Comedian, musician, podcaster and Nashvillian Chris Crofton asked the Scene for an advice column, so we gave him one. Crowning himself the “Advice King,” Crofton will share his hard-won wisdom with whosoever seeks it. Follow Crofton on Facebook and Twitter, and to submit a question for the Advice King, email bestofbread[at]gmail[dot]com or editor[at]nashvillescene[dot]com.
Dear Advice King,
Please update the lyrics to “The Twelve Days of Christmas” for modern times. I know this isn’t “advice,” but maybe you can do something interesting. I’m sick of the old lyrics.
Thanks,
—James in Washington, D.C.
Sure!
On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — HEALTH CARE. I wish! Just FYI, the defense budget for next year is slated to be $858 billion. That’s the devil. You want to know what the devil is? It’s that.
On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — TWO BIG HUGS. They felt good.
On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — THREE TAX HIKES. Raise taxes on the wealthiest. It’s what Jesus would do. Billionaires are classic false idols.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — FOUR REMINDERS THAT I’M ENOUGH. I’m still not convinced. I feel like I might be getting there, though.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — FIVE. That’s right — five. Her hand, that is. To hold.
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — SIX GEESE-A-LAYING. I told her to return them immediately. She said, “I’m sorry. I got the idea from some song.”
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — SEVEN DOLLARS. She sent me out to buy a six-pack of NA beer.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — EIGHT MAIDS-A-MILKING. The porn movie. We both love porn.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — NINE KISSES. This holiday season, every time you want to check your phone, kiss someone instead.
On the 10th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — 10 THERAPY APPOINTMENTS. Go to therapy, creeps. Figure out why you’re so mad at transgender people — they never did a damn thing to you.
On the 11th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — 11 PIPERS PIPING. That’s right, she invited eleven pot smokers over to our house. They told us all of their crazy ideas, and then they fell asleep without brushing their teeth.
On the 12th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me — 12 FULL DISCLOSURES: I DON’T HAVE A TRUE LOVE. OK, it’s only one full disclosure. “Twelve full disclosures” makes no sense, because if it’s a “full” disclosure.
[lords leap, swans swim, world explodes]
It’s hard to fall in love in America. It’s hard to trust yourself enough. America raises its children to deny their feelings. Here’s an example:
When I was growing up, I was forced to play baseball. I was terrible at baseball, and I was constantly embarrassed. But I was expected to play, so I continued to play — for years. I eventually managed to convince myself that I was fine. I wanted to please the coaches — the adults — running the games. I denied my feelings. I absorbed humiliation after humiliation, in order to please ADULTS. Adults, who should have known better than to put A CHILD through that. The same thing had happened to them, I’m sure. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
Years later, in relationships, I did the same thing. I pretended I was OK in situations where I wasn’t, to avoid conflict. At best, my inability to communicate left my partners confused. At worst, it led to me remaining in abusive relationships.
This Christmas, break the cycle. Be honest with yourself, and be honest with others. Forgive yourself, and forgive others. Listen to yourself, and listen to others. Let’s all fall in love again — and do it even better this time!
Also, don’t forget to sing this entire new version of "The Twelve Days of Christmas," as a family — including the last four paragraphs.
