For rizzle, my pizzle

It’s settled. It’s definitive. It’s not opinion, it is objective fact, amply established through exhaustive testing conducted over the course of years by a team of expert NASA scientists:

Jingle Bell Rock is the Worst.



It cannot be denied. It is inarguable. Jingle Bell Rock is rotten, it is fetid, it is putrid, it is an auditory horror, a grotesque, aberrant, unconscionable assault upon the collective timpani of humanity. It is torment, it is terror, it is toxic. The din of Jingle Bell Rock rises up to heaven, and heaven winces and covers its ears.

“But wait, Highlander,” I hear you moaning piteously en masse, your eyes upturned to me in tremulous, awestruck wonder. “You are, of course, infallible in your godlike wisdom, but still… Jingle Bell Rock… the worst song ever? What about Barry Manilow’s Copa Cabana? Or William Hung’s unfortunately deathless version of She Bangs? Or, for the love of God, Dan Fogelberg’s Met My Old Lover In The Parking Lot? Or The Pina Colada Song? Or Don’t Worry, Be Happy? Surely, Highlander, surely one of these must be a worst song than Jingle Bell Rock, which, yes, is a truly truly terrible song, but jeepers, Highlander, get a grip, it’s a Christmas song, so of course it sucks, but, honestly, you’re saying it’s worse than Achy Breaky Heart? Puh leeeze! There’s, like, no way, dude!”



And don’t call me Shirley.

From its sickly opening chord descent through the horrifying auditory mine field that comprises the entirety of this song’s mind bendingly insipid lyrics, Jingle Bell Rock is a foul and execrable blot on the musical escutcheon of the universe. Its writer should be bludgeoned, its arranger should be flailed with scorpions, anyone who has ever recorded the song should be broken on the rack, and dj’s who spin this particularly onerous platter should be forced to attend a showing of Fahrenheit 9/11 as Ann Coulter’s date.

Everything about it is despicable, deplorable, objectionable and wrong. It is an offense against man, god, and nature. It is abominable and hideous. Frankly, I don’t care for it much at all.

I mean, for the love of all that’s holy, it’s got references to a one horse sleigh in it.

No. No, no, a thousand times, no… there is nothing worse in this frame of reference. Jingle Bell Rock is wretched, it is icky, it is bad, and It Must Not Stand.

Let others fight their War On Christmas. I myself do hereby declare War On Jingle Bell Rock.

It’s time for someone’s fur trimmed, gum-booted foot to be put down… and that foot is me.

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