At the risk of self-referencing one too many times before the year is out, last week's column featured a plea for young and old to unite and make Mariah Carey's Christmas something to remember before her career swings back the other way and she finds herself Frances Farmered into a sanatorium.
It's one of the many good things for humanity I've done which will undoubtedly get overlooked when the Rapture arrives and I'm shepherded, for all eternity, into my one-bedroom apartment in suburban Gehenna, with roommates Chad Kroeger, Steven Page, Matthew Good, Ryan Malcolm and a chaste Lindsay Lohan.
So, with that fate staring me down, let's see if we can't swing things slightly the other way -- maybe unchastening Lindsay just a little, and chubbing her back up slightly -- with some more Christmas tidings for the minstrels of the world.
In other words, it's time for the annual "To (insert name of famous musician here): I wish (insert obvious gag here)" column.
You'll, of course, recognize the device -- it's one of those things that we hacks do in order to bang out an easy 500 words when too many eggnog and lighter fluid cocktails have sent construction elves scurrying into our cranium and lower colon with power tools and Three Stooges blueprints.
So here, in the stead of something that requires thought on either of our parts, I give you a list of Christmas wishes to the hard-to-buy-for pop star on everyone's list.
To Britney Spears: I wish you and your child from virgin birth (if I deny it, it means it never happened) nothing but the best in 2006. That includes power-hosing that slackjawed barnacle you call a husband from your hull and getting back to doing what you do best -- open-mouth kissing elderly women and lip-synching computer-generated pop songs.
To Chris Martin from Coldplay: I wish you would cheer the hell up. Dude, you're making babies with Gwyneth Paltrow -- you should be high-fiving every man, woman and child you meet and writing songs so syrupy and upbeat they'd make a Care Bear puke.
To Gwen Stefani: I wish for a fresh batch of Harajuku girls that actually come with instructions -- no water, no food after midnight and no bright light. Oh, and it also helps to punch a breathing hole in their crates when transporting them overseas.
To Courtney Love: I wish another big bag of crazy for you, baby. You're too far gone in the looks and sanity departments to attract a new muse (i.e. a musician with actual talent to ghostwrite your songs for), so let's all just sit back and enjoy your zany ride down the drain.
To Ashlee Simpson: I wish all of the haters, naysayers and critics would get off your back and leave you alone. They should be able to recognize your considerable talent which is, quite frankly, as plain as your face.
To all American and Canadian Idols and runners-up: I wish you well in the service industry, which is where most of you will eventually wind up. And throw into that some lotion in case all of that polyester and those paper hats chafe.
To Green Day: God help me, but I wish a Jeb Bush presidency in 2008. If American Idiot is what you come up with under George W.'s reign, I can only imagine how good it gets with four more years of your country trying not to drown in that gene pool.
And, finally, to the aforementioned Mr. Kroeger: I wish a speedy end to the current lawsuit with former drummer Ryan Vikedal. I hope the courts in their infinite wisdom rule in your favour and name you the sole originator of all Nickelback's material. The reason? Because I think someone should be held fully accountable for what you've wrought unto this world. And, besides, with that ruling in your back pocket, I'm pretty sure I'll be minus one roommate as you take your rightful place at Belial's side.
