood, Pt. III

(contd.)

Ryan went to check on our tent, which we assumed was fine seeing how we've never had leak issues in all the years we've camped with it.  He unzipped the tent and found a foot-deep puddle of muddy water occupying the front third of our tent.

I rushed in and quickly pulled all of my bags out of the water:  the front third of the tent is where I stored my stuff.  My duffel bag with all my clothes and toiletries, my backpack that had my MacBook Pro and other electronics, my camera bag with multiple lenses.  All under water.

Kris' stuff and Abby's stuff was spared, as they were stored towards the back of the tent. 

While this is good I guess, it wasn't very comforting:  90% of the value of items brought on this camping trip were in my bags, and those bags were soaked in muddy water.

So how did this happen, when our tent is virtually leak proof?  Remember when I said that the rain came on so fast and with such force that it created literal rivers that coursed through the campground?  Well, one of these torrents of water slammed right into the side of our tent, directly into the zippered door at the side of the tent.  While this zipper is seven inches or so off the ground, the water came on with such force that it broke over this seven-inch height and poured through the zipper.  I'm assuming the weight of the water then kept the zippered door farther down and more and more got in.  This would end up being a huge silver lining to this whole shit-show of a night:  our home-owners insurance has shit coverage for flood damage, but this was storm damage, and that is covered.

You can see from these pictures the amount of dirt, mud and sand that was carried along by the sudden onslaught of water. . .

It stopped raining just was we discovered this disaster, and the other guys rushed in to help me salvage what we still could, and begin cleaning things up.  Morgan and Ryan were able to empty most of the water out of the tent by lifting up the corners.

I took a lot of pictures of this entire process, for insurance purposes.  We'd be calling the insurance company first thing in the morning, you bet your asses.

Surprisingly enough, despite being farther down hill (and downstream) from our tent - and standing in nearly six inches of water - this tent had zero water inside.  I was impressed.

The tarps and rugs were shot, but everything inside was fine.  Thank God.  The Johnsons let Kris and the girls crash inside their tent that night, and Yours Truly opted to sleep in the van.  I had about three hours of shitty sleep, but I wanted the solitude.  It's hard to stomach losing $5,000 worth of stuff in a single night.

The next morning, we awoke to the reality of the previous night's events.  We had nowhere to sleep, we had lost about $5,000 worth of stuff, and the girls and I didn't have any clean clothes left (theirs had gotten soaked in the storm, too.)  Kris and I decided we'd have no choice but to break camp a day early and cut our losses, but she still wanted to do the big event for the weekend still:  the Dune Rides.  I had zero interest in doing anything else (I just wanted to leave and sleep in my own bed), so I opted to stay behind by myself and start the long, arduous task of cleaning up our storm-ravaged campsite.

Ru?

Imagine how much fun this was to clean up.  By yourself.

Meanwhile, waiting for the dune ride to start. . .

That's a big-ass chair.

These dune trucks look like giant G.I. Joe vehicles.  All you need are some gun turrets on the side.

Setting off on the dune ride.  Looked pretty fun, buuuut. . . I wouldn't know.

Miles' face says it all.

 Dune buggyin'.

What the hell are those, legs?

Some kind of evil bush, I take it.  Growing right out of the sand like evil bushes do.

I will say one thing, though:  these guys had great weather for this.

(Reminds me of Niger.)

This driver of theirs looks like Wilford Brimley.  I wonder if he suffers from Diabeetus.

Seriously, slap some missile-launchers on the frame and paint it red, white and blue.  Instant G.I. Joe vehicle.

They stopped at some point so the kids could run amok in the sand dunes.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, this is what the Day After looked like. . .

All that mud had been carried in when the water surged through the door zipper and left behind when the water inside the tent was emptied.

This took FOREVER to clean up.  Just sayin'.

Our group (minus me.)

Sgt. Brimely loads up his platoon back into the dune truck.

All aboard Carl's Cruiser.

That grass mat was also a total loss - no way of cleaning it up.

Always a comforting sign to see, I'm sure.

After everyone got back, Kris helped me break the rest of our campsite.  We loaded everything up into our two vehicles and said our goodbyes.  The Johnsons offered to keep Abby one more night so that she could attend Saturday night's big kids dance (a 'ball,' so they were calling it), and seeing how their daughter, Ella, and Abby are attached to the hip.  After we left they took all the kids up to the front of the campground for a meet-and-greet with Yogi.

Funny enough, this actually isn't the real Yogi Bear.  This is a guy in a costume.

They'd send us pics via text throughout the day so we could see what Abby was up to.  The kids went swimming a couple times, and even got some prison-appropriate face tats.

At 'the Ball.'  I haven't been to a lot of balls before, but I'd expect one would find a lot of princess-y dresses and shit on hand.  Perhaps crystal drink ware and bedazzled napkins.  I see none of these things here.

Wait, nope - totally spot a kid in a princess dress.  Nicely done, Jellystone.

The next morning, Abby still wearing the only set of clothes she has left.  After a couple days of sleeping outdoors and swimming and not showering, and wearing the same outfit for two straight days, I bet she smelled like pure shit.

One last picture with the kids in front of a gigantor Yogi statue, located at the campground entrance.

Headed home with the Johnsons, after a very fun-yet-very terrible camping trip.  We're still not sure how to process this weekend, but I'm sure this isn't the end of this story - we'll keep you guys updated with all that happens regarding our ruined possessions, insurance, etc.

-Fin -

- Brian