Boo, "Christmas Shoes"

Today I was subjected to the maudlin “Christmas Shoes” song. I resented every second of it. Of course I cried, a knee-jerk reaction that I wish I could control better. Among the most irritating questions the song raises: What child really knows his mother’s shoe size, let alone thinks of getting her shoes as she is dying? Wouldn’t a nice blouse or earrings have been equally suited for the mother about to meet Jesus? And, biggest of all, why would the singer feel that God made a family suffer just so that his own Christmas spirit could be renewed? Solipsistic and disgusting. The whole ditty is constructed along the same lines as the grammatic atrocity, “I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free.” (And that would probably make me weep, too.)

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