This one will be short. I just wanted everyone to know that I’ve spent the better part of my afternoon trying to figure out which of these men, singing me Christmas songs, I love the most.
Is it the King of Rock and Roll, all bedroom eyes and crooning?
Or maybe Rhett, with the honky-tonk twang and unbelievably great rock star hair?
Or any of these four, circa 1967, looking sixties fab and harmonizing in Spanish?
Clearly it’s a difficult choice. Right this minute, I’m leaning towards Mike Naismith. I mean, Davy Jones was my very first crush ever, but how I overlooked Mike and the beanie cap he always wore, I have no idea. He’s clearly the brains of the operation. And he carries off some impressive sideburns.
I don’t know. I can’t work all of this out tonight. I have to go get dressed for the Jingle Ball. I am looking forward to putting on my most festive boots and hanging out with the girls, but I suspect there will be some bad dance music in my future. No matter. There is honky tonk ahead, too.