Turning Shit into Gold since 2006
“I have always been haunted by the thought of being visited by carolers.”
If I was the kind of person who enjoyed exposing my deepest, darkest, most insecure secrets on a television show my angle for sympathy would center around my semi irrational fear of having carolers come a-wassailing at my front door. Give me ghosts, solicitors, encyclopedia salesmen, religious zealots, or any other form of unwanted door-step guests, just spare me the stress of carolers belting cheery songs outside my home.
What kind of person in 1800 whatever was hoping to open their front door to a pack of off pitch losers singing seasonal hits? It was a hassle then and it is an equally unappealing scenario now. Fighting off Plains Indians sounds more desirable then having to awkwardly greet Mr. Blacksmith and Mrs. School teacher, both singing what they thought was a catchy melody in hopes of being offered a cup of hot cider or a fresh biscuit from the hearth.
You would think that this annoying holiday tradition would have been stifled over the course of time, but somewhere along the way the obnoxious door-to-door activity seems to still be revived with every annual rising of the Fraser Fir.
Next time you hear your doorbell ring and you assume it is simply the mailman or the casual drifting salesman, pause a moment and ask yourself if you really want to face what could possibly be on standing on your porch. The only repellent against carolers is avoidance of eye contact and total ignorance of their craft. Shun the doorbell and duck under the dinning room table for preferred results.