Its not even December.
Im still noshing on Thanksgiving Day leftovers.
But in recent days Ive already heard every Christmas standard ever recorded.
And, as a Floridian, no matter how sonorous Big Crosby sounds singing it, I laugh at the idea of a white Christmas.
Same goes for finding Frosty the Snowman, a winter wonderland or Jack Frost nipping at my nose.
While Im griping, the little drummer boy makes me sad.
So does the way all the other reindeer treat poor Rudolph.
Then theres the man with all the toys.
Santa Claus seeing me sleeping?
Thats a bit creepy.
So is the idea of mommy kissing him.
And whats up with giving your true love nine ladies dancing, eight maids a milking and a partridge in a pear tree?
What is a partridge even doing in a pear tree?
But of all the songs played ad nauseam this time of year, none is more disturbing than Baby, Its Cold Outside.
Especially when done as a duet.
Which is how its meant to be performed.
Broadway songwriting great Frank Loesser (Guys and Dolls, How To Succeed In Business Without Really Trying) penned the song about predator and prey.
If you believe Wikipedia, and on this I do, the lyrics are designed to be heard as a conversation between two people, marked as mouse and wolf on the printed score.
Take a wild guess which role the male plays?
Baby, Its Cold Outside first appeared in the 1949 musical movie Neptunes Daughter.
Loesser collected an Academy Award for his dirty ditty.
That same year the song became a hit for Dinah Shore and Buddy Clark.
It hasnt left the airwaves since.
Last year, thanks to the TV show Glee, Baby, Its Cold Outside sullied the minds of a whole new generation.
Am I the only person appalled by a tune about an older guy trying to get a girl drunk so shell stay the night?
Her: My mother will start to worry.
Him: Beautiful, whats your hurry?
Her: But maybe just a half a drink more.
Him: Put some records on while I pour.
Her: Say, whats in this drink?
Him: No cabs to be had out there.
Her: I ought to say no, no, no, sir.
Him: Mind if I move in closer?
Her: At least Im gonna say that I tried.
Him: Whats the sense in hurting my pride?
Her: I really cant stay.
Him: Oh, baby dont hold out.
Sorry, theres nothing even remotely romantic about that song.
It might even be condoning criminal behavior.
Apologies for being a downer.
But that song needed to be outed.
Well, time to return to my turkey leg.
And cleanse my ears (and soul) with the Vince Guaraldi Trios joyously jazzy, icky-free soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas.
Wade Tatangelo, features writer/columnist, can be reached at 941-745-7057. Visit heraldbuzzworthy.blogspot.com.