Put these carols on the naughty list

Death, stalk­ing, adul­tery — some hol­i­day favourites need to be given a closer look

StarMetro Halifax - - DAILY LIFE - Vi­nay Menon EN­TER­TAIN­MENT COLUM­NIST Ron­ald Blum

Cue the outrage on both sides: is “Baby, It’s Cold Out­side” about date rape?

The an­swer, ac­cord­ing to ra­dio sta­tion Star 102 in Cleve­land, is ... it may well be. At the very least, the sta­tion ar­gues, the call-and-re­sponse lyrics — “Say, what’s in this drink?” — are trou­bling in the #Metoo era. The woman in the song keeps say­ing she needs to get home! But the man seems to think her no means yes! This sweet-talk­ing preda­tor is ply­ing this vul­ner­a­ble debu­tante with booze and alarmist weather fore­casts to notch a car­nal con­quest that is non-con­sen­sual!

So, yeah, the hol­i­day clas­sic is now banned at Star 102.

Was this a noble de­ci­sion that re­flects the egal­i­tar­ian virtues of our time? Or more proof the po­lit­i­cally cor­rect, eas­ily trig­gered snowflakes are com­ing for Christ­mas?

No idea. But if we’re go­ing to in­spect hol­i­day songs un­der a mi­cro­scope that can retroac­tively de­tect creepy and dis­turb­ing, why stop with “Baby, It’s Cold Out­side”?

Here are 10 other Christ­mas tunes wor­thy of a ban­ning:

“Grandma Got Run Over By a Rein­deer”

In this uplift­ing ditty, a se­nior cit­i­zen with Alzheimer’s is the vic­tim of a hit-and-run by a ma­raud­ing arc­tic deer. So this fam­ily let grandma out The ques­tion­able lyrics of “Baby, It’s Cold Out­side” didn’t stop Lady Gaga and Joseph Gor­don-levitt from per­form­ing it on a TV spe­cial in 2013.

the door af­ter she for­got to take her meds be­cause she was sloshed on eggnog? Got it.

The cra­zi­est part is they don’t care that Grandma’s crum­pled body was found with “hoof­prints on her fore­head.” Grandpa isn’t mourn­ing; he’s too busy watch­ing foot­ball and drink­ing beer and play­ing cards with cousin Mel. These lu­natics are happy grandma is dead. They even thank Santa at the very end.

“Please Daddy Don’t Get Drunk This Christ­mas” Noth­ing con­veys the spirit of the hol­i­days bet­ter than a small child plead­ing with his al­co­holic fa­ther to not get crap-faced and wipe out un­der the tree again. Even John Den­ver’s beau­ti­ful voice can’t mask the dark in­sin­u­a­tion of

do­mes­tic abuse. This song is to Christ­mas as a meat grinder is to ve­g­an­ism.

“Santa Baby” Speak­ing of which, how is PETA not up in arms over this clas­sic? In the very first line, the coo­ing woman de­mands a sable. When not blitz­ing Santa with eu­phemistic pil­low talk — “trim my Christ­mas tree,” “fill my stock­ing with a du­plex” — this gold-dig­ger is beg­ging for con­vert­ibles and yachts. Christ­mas is about giv­ing, but this lady of the night just wants to rob Santa blind.

“Santa Claus Is Com­ing To Town”

I beg your par­don? He sees you when you’re sleep­ing? He knows when you’re awake? You bet­ter watch out? You bet­ter not cry? Is

this a Christ­mas song or a threat from ISIS? Chil­dren, be­have and stop squab­bling. Eat your veg­eta­bles. Obey. Be good. If not, this bearded, over­weight stranger will in­vade the skies in his mag­i­cal sled and climb into your bed­room af­ter covertly spy­ing on you for the past 364 days.

“I Saw Mommy Kiss­ing

Santa Claus”

So this kid creeps down the stairs and catches his mother mak­ing out with a man who is not his fa­ther. (If he thought it was Pops un­der that beard, he wouldn’t say, “I’m gonna tell my dad.”)

Voyeurism, adul­tery, ex­hi­bi­tion­ism, shat­tered in­no­cence — what kind of sicko wrote this? The new mu­si­cal di­rec­tor of New York's Metropoli­tan Opera, Yan­nick Nezet-seguin, will con­duct per­for­mances of La Travi­ata in De­cem­ber. MON­TREAL—MIGHTY Mouse has come to save the Met.

Mon­trealer Yan­nick Nézetséguin con­ducts his first per­for­mance as just the third mu­sic di­rec­tor in the Metropoli­tan Opera’s 135-year-old his­tory when he mounts the podium of the fi­nan­cially chal­lenged com­pany Tues­day night in a new pro­duc­tion of Verdi’s La Travi­ata by Tony Award-win­ning di­rec­tor Michael Mayer. Some in the Met orches­tra have taken to call­ing the 5-foot-6-inch Mon­treal na­tive by the af­fec­tion­ate an­thro­po­mor­phic nick­name first be­stowed by mezzo-so­prano Joyce Di­do­nato. “It has to do with the in­cred­i­ble amount of en­ergy and su­per­heroic dis­po­si­tion, wrapped in a more com­pact pack­age,” she said in an email. WWW.THES­TAR.COM

James Levine started a 40year reign in 1976 that lasted more than 2,300 per­for­mances; he was pushed out two years ago fol­low­ing a decade of de­clin­ing health and fired from his emer­i­tus role last March af­ter al­le­ga­tions of sex­ual mis­con­duct the Met found to be cred­i­ble.

The Met said in June 2016 that Nézet-séguin would be­come mu­sic di­rec­tor for the

2020-21 sea­son, then moved up the timetable last Fe­bru­ary.

Nézet-séguin, 43, rep­re­sents a gen­er­a­tional change from the 75-year-old Levine, a dynamo in his prime but con­fined to con­duct­ing from a mo­tor­ized chair since 2013 due to back in­juries, his left arm im­paired by Parkin­son’s dis­ease.

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