Anatomy of the Christmas Shoes, Redux

My holiday break has officially begun, and while I intend to keep posting day to day, I'm going to be running a few "reruns" as well. Hey, if it's good enough for the TV networks. . .

Here's one of my favorites:

I’ve been wanting to write my own version of "The Annotated Christmas Shoes," since I read the original on Diary of a Blood Ray (now known as The B Pryde Machine) years ago. The first time I heard the song, my reaction was much the same as his. I wasn’t moved to tears. I didn’t find the song precious or heartwarming. The song actually kind of pissed me off.

The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that this song was brainstormed (if you can call it that) to be as manipulative of people’s emotions as possible. I can envision the writers sitting down to write a sappy Christmas song, trying to pluck the heartstrings until they frayed. Now that the season is upon us, this hideous song has already started to play. And play. And play. And I just can't take it.

So, taking a page from Blood Ray (and hopefully, not stepping on his toes too much), here is my own version, which I call "Anatomy of The Christmas Shoes." Put on your glasses, I'm shrinking the font because of length.

The Christmas Shoes by NewSong

It was almost Christmas time, there I stood in another line OK, It sets the scene, and it’s not so bad yet. It does manage to telegraph what’s coming though.

Tryin' to buy that last gift or two, not really in the Christmas mood Still setting the scene, and there’s the obligatory tryin’ as though "trying" wouldn’t be heartwarming enough.

Standing right in front of me was a little boy waiting anxiously Here’s where my cynic antennae start going up. I’m thinking the writers picked a boy, because a girl would just naturally do something nice for her mom. So, yeah, let’s make it a boy, to make it more poignant.

Continued

Pacing 'round like little boys do Filler. You can’t really pace in a line, and little boys don’t do it more than anyone else, do they?

And in his hands he held a pair of shoes Yes, the titular shoes. Why shoes? I’ll tell you why shoes. Because if the writers made it a hat, bra, panties, dress, or almost any other item of clothing a woman might wear, he’d seem gay. Believe it.

His clothes were worn and old, he was dirty from head to toe The scene was set, but this goes wayyy over the edge. Apparently, this is to show that the boy is poor. What it does for me is tell me that his parents aren’t taking care of him. He’s wandered away from home, unsupervised. He’s wearing rags, and he is filthy. What kind of home does this kid come from?

And when it came his time to pay I couldn't believe what I heard him say Cheesy writing to get to the chorus. You couldn’t believe it? Really?

[Chorus:] Sir, I want to buy these shoes for my Mama, please Because a dress would be too gay, remember. Also, this line is jarring. "Shoes" is so far from rhyming with "please," it almost audibly shrieks out, doesn’t rhyme, doesn’t rhyme!

It's Christmas Eve and these shoes are just her size Maybe he’s a little gay after all. What little boy knows his mom’s shoe size?

Could you hurry, sir, Daddy says there's not much time Where was Daddy when you needed a bath, and your clothes wore out?

You see she's been sick for quite a while Another line to make you feel sad, Mama’s dying on Christmas. OK, I won’t pick this one apart yet. . .

And I know these shoes would make her smile One of the more baffling parts of the song. Shoes might be the very last thing on Mama’s mind right now.

And I want her to look beautiful if Mama meets Jesus tonight OK, back to Mama dying on Christmas. Apparently, she’s not only dying, she’s dying of one of those women’s movie/soap opera diseases that doesn’t disfigure you. I mean, if all it takes to make her beautiful is a yummy pair of shoes, she can’t look too bad, can she?

And I haven’t even mentioned the cloying, syrupy, calculated to make you cry "if Mama meets Jesus" part. People! If this stuff works on you, you need to know that you’ve been played!

He counted pennies for what seemed like years Because that makes the story somehow more precious. If he simply was short a bit of paper money, it wouldn’t seem so annoying/cute.

Then the cashier said, "Son, there's not enough here" This kid is not only alone, filthy and in ratty clothes, he’s too young to know how to count money. Interesting.

He searched his pockets frantically I’m with Blood Ray, this kid’s a grifter. And a good actor too.

Then he turned and he looked at me Sizing you up, no doubt. . .

He said Mama made Christmas good at our house Though most years she just did without Laying it on a little thick there, kid.

Tell me Sir, what am I going to do, This kid is far too articulate to match up to the rest of the song. Maybe he’s not just a grifter, but a midget grifter.

Somehow I've got to buy her these Christmas shoes I’d swallow it if it were almost anything but shoes. What kid—especially a boy—would get so set on shoes? Does Daddy force Mama to go barefoot at home? Is that what’s going on here? Is Daddy abusive? Maybe Mama’s going to meet Jesus, and Daddy says there’s not much time because Daddy’s gonna kill her?

So I laid the money down, I just had to help him out I’d have rhymed that better. Finish it with, "’cause my heart had come around" or something.

I'll never forget the look on his face when he said Mama's gonna look so great Sorry, I still don’t get it. If Mama’s only problem with "looking great" is footwear, she had options. Socks, maybe? And it still doesn't rhyme. They should've spent less time being cloying, and made the friggin' thing rhyme.

[Chorus] Worse the second time around.

[Bridge:] I knew I'd caught a glimpse of heaven's love What? How? Maybe being an agnostic obscures this for me, but how does an untended, filthy kid, lousy at math, but speaking in verse, whose Mama is dying on Christmas Eve from a mystery disease that leaves her pretty except for her gnarly feet--show you heaven’s love?

As he thanked me and ran out As fast as his feet would carry him, I’m sure, just in case you caught on to his con.

I knew that God had sent that little boy Couldn’t God have worked a slightly more relevant miracle? What’s more important, a little boy being robbed of his mother and Christmas in one fell swoop, or for a bad singer/songwriter to learn the meaning of Christmas?

To remind me just what Christmas is all about. Yeah, yeah, we could have written that line, knowing what came before. It’s like when there was a hurricane in Mexico that destroyed a church, killed almost everyone, but it was a "miracle" that a plaster statuette of Jesus survived intact. The miracle, apparently, that Jesus saved his own butt. And the singer of this song? I really don’t know. And neither does anybody else. It’s worth mentioning that the last chorus is sung by a children’s choir, and the last line delivered by a single boy’s warble: If Mama meets Jeeeesus. . .tonight. . . Which really. Pukes. Me. Out.

The song is quite simply calculated to make you tear up, say "awwwww," and have a vague feeling that you should play it over and over again every year. The song is also ripe for parody, and I hope one day a talented writer (you listening, Blood Ray?) comes up with a song that simultaneously skewers this song, and outsells it.