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LISTENING IN: This Christmas medley is just too much

I implied last week that I am largely uninspired by most of the overwrought and overthought holiday musical fare that comes like the snow this time of year (whether you want it or not). But I’m not in fact a mean one like Mr. Grinch, because I do in fact love that classic song, along with many of the other great cartoon tunes that still make me smile.

Many date back to the 1960s and ‘70s, but to this day, I’ll still put one foot in front of the other and walk across the floor to hear Burl Ives’ “Holly Jolly Christmas,” and sway like a beatnik to the Charlie Brown pageant song. I shed a tear over “A Year Without a Santa Claus,” and deliberate over what “fahoo fores, dahoo dores” actually means (and what in the world those Who’s down in Whoville are doing).

But nothing, in my estimation, is cooler, and at the same time gets my temperature rising, like the irrepressible Snow Miser/Heat Miser medley from “The Year Without a Santa Claus” (1974), the story of which I’m almost certain everyone knows.

So, in the spirit of Christmas pasts, here’s a little seasonal fun, and a send-off from us to you for the holidays with a smile. It’s too much.

Lyrics

I’m Mister White Christmas,
I’m Mister Snow.
I’m Mister Icicle;
I’m Mister 10 below.
Friends call me Snow Miser, whatever I touch,
Turns to snow in my clutch.
I’m too much.

He’s Mister White Christmas, he’s Mister Snow.
That’s right!
He’s Mister Icicle; he’s Mister Ten below.

Friends call me Snow Miser, whatever I touch,
Turns to snow in my clutch.
He’s too much.

I never want to know a day
that’s over 40 degrees,
I’d rather have it 30, 20,
10, 5 and let it freeze!

He’s Mister White Christmas,
He’s Mister Snow.
That’s right!
He’s Mister Icicle;
he’s Mister Ten below.

Friends call me
Snow Miser, whatever I touch,
Turns to snow in my clutch.
Too much.
Too much!

I’m Mister Green Christmas, I’m Mister Sun.
I’m Mister Heat Blister, I’m Mister 101.
They call me Heat Miser whatever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch.
I’m too much.

He’s Mister Green
Christmas, he’s Mister Sun.
He’s Mister Heat Blister,
he’s Mister 101.
They call me Heat Miser whatever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch.
He’s too much.

Thank you.
I never want to know a day
that’s under 60 degrees,
I’d rather have it 80, 90, 100 degrees!

Oh, some like it hot, but I
like it really hot! Mwahahaha!

He’s Mister Green
Christmas, he’s Mister Sun.
Sing it!
He’s Mister Heat Blister,
He’s Mister Hundred and One.
They call me Heat Miser whatever I touch
Starts to melt in my clutch.
I’m too much.
Too much!

First published at Travel Industry Today

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