Randy Brooks, author of “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer,” proves every year at this time that he’s one funny SOB. (And not just because his song still gets played relentlessly some 30 years after it was first recorded).
Brooks, wife Marti, and their two daughters live in Dallas, and every December he sends out a “year-in-review” email to his friends. His missives never fail to crack me up. One day he should compile and publish them. Until then, enjoy a few excerpted thoughts on life in the Brooks household:
“Hello, friends and neighbors. Well, it’s that special time of year again: that time when officials at the postal service sit down together over their holiday luncheon, and decide whether to raise rates, curtail service, or both. And time for us to take a moment to reflect on the year drawing to a close – an ironic year in which our nation installed digital television, but also its first black and white President.
“Speaking of television and the President, wasn’t that some brouhaha when the Pres arrogantly attempted to address our nation’s children? Luckily, alert parents got wind of a plot to hypnotize the youth, change the voting age to six, and create an evil empire…and at the last minute were able to pressure the schools into airing Madonna videos instead.
“Time marches on, and age continues to take its inevitable toll. Randy’s selective hearing loss is growing steadily worse. He can’t hear Marti standing right next to him saying, “We need to talk,” but he can hear a coworker at the other end of the hall asking, “Happy hour, anyone?”
“In May, careless amplifier lifting earned Randy a herniated disk. As he was the third member of his musical group (Crosby Clearwater Eagles Wings – A Tribute to Tribute Bands) to suffer this fate, they decided to change their name to the Herniated Disco Band.
“In explaining the need for speedy surgery, Randy’s doctor warned that worsening of the situation could lead to permanent impotence. Marti asked, “Yes – but are there any negative side effects?”
“The adult Brookses abandoned any lingering pretense of dignity and self-respect and, to their daughters’ horror, entered the parallel universe of Facebook. We find this is actually a very useful tool…for finding out which of our acquaintances have no life, and for resurrecting those 1986 vacation photos.
“After this, our first semester as empty-nesters, it is especially joyful to have the family reunited for the holidays, enjoying that which is most meaningful to us at this special time of year: Kristi is texting, Libby is Facebooking, Marti is watching DOWN (the Disease of the Week Network,) and Randy is rearranging his beer closet.
“We’d like to transition this letter to a smooth closing, but it is necessary that we cease writing immediately, and run check on the wailing coming from the next room, where it sounds like someone is in great pain – either that, or Libby is playing her Celine Dion CDs. Why is it that on so many of her songs, Celine can be singing along just as pretty as you please, when suddenly it sounds like a flaming raccoon ran into the recording studio and jumped into her lap?
“But we know that if Celine were here, as soon as she beat herself out with a blanket, she would wish you, as we do, a joixeux Noel, and a happy new year, too.”
Randy, Marti, Libby, Kristi, Coco Bunny, & Winston the Maltie-Poo
Or, if you prefer an edgier version, check out this cut on We Wish You A Metal Xmas And A Headbanging New Year, released in 2008:
