Sing to ye faithful, boisterous and redundant

Last year, I caught some negative feedback for being a sourpuss about certain aspects of the holiday season, so this year I made a conscious decision to lighten up and try to enjoy the festivities like everybody else. And up until today, I think I've been doing a pretty good job, considering that it just started and there are already more than enough deeply troubling things occurring.
So what happened today?

I heard the song "Santa Baby". Twice.

Let me clarify; it was the "twice" that did me in. Like a circumcision, it was the second time around that was completely unnecessary and unbearably painful.

What's wrong with "Santa Baby?". Consider:

1. It's performed in the squeaky voiced, overtly air-headed bimbo fashion that used to be a popular female archetype when the song was written in 1953. Sometimes it's good when things go out of style. Such as grown women trying to sound like five-year-olds in order to seduce grown men.
2. As a plea for things like sable furs, new cars, yachts and a friggin' platinum mine, it's a paen to the excessive material greed that many already believe is the worst thing about Christmas. And that was before most people in the country were one paycheck away from selling apples on street corners.
3. It goes on forever. I swear, it's longer than the full versions of "Hey Jude", "Rapper's Delight" and "American Pie" combined. Or maybe it just feels that way because...
4. It's the same notes over and over and over and over again. It's even more obnoxious that "The Twelve Days of Christmas" because at least you know that song will end. They have to get to twelve eventually and they won't go past that. Not so with "Santa Baby". They could go for days, just asking for more and more shit while playing the same four damn chords over and over and over and over again. If you wanted to train a chimp to play "Santa Baby" on the piano all day long, you could...in theory. But in reality, he'd snap and would remove one of the piano wires and strangle you with it and you'd be charged posthumously with animal cruelty. But for those who survive, the torture doesn't end there because...
5. The song will burrow into your ear and plant itself deep inside your brain. Before you know it, it has destroyed your Parietal Lobe. Your friends will find you several hours later softly humming it to yourself while a single strand of saliva leaks out of your mouth and dangles from your chin. Is that really how you want to spend Christmas (without the benefit of egg nog, I mean)? I would think not.

Luckily, I have the antidote right here:

Yes, thank god once again for Fishbone (which is something we just don't take the opportunity to say often enough, in my opinion). Not only does it remove any and all traces of the "Santa Baby" earwig, it also fulfills your yearly obligation to watch "It's A Wonderful Life" with 2:07:45 to spare, time that can be used for shopping, cooking or treating yourself to a nice nap.