Posted on 12/24/2002 2:10:49 PM PST by knighthawk
I was watching some cable station and a commercial came on for The Anne Murray Christmas Album. And I found myself wondering just when Anne Murray started turning into Harvey Keitel. She's the spitting image now. Maybe the same commercial is running on some entirely different station as Harvey Keitel Sings O Holy Night And 20 Other Seasonal Classics.
Anyway, after the thought had occurred, I found the idea of Anne singing Yuletide favourites somehow rather ordinary. So I was pleased to read in this newspaper that the Royal Canadian Mint was radically reinventing the "holiday" songbook with its new jingle The Twelve Days Of Giving: "On the first day of giving/My true love gave to me," etc. At which point, the true love hands over one of those Royal Canadian Mint presentation sets that make a beautiful gift for young and old as well as a sound investment, given that they decline in value at a marginally slower rate than the regular coins.
Some of us had no idea that the Royal Canadian Mint had a guy on the payroll rewriting Christmas songs, but Heritage Minister Sheila Copps assured me it had been a personal election pledge of the Prime Minister. "Under the new Seasonal Song Registry," explained Ms. Copps, "every Federal agency will have its own beloved Christmas favourite, extensively rewritten to ensure it conforms with Canadian values."
Frankly, I was skeptical. "You mean you're eliminating all religious references?"
"Not at all," said Sheila. "We respect the many Canadians who feel the need for an organized faith worshipping a new king bringing them the promise of eternal salvation. That's why we let the Liberal backbenchers do their ode to Paul Martin."
From the distance, I heard merry voices piping:
"'Twas The Year Before Chrétien
Retired from the House
And each Grit began stirring
A man, not a mouse
The résumés hung by
The chimney with care
In hopes that Paul Martin
He soon would be there ..."
"Now that's what I call an organized religion," said Sheila, appreciatively. "You're probably wondering what all this cost. Well, it's true we overran the budget a little. We're now up to $700-million, which is more than EMI paid to get rid of Mariah Carey, but at least we got an album out of it, and it works out to a very reasonable $36.8-million per fully Canadianized Yuletide standard. Plus the Seasonal Song Registry has offices in every province and territory, to serve you better." And Sheila began booming out in her familiar bass:
"O Registry, O Registry
How lovely are your branches ... "
I still had my doubts. "But people love these songs just as they are. They like the bit about making a list, checking it twice, gonna find out who's naughty or nice ..."
"Yeah, well, Jean still does that, but the backbenchers just laugh. But we do have his great legacy number, a stunning remake of John Lennon's Merry Xmas (Warming's Over) by Jean Chrétien and the Plastic Kyoto Band."
"But what about all the beloved Christmas characters? The reindeers, the elves?"
"You want elves?" said Sheila. "Here's a merry, madcap, mischievous little elfin figure we all love." And, to my astonishment, that beloved pixie Allan Rock came twinkling out of the broom closet in green tights bulging with loonies like a man who'd been waiting way too long to get his multiple thromboses operated on. He was surrounded by Federal civil servants in fishnets and fur-trimmed red basques as the entire scene filled up with artificial snow, which on closer inspection proved to be shreds of triplicate Federal gun registration forms from 1997.
"Here's a classic we all adore," said the gals, as they began lobbing paperwork balls around Allan:
"Jingle Al
Jingle Al
Jingle Al Rock
Jingle Al's loot
In Jingle Al's suit
Snowing and blowing
Your dough by the ton
Tryin' to register ev'ry gun!
Giddy-up, Jingle Al
Pick up your feet
Jingle to your next post ..."
It took a while to clear the room, as the forms had to be shovelled into a fleet of trucks for delivery to a Coast Guard icebreaker for storage in Queen Maud's Gulf. "You'll like this next one," said Sheila. "It's that charming winter novelty duet, Baby, It's Cold Outside, performed by everyone's Number One off-again, off-again couple, Jean and Paul, cuddled up in the love seat by the fireplace in Sussex Drive."
Paul: "You really should go."
Jean: "But, baby, it cold outside."
Paul: "You're moving too slow."
Jean: "But, baby, it cold outside."
But an impatient Jean brusquely pushed Paul aside and leapt into the decorative sleigh. "Dashing trew da snow in da one-horse open sleigh," he trilled. "An' let's face it, once all da SUV dealerships have closed down, dat's da way we'll all be getting' aroun' in dis country." But an icy silence filled the room. "C'mon, boys an' girls," said Jean, "you all know dis song:
"Oh, We Need A Little Chrétien
Right dis very minute
Cookin' up da leg'cy
Francie's gonna spin it
Yes, We Need A Little Chrétien ..."
But even Sheila just shuffled her papers and tried not to catch his eye. I looked around the room and seized gratefully on my old friend Svend Robinson. "Don we now our gay apparel?" I enquired politely.
"That's not funny," he glowered, and stormed off. Even Bernard Landry got a bigger hand than the Prime Minister when he burst into his regular New Year party piece about one of his favourite West Island language-law cases, Auld Lang's Sign.
Maybe it's just me, but I can't help feeling things will be looking different this time next year. Well, not too different. Just a new fellow in the Santa suit parceling out the largesse from the Liberal sack. Some things never change, do they?
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