fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
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This post also includes every tag I have -- this is because my current LJ style doesn't include a tag index. (At least half of my participation on LJ is on my phone. I chose this style because, as bare-bones as it is, it loads quickly and it's still readable on a small screen.)

I'd tell you more about myself, but that's what my profile -- and the rest of my LJ -- is for.
fierynotes: Picture of a B diminished 7th chord (B, D, F, A flat) followed by an inversion, in flames. (Bdim7)
So, I haven't yet been initiated by a vampire coven. This means I'm still in retail, and I'm now getting exposed to the constant background radiation of bad Christmas music. My coping mechanism for this, aside from ranting and raving and bitching and moaning, is to filk said Christmas music. I've been doing this for a while, and have typed up many posts of badly-tortured carols (here on LJ, here on DW), so most of you won't exactly be surprised, but there are a few new faces here, so... you have been warned.
fierynotes: Picture of Hotstreak, from the cartoon Static Shock.  He looks annoyed. (annoyed)
'Tis the season... for me to be horribly sick of hearing bad holiday music for eight hours a day and then using bands like Deicide to hose the reindeer shit out of my ears. And in a move that should surprise no one who's known me for a while, I've decided to mangle a few carols. A few of these are just short ideas I may build upon later. But not today. Today, I have cookies to make!


(To the tune of a certain Whore Carol, with inspiration from a movie by a (grudgingly) admittedly great director, which he made before he became known as a child rapist and fugitive from justice.)

Satan's baby --
That chocolate mousse did taste a bit weird.
Oh dear. And now, Rosemary's pregnant with --
Satan's baby --
He'll grow up to be the Antichrist!



(To the tune of a really cute song... the first couple of times you hear it. Then it gets really fucking annoying. Kinda like MOST Christmas music, really.)

I want a hippopotamus for breakfast!
Chopped up very nicely in a stew!
No need to cower, I'll start with some flour,
and render all the hippo fat and make a lovely roux!
And you'll think that hippo meat is tasty too!



(To the tune of a song that was created by a much-beloved reindeer that started out as a corporate mascot turned viral marketing campaign, back BEFORE there were such things as viral marketing campaigns.)

Rudolf, the Russian dancer
had a really massive cock.
And if you ever saw it,
you were, um, er... probably backstage at a ballet or something, I don't know.



(To the tune of a John Lennon song, with inspiration from a seriously messed-up "inspirational" song by a Christian group who somehow fails to see how messed-up the song is.)

So this is Christmas.
I'm standing in line.
And standing before me,
a boy no older than nine.

He's buying some footwear,
although he's flat broke.
I'm sure Allen Funt's here,
this must be a joke.

His mother is sickly.
Quite soon she'll be dead.
He hopes she'll be pretty
When on her deathbead.

I gave him some money.
He left with the shoes.
For surely this moment
was God giving me news.

For I'm so damn special,
and God is so cruel,
as to kill a boy's mother
and use him as a tool,

to teach me 'bout Christmas,
and give me the blues.
I know that I'll never
forget those fucking shoes.
fierynotes: Picture of a B diminished 7th chord (B, D, F, A flat) followed by an inversion, in flames. (Bdim7)
Wow. Three days from Christmas, and despite having been subjected to Lawrence Welk's Christmas Favorites Holiday Traditions on Sirius at work every day, I have yet to rewrite a Christmas song. I must be more exhausted than I thought. Oh, well. Today, it's Johnny Mathis' turn in the barrel!


We've Got a Lot of Christmas

Bring on the carols!
It's time to hear those songs that... you've all heard before!
Yes, it's the season!
You're gonna hear these songs ten... times a day for six weeeeeeeeks!

For they've got a lot of Christmas! Great big lot of Christmas!
Giant wad of Christmas, and it's coming out my ears!
Yes they've got a lot of Christmas! Tons and tons of carols!
They say their songs are golden oldies, but they've turned all gray and moldy!

Blackmail your children!
God knows that that's the only... way that they'll behave!
Let's hear more carols!
Let's hear a song about cold... weather, drinks, and date raaaaaaaape¹!

For I've grown a little sadder, grown a little leaner,
grown a little madder, grown a little meaner.
And I need a little music, with satan in the lyrics,
To rinse my ears of reindeer shiiiiiiit!

For they've got a lot of Christmas! Great big lot of Christmas!
Giant wad of Christmas, and it's coming out my ears!
Yes they've got a lot of Christmas! Giant wad of Christmas!
They're shoving Christmas up my aaaaaaass!



    1. I don't give a shit what the original intent of "Baby, It's Cold Outside" was. The fact that I have to hear it ten times a day at work has not left me well-disposed toward it. Lately, Sirius has been playing a version with Sammy Davis Jr. as the wolf, and I swear, he must hate the song a lot, because he seems to be trying to make it sound as creepy as possible.

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fierynotes: Picture of Destruction, from the Sandman series, reading a book and slinging a guitar. (Default)
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