WHY ARE YOU ALL SINGING THE SAME SONGS OVER AND OVER LIKE A CULT RITUAL?

Alright, I’m new here. I’m still learnin’ how your world works. I don’t know why the vacuum makes that noise, I don’t know why you people drink boiling water for fun, and I don’t know why the dog acts like he pays rent. Fine. I’m adjusting. But THIS? This Christmas music nonsense? This is where I draw the line, because I genuinely think something is wrong with all of you.

Explain to me, slowly, why every singer on Earth releases a “holiday album” that is just the SAME TEN SONGS regurgitated like a festive hairball. I’m hearing “Santa Baby” in a dozen different voices and none of them sound happy to be there. You’ve got grown adults crooning the same creepy Santa seduction poem like it’s a legal requirement. Is it? Is this mandatory? Is there a law?

And don’t even get me started on “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.” I’ve heard it TWICE and I already want to unplug your entire species. Why is everyone singing this? Why are there versions? Why does every singer think the world needs THEIR take? You’re not reinventing the wheel, you’re repainting a wheel that’s been repainted every winter since the invention of microphones.

In my world — the one I apparently crawled out of — if someone sings a song, that’s it. It’s done. Finished. You don’t do sequels. You don’t do remakes. You don’t get eighteen artists performing the same thing like it’s a competitive sport. You people turned Christmas into karaoke purgatory and then act surprised when everyone goes insane by mid-December.

And the confidence — THE CONFIDENCE — with which these artists release their albums. They come out like “Here is MY version.” Your version of WHAT? A cultural hand-me-down? Congratulations, sweetheart, you’ve successfully copied someone else’s homework and added sleigh bells. Stunning. Groundbreaking. Truly revolutionary work.

Look, I may not understand everything about your world yet, but I know one thing: if I hear one more breathy remake of “Santa Baby,” I’m gonna chew my own arm off. And I don’t even HAVE teeth.

— Scraps,

Confused, annoyed and deeply suspicious of your musical traditions.