‘Tis the season again for being bombarded with really weird Christmas songs that we all sing along to, but haven't really given the underlying message a second thought. So you know what that means, it's time for overanalyzing another Christmas song that you can NEVER EVER hear again without your mind going to a very dark place.
In the past, I've tackled "The Little Drummer Boy" (I get the sense that little guy is tackled more than a Vatican City altar boy) and the ultra rapey, "Baby, It's Cold Outside." This year, I thought we'd analyze the overly-sexualized and materialistic hookerish song "Santa Baby," written in 1953 by Joan Javits and Philip Springer.
It's important to note that this song was originally sung by Eartha Kitt, but then Madonna found a way to make it even more creepy and disturbing by doing it in a little girl Betty Boop voice. So basically, what we've got here is someone with a little girl voice singing to what can only (in reality) be her dad, dressed up as Santa—or in other words, "EWWWW!"
Yup, that's Santa quite literally offering Madonna his balls.
"Santa Baby"
Song Analysis
Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me,
I've been an awful good girl.
Few people actually realize that a sable is a fur, which if you consider it a euphemism, it means she wants him to slip it into her furry area, under the tree. In addition, the whole creepy "Dear Daddy, little girl" vibe is established immediately.
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
I mean, this article almost writes itself. A chimney… a dark, tight, warm opening that he slips in and out of, in order to deliver his package.
Santa baby, an outer-space convertible too, light blue,
I'll wait up for you dear.
It's fairly clear that this song is about whoring yourself out for material items, which in and of itself is disturbing, but I'm even more disturbed by the inflation over the last sixty years. Apparently, a ‘54 convertible isn't even enough anymore, now the car has to be able to fly to outer-space!
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Take it easy there, eager beaver, he has to figure out what the fuck an outer-space convertible is first.
Think of all the fun I've missed.
If by "fun" you mean dignity, then yes, I see your point.
Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed.
Am I the only one who gets the sense that she's already been kissed by a lot of men?
Next year I could be oh so good,
Call me crazy, but I don't think this girl will ever get off the naughty list.
If you'd check off my Christmas list.
Boo doo bee doo.
Okay, someone needs to tell her that baby talk is NOT sexy, unless you're into fucking babies and if that's the case, what the hell is wrong with you?!
Santa honey, I wanna yacht and really that's
Not a lot.
Well maybe not next to a car that can go into outer-space, it's not. Wait, no, it still is you materialistic bint.
I've been an angel all year,
Please note: Wearing Victoria's Secret lingerie all year doesn't make you an angel.
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Calm your tits, his fucking sleigh doesn't even go into outer-space, this car shit is gonna take some time.
Santa cutie, there's one thing I really do need, the deed,
This line takes on a whole new meaning when you think of it as "doing the deed." Yeah, we got it, you want to do the deed with Santa (otherwise known as your Dad).
To a platinum mine.
Wait, you want to fuck a platinum mine? Suddenly, fucking your dad is starting to seem less weird.
Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Jesus Christ, woman, do you have any idea how complicated an outer-space car really is to make? Have some fucking patience, would you?
Santa baby, and fill my stocking with a duplex, and checks
Sign your "X" on the line.
I'm assuming that "stocking" in this case means her cooka, which we all know she wants Santa to fill, but apparently she wants it with a duplex. Filling her stocking with a duplex is obviously a reference to double penetration, since a duplex is a place with two separate resident entrances. Also, in case you were at all confused at this point, of her whorish tendencies, she takes payment for services and even accepts checks… classy.
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.
Seriously, you've waited all year, you can wait a little longer while he gets the logistics of lift and thrust worked out for both you and the car.
Come and trim my Christmas tree,
Fuck that noise, trim your own Christmas tree, or go and get it waxed or something.
With some decorations bought at Tiffany's.
Does Tiffany's even make clit rings?
I really do believe in you
Let's see if you believe in me
Boo doo bee doo.
I'm not going to lie, I often find myself saying, "Is this bitch for real?! I suspect Santa would say the same thing. Also, again, just stop with the baby talk, it's gross."
Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing, a ring
No, you mentioned the clit ring, to decorate your Christmas tree area.
I don't mean on a phone.
Yes, we got it! For fuck's sake! You want a clit ring from Tiffany's to decorate your over-grown bush. Now shut the hell up about it.
Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight
Come on, you had to know there were going to be some extra permits to file for an outer-space car.
Hurry down the chimney tonight.
I mean, those lines at the DMV are worse than the lines on Black Friday.
Hurry down the chimney tonight.
Don't worry, I'm sure he'll cum… eventually, but, for real, it will happen much faster if you stop the baby talk.
We all know Madonna has father issues, but I didn't know she had Father Christmas issues.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! May you NEVER be able to listen to "Santa Baby" the same way again, which is my very special gift to all of you that you can't return for something else, even if you wanted to.