Peach and I were shopping for her "Teacher Sweaters" on Friday. We came into the store, and there was a re-make of Paul McCartney's "Wonderful Christmas Time". I guessed it was probably Hilary Duff, Ashley Simpson, or some other pop-princess: it was terrible. TERRIBLE. I stood completely still in the store, head up, looking for the speakers, as though I could destroy the source of the sound if only I could find it. Then, the song was over, and it was time to look for clothes. I did my best, finding all sorts of styles and fashions that, apparently, scared one of the shopgirls, and then I was left alone in the body of the store.
And the song came on again. Three. Songs. Later. Same crappy voice, same pop-punk guitar riffs, same lack of soul. I mean, I thought Sir Paul was soulless when he sang the original, but this was something else. Pitch-corrected voice, Avril-Lavigne-style guitar crunches, faux-syncopated chorus: it's enough to turn a man into a Grinch.
(I Googled today to find out the identity of the misguided young singer who had chosen to record the song. My first instinct was correct: Hilary Duff. I thought I'd feel better knowing who the singer was. I don't; I now have one more person to add to my list of People Who Should Be Kept Far, FAR Away From Me.)