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December 10, 2002

The First Noelle Unfortunate name,

The First Noelle

Unfortunate name, Noelle, and I'm not even talking about the Billy Carter of the Bush family. Noelle was an underclassman in my senior year, and as Christmas approached her life got worse and worse, from the dirty carols point of view.

The first Noelle, the angels did lay
Was with certain poor shepherds on rough bales of hay;
She was poor and she was cheap, and she had great big teats,
On a cold winter's night she was better than sheep.
Noelle, Noelle, Noelle, Noelle,
At sexual congress she did excel!

Zod: Sexual congress? What the hell was wrong with you?
I can't help it, it was a geek school.
Zod: That is the lamest use of a 5 syllable sex term, ever.
We had dirtier versions, we just didn't sing them at Noelle.
Zod: How kind and gentlemanly of you, to spare the poor girl's feelings so.

Zod's right, I don't really recall her expressing her appreciation at our creativity very effusively. Still, it could have been worse. She could have known me later in life, when I was even more cruel, and her name could have been Dixie.

I rewrote The First Noel once later on as well, for a N&O "make your own carol" contest back in the early nineties.

The Boomer Father's Lament

The First Lionel
Train that Santa brought me,
Was the Stainless-steel model number Eight Sixty-Three,
Pulling seventeen cars, filled with miniature folk.
And best was the engine which blew clouds of real smoke

Lionel, Lionel, your memory lives in my heart,
While my son is playing Super Mario Kart

Since Halloween
I have searched high and low
For a train like the one that I had long ago.
Now it sits, untouched, beneath the Christmas tree,
A Stainless-steel model number Eight Sixty-Three.

Lionel, Lionel, your memory lives in my heart,
While my son is playing Super Mario Kart

My son's Lionel
Is abandoned no more.
It merrily chugs round my living room floor.
Pulling seventeen cars, a show just for me;
'Cause my son sits playing his game on TV.

Lionel, Lionel, your memory lives in my heart
While my son is playing Super Mario Kart

I would've won too, if I hadn't stuck the paper in the fax machine the wrong way.

I couldn't write that song today. For one thing, Super Mario Kart is not exactly on everyone's Christmas list. For another, as far as I know there never was a Lionel Model Train #863, much less one that blew clouds of real smoke. These were the days before the Internet, when you could could just make up stuff because there was no way for most people to check it. It's much easier to make things rhyme when they don't also have to be correct.

Zod: It's all Al Gore's fault!
What isn't?

It still doesn't age as badly as the last one, written at the same time, just barely more than 10 years ago. The world spins faster that we realize, though a Bush was President then, too.

S&L's (to the tune of Jingle Bells)

Well the Japanese
Are really doing great,
Producing our movies
And buying real estate!
Hai! Hai! Hai!

Yes, we won the war,
But they won the peace.
We gave until it made us sore
And they gave us receipts!

Ohhhhhhhhh,
S&L's, S&L's
Failing every day
Oh what fun it is to see
Our money slip away!

S&L's, S&L's
They were pay for play!
Oh what fun it is to see
Our future go astray!

Posted by Bigwig at December 10, 2002 10:03 PM | TrackBack
Postscript:
First time visitor to House Hraka? Wondering if everything we produce could possibly be as brilliant/stupid/evil/pedantic/insipid/inspired as the post you just read? Check out the Hraka Essentials, the (mostly) reader-selected guide to Hraka's best posts, and decide for yourself.
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