Baby, It’s Not Cozy Outside – Stream of Consciousness Saturday #SoCS

It is far from warm and cozy outside.

Sweettinybabyjesusborn2022yearsagotomorrowbyyourvirginmotherstitsitscold.

I haven’t been this cold since a deer-hunting trip to Brownsville, Texas when I was in high school – must’ve been 1986. Plus side: shot two deer. Down side: froze my ass off, sub 10 degree in daylight, no heat (other than a wood-burning stove), and cold water shower.

Mmmmmmmm, venison. Bambi tastes good!

So today’s prompt for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday is:

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “cozy.’” Use it any way you like. Have fun! (And Merry Christmas if I don’t come back before then!)

My feet and calves are cozy as they’re being massaged by my lower leg/foot air massager thing. Makes me feel even more cozy as I sip tea and they show the outside locations for many of the NFL games on all the preview shows.

Oh. My.

Can’t believe anyone would want to sit outside today and watch football — watched LSU in the winter of 93 at 19 degrees and whatever with the wind chill. Wore panty hose, which did help some. NOT COZY!

After I type this, going to work on tidying my house and making it warm and cozy for Christmas day. Going to get a little bit of cooking done before tomorrow so I just need to make the turkey. Today, I’ll be smelling roasted pecans, bacon-wrapped sausages, and going to make some Pawpan’s dip. Candles. Maybe a bit of incense. New, clean sheets to replace the freaking “oh, let’s burrow under the sheets and leave fur behind” covered current set courtesy of boxer idiots 1 and 2.

I also vehemenently disagree with the criticisms of “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” The ahistorical, stripping of context, bullshit slander directed against this song bugs me (if you couldn’t tell).

I’ve always thought it a nicely flirtacious song of a woman wanting to stay (“say, what’s in this drink” — which is not about a date-rape drug being slipped in there) and the dude wooing her to stay (

“Boss! Da Plane! Da Plane!”

(You’ll giggle when you get it.)

I think this is the original version of the song — fast forward to 2:31 or so for a lyric reversal with Red Skelton.

The same composer, Loessig, wrote this (I’d like to get you) On a Slow Boat to China in 1948. Cuz, you know, those morally upstanding folks back then never engaged in fornication or anything. OK, now isn’t the time for a diatribe about freaking old people bitching about the immorality of youth. Especially people my age — motherfuckers, I know how we were all talking about chicks in the 80s — and we’d’ve been all over pornhub and tiktok, don’t even pretend not.

Anyway. Thinking cozy thoughts and here’s the Ella Fitzgeral version, which I prefered over the Dean Martin one. Dean always sounds effortless, but too often lazy at the same time. Though, one of my favorite scenes in a Western is from Rio Bravo when he sings with Ricky Nelson — which, how freaking cool is that? I had to watch that so it’s embedded after Ella. And, related to nothing else, El Dorado (also starring John Wayne and directed by John Hawkes) is essentially the same movie as Rio Bravo with less singing and James Caan as the young kid instead of Ricky Nelson. Both excellent, excellent Westerns! Though McClintock might be my favorite John Wayne Western, the great Katherine O’Hara as his estranged wife. The final scene is a LOT retro and an afront to modern day sensibilities. However, if you can momentarily pull your panties from the crack of your ass, still funny.

Hmmmm, I should watch a Western, it’s been a while. Anyway, I digress . . . your musical interludes for the day, should you so choose.