I don't like Bing Crosby anymore. Actually, I never did think he was any great shakes, and then the stories about his treatment of his sons began to surface and I guess I used that for an excuse to stop listening to something I never thought was that wonderful anyway.
Back in the day, I couldn't stand to see him in romantic leads in movies. He was so . . . so . . . puny. And not exactly heart-throb material . . . by any stretch of the imagination.
So why do they keep cramming him down my throat?
I have a station I'm tuned in for on my car and for some reason the powers-that-be have decided to entertain me with Bing Crosby Christmas songs for the remainder of the season instead of what I want to hear.
Yes, I'll exercise my rights and turn the knob . . . but I really did want to bitch about it before I changed the station.
And since I hate snow . . . I never dreamed of a white Christmas anyway!
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