As I'm often told, this is because I have no holiday spirit.
I could see why people think that. I've never really understood the concept of being nicer to each other for one month instead of adopting that philosophy year round, so I don't treat people any nicer than I usually would.
Another part of it is because I'm agnostic. I celebrate National Religious Freedom Day every Jan. 16 and that's about it.
During the holiday season, I tell people I enjoy the secular festivities of Festivus, though I have to admit I've never once adorned my living room with an aluminum pole.
As long as we're talking about the famous "Seinfeld" episode (right) that introduced Festivus to millions, this blog entry falls under the festivities airing of grievances.
What really takes me out of the holiday spirit — and why many people say I'm a Grinch — is because I have a complete and utter distaste for holiday music.
That's what inspires the Seussian chorus of "You're a mean one, Mr. DeCicco."
I don't have a problem with the music for any religious reasons. I support the right of everybody to believe whatever they want. In fact, one holiday song I do like — if you want to call it one — is Dave Matthews Band's "Christmas Song," which retells the story of Jesus' birth, but not exactly in the order it appears in the New Testament.
The band typically reserves the song for shows during the holiday season, which touches on another reason I'm not crazy about this kind of music — they have limited use. You don't hear people listening to "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" in midsummer because it wouldn't make any sense.
Actually, since most novelty songs are disposable anyway, I guess that makes the music easier to swallow. Silly, catchy novelty songs can strike any time throughout the year, increasingly via YouTube — see Rebecca Black's "Friday." With holiday tunes, at least there's a time limit.
The trouble is most seasonal music reduces novelty music to its lowest form. It's a genre that doesn't have a ton of integrity to begin with. There's a reason that in "About a Boy" (left), Nick Hornby made it the bane of his character's existence that his riches were the inheritance of royalties from a Christmas song.
It's not all interminable, I suppose. I enjoy the "Jingle Bells" when the Joker gets away, although my own sadistic, preteen take on the first verse landed a friend in the school counselor's office. (Sorry, buddy.)
Though speaking of anarchy at Christmas, who can forget "Weird Al" Yankovic's "The Night Santa Went Crazy" — "From his beard to his boots, he was covered with ammo / Like a big, fat, drunk, disgruntled yuletide Rambo"?
There's Pearl Jam's annual Christmas singles, which often have nothing to do with the holiday itself. The band's highest-charting single to date, a cover of Wayne Cochran's "Last Kiss," was issued in the 1998 package.
The Vince Guaraldi Trio's jazzy work for "A Charlie Brown Christmas" is a record I listen to in the dog days of summer. That's because it's good music, no matter what time of year it's played.
That's why I guess I dislike holiday music so much. It's so disposable. It's collections of songs that get stuck in a drawer for 11 months of the year.
No one should be playing Run D.M.C.'s "Christmas in Hollis" (right) for just four weeks a year.
They're songs that should be celebrated throughout the year, much like the holiday spirit. To lock music — or, for that matter, "the holiday spirit" of being nice to one another — into one month a year seems a little restrictive to me.
See? I'm not a total Grinch. I want us all to be nice to each other.
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