Dear Virtual Caroler,
While I'd love to be into traditional Christmas music this year, in good conscience I can't be because life has dealt me a rotten hand for the holidays. I know it's cutting it close to the holidays, but I've written the following songs to give the non-jolly of us a voice as an antidote to the festive, joyous garbage that inundates us at this time annually. Please find musicians to record these, and deposit my advance into my PayPal account using this e-mail address.
May you muster the strength to survive these holidays with the least amount of aggravation put upon you by society,
Jon
All I Want For Christmas Is The Gift Of Death
Dear Lord, I ask for only one thing this Christmas.
For the love of Yourself, please take me off your shit list.
I've heard you have a plan, and for me it's to suffer.
I wish my fate was like the guy dead-center in "The Last Supper".
I'm poor and diseased, habitually unpleased.
I deserve to be struck down, I'm pleading on my knees.
You've taken my job, my wife, and my home,
That's why, for you, I've written this poem:
All I want for Christmas is the gift of death,
The gift of death,
The gift of death,
Lord have mercy, I've got nothing left.
Treat me like the puppy I got for my son,
Accidentally killed by my neighbor's gun
Or how about my son himself?
Being crushed by a falling Home Depot shelf.
Why can't I be more like my brother?
By his wife with a pillowcase he was smothered.
Carbon monoxide, hey give me a whiff,
Or let me go drinkin' and driving off a cliff.
All I want for Christmas is the gift of death,
The gift of death,
The gift of death,
Lord have mercy, I've got nothing left.
This year I've lost it all,
Being beaten by punks at the local mall.
After being diagnosed with Hodgekin's and
Catching my wife in bed with the mailman, and the UPS guy watchin'.
I got nothing to live for.
I just can't take any more.
if my Christmas doesn't end in execution,
It'll become my New Year's Resolution.
All I want for Christmas is the gift of death,
The gift of death,
The gift of death,
Lord have mercy, I've got nothing left.
15 Pounds And Rising
Turkey, gravy, stuffing, yams,
15 pounds and rising.
Pie and cake and apple bake,
30 pounds and rising.
Beer, spiked cider, and egg nog,
I'll be sleeping like a log.
You get up and walk the dog,
60 pounds and rising.
I've gained lots of weight,
And I'm feeling quite sedate.
My only exercise
Is eating tons of pies.
My pants are now size 36,
I can't bend over to
Pick up a Twix
I fall just like a ton of bricks,
80 pounds and rising.
Licking clean the turkey baster,
90 pounds and rising.
Hey, you going to finish that?
Hundred pounds and rising.
Time to go to Grandma's soiree
For the seventh four-course meal today.
Cracking up some creme brulee,
One-twenty pounds and rising
I've gained lots of weight,
And I'm feeling quite sedate.
I can't see my feet,
But these cranberries are sweet.
My jeans are now size 42,
I can't bend over to
Tie my shoe
But what am I supposed to do?
One-fifty pounds and rising.
This Christmas We're Buddists
Kids, forsake your Christmas list,
Now listen up, and don't get pissed.
All of daddy's earthly possessions
Have been take by the re-posession...
Man, I hate to have to do this,
But Daddy wants to talk about the Buddhists.
They're content with next to nothing.
No, there ain't nothing I'm huffin'.
This Christmas we're Buddists.
Don't sing carols, let's just chant.
Yes this Christmas, son we're Buddhists.
Buy you stuff? Hell no, I can't!
What are toys anyway?
Just little doodads with which you'll play,
For an hour or two and then get bored,
They'll get cast aside and then ignored.
Look at this, it's called a rock.
Smooth on one side, the other not.
Learn to love it's natural design.
Be at one with it and you'll be fine.
This Christmas we're Buddists.
Don't sing carols, let's just chant.
Yes this Christmas, son we're Buddhists.
Buy you stuff? Hell no, I can't!
No Christmas For The Unemployed
You can't dig out coins from the fountain
When it's iced over.
I'm beggin for cash just like
My name is Rover.
I spent my unemployment check,
Man, my friggin' life's a wreck.
I wish I hadn't lost my job,
Or owed some money to the Mob.
There's just no Christmas for the unemployed.
Go hit up the man that my wife's banging,
If there's a stocking on the doorknob hanging,
Or the van is surely rockin',
Just burst right in, don't bother knocking.
Look for that guy who's got his pants down
And isn't me, go play that clown
Smile? Be happy? I think I'll frown,
Carrying my hobo bag down the rails, out of town.
There's no christmas for the unemployed,
Can't you see?
You're asking for gifts while
I don't gots no pot to pee... in.
Stealin' Donations, Robbin' Salvations
You've got stockings on your chimney,
I've got a stocking on my face.
Stop ringing that bell, hand over the money,
Or I'll shoot up this place.
They give to kids both sick and poor,
I don't know what they do that for.
I sit and think and wonder why,
Since those little fuckers are gonna die
Gimme them donations.
I'm robbin' them Salvations.
You consider yourself part of the Army?
Well, I'm the needy, don't make me harm thee.
Toys For Tots is handing out fake guns?
Well hand them to me 'cause I've got a real one.
Tis' the season to be jolly?
This is a stick-up, so sing "golly-wolly".
Batteries not included,
Unless proceeded by assault.
I'm mad and poor, can't take no more
And it's the System's fault
Gimme them donations.
I'm robbin' them Salvations.
You consider yourself part of the Army?
Well, I'm the needy, don't make me harm thee.