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Christmas video

Fairytale of New York

Yesterday I praised the Christmas crooners of previous generations, but we’ve had some good stuff of our own. This bitter, poignant winter tale touches on the melancholy undercurrent of the holiday so perfectly that it never fails to make my mom cry.  Adding the sad epilogue, in which Kirsty MacColl was horribly killed on her Christmas vacation in Cozumel, Mexico (the wealthy perpetrator caught, but never prosectued) at the age of 41 and the peak of her career, and this is perhaps the most bittersweet–emphasis on sweet–Christmas song since “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.”

By JunkChuck

Native, Militant Westsylvanian (the first last best place), laborer, gardener, and literary hobbyist (if by literary you mean "hack"). I've had a bunch of different blogs, probably four, due to a recurring compulsion to start over. This incarnation owes to a desire to dredge up the best entries of the worst little book of hand-scrawled poems I could ever dream of writing, salvageable excerpts from fiction both in progress and long-abandoned. and a smattering of whatever the hell seems to fit at any particular moment. At first blush, I was here just to focus on old, terrible verse, but I reserve the right to include...anything. Maybe everything, certainly my love of pulp novels, growing garlic, the Pittsburgh Steelers and howling at the moon--both figuratively and, on rare occasions, literally.

4 replies on “Fairytale of New York”

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