March is foul weather, foul lines, and foul language.
So, for as long as we can stand it, follow me (children excluded) to the depths of depravity, the dirty-minded ditties… next stop the Tabu Zone.
FYI: There’s so much peppermint profanity out there we’ll spend the entire month on only bathroom-related bad words (the big F can have its own month later).
So, starting out slowly, we’ll step on a carpet frog and blame the dog: (you know) flatulence.
Certainly the standard funny here is a collection of well tuned assholes vocalizing the songs. I’ve got one or two of those albums. Ever since 1990 any boob with a Casio keyboard and some knowhow has sampled the noises of bodily functions and played those ‘notes.’ Bored now. (If you’re not, give “Silent Butt Deadly Night” a try. It’s on a Red Peters album as done by Jingle Smells. My Smelly Holidays album has it by Pull My Finger–i worry these lowbrow guys don’t get the copyright protection they need.)
I’d rather delve into the subject matter of blowing, breaking, cracking, doing, dropping, letting loose, shooting, and squeezing during the holidays. So, to open the window, here are The Little Stinkers with “I Farted on Santa’s Lap (Now Christmas is Gonna Stink for Me).” This has gone ’round the block and been covered by self-appointed humorists (for their grandkids!) all over the ‘tube. There’s even a Karaoke set up. Stick with the 2004 original.
