Sing with me!
Up on the housetop, click, click, click
Down through the chimney comes Old Nick
His cloven hooves make lots of noise
As he gobbles up girls and boys
Six-six-six, get your crucifix
Six-six-six, get yo-
What’s that? These aren’t the usual words for “Up On the Housetop”? Well that’s right they aren’t! I changed them!
Now the song is charmingly demonic!
Before you freak out again, I want to remind you that America has a long tradition of altering lyrics to holiday standards for humorous effect (“Jingle bells, Batman smells, Robin lays an egg…”). I am simply carrying on a torch passed on to me by whoever wrote that classic. Probably Bill Cosby or something.
I’m not going to come out and claim that my authorship of these hilariously Satanic lyrics makes me a great American. That’s for history to decide. I’m just a simple man who likes his steak medium rare and his Christmas music troublingly altered. I can’t know for certain what historians will write about me in 300 years; probably that I was a tall, strikingly handsome man with the strength of a 100 donkeys and the wit of 60 Mark Twains. If that’s what they write, fine by me. If not, they’d be in error, but it wouldn’t bother me none. I know in my heart what I’ve contributed to mankind.
You all can go ahead and thank me when you get the chance. My office hours are 2:30-5pm.