Baby, It’s Poe’s Law Outside

Baby, I’m fine with that…? 

No matter how often I reread this, I am unable to believe it is not a parody, and unable to credit that the songwriter couple is not trolling CNN.

http://www.cnn.com/2016/12/02/us/baby-its-cold-outside-cover-trnd/

The joke is that someone looked at the most sensual, seductive song in Christmas history “Baby It’s Cold Outside” and pretended that the comments and responses of a man seducing a woman is the same as coercion, that is, rape. The full crybully feminist hysteria followed, where unconvincing fools fool no one by pretending to be terrified of utterly nonexistent threats from the even more nonexistent patriarchy, who designed this song as a weapon mean to … do something bad, somehow, to someone. I am reminded of the intellectuals of Laputa, where, according to that most accurate of historians Johnathon Swift, they greeted each other each day by fretting and worrying about comets poised to pash the world to pieces.

Flattery is rape. The insanity involved in such a deduction is Orwellian, on the same order as saying Peace is War and Ignorance is Strength: by definition seduction cajoles, lures, insists, and enchants. Coercion is the opposite.

For those of you unfamiliar with the song, it is perhaps the most brilliant summation of the mating game between male and female imaginable.

Here is the original. For some reason, the filmmakers decided not to put the song in a setting where it was actually, you know, cold outside, but this is Ricardo Montalban and Esther Williams, back in the days when actors were handsome as hell and actresses divinely feminine. You will not see their like today.

So a couple wrote a parody of what it would sound like if a modern pajama boy Lefty denatured manboy tried to seduce a woman using the Leftwing rules of putting the woman in the man’s role of pursuer, and putting the boy in the woman’s role of pursued, with hilarious results.

Here are the lyrics:

I really can’t stay/Baby I’m fine with that
I’ve got to go away/Baby I’m cool with that
This evening has been/Been hoping you get home safe
So very nice/I’m glad you had a real good time
My mother will start to worry/Call her so she knows that you’re coming
Father will be pacing the floor/Better get your car a-humming
So really I’d better scurry/No rush.
Should I use the front or back door?/Which one are you pulling towards more?
The neighbors might think/That you’re a real nice girl
What is this drink?/Pomegranate La Croix
I wish I knew how/Maybe I can help you out
To break this spell/I don’t know what you’re talking about
I ought to say no, no, no/you reserve the right to say no
At least I’m gonna say that I tried/you reserve the right to say no
I really can’t stay/…Well you don’t have to
Baby it’s cold outside
I’ve got to get home/Do you know how to get there from here
Say, where is my coat/I’ll go and grab it my dear
You’ve really been grand/We’ll have to do this again
Yes I agree/How ’bout the Cheesecake Factory?
We’re bound to be talking tomorrow/Text me at your earliest convenience
At least I have been getting that vibe/Unless I catch pneumonia and die
I’ll be on my way/Thanks for the great night

Wow. Painful. She’s been friendzoned in the worst possible way. Small wonder Leftwing women have fantasies about Arab harems, Nazi officers in their snappy black uniforms, and the planet Gor.

Any girl attracted to a man who escorted her politely out the door on a cold night at her first token protest would be gravely insulted, and never speak  to the dweeb again. He would die a virgin and the Darwinian future of the race would achieve a small but finite gain.

It is painfully obvious that the boy is trying his damnest to shoo the girl away, that he is hovering between indifference and revulsion for her, and that she is a fool for not catching his hint. How else do you read lyrics like this without dissolving into laughter?

I’ve got to get home/Do you know how to get there from here?

It could not be more obvious if the line had read:

When I exit, the door will shut/Let it not smack you in the butt!

or

I ought to say no, no, no / you reserve the right to say no

should read

I ought to say no, no, no / My waifu sim is waiting. Just go.

How girls expect boys to chase them if they do not run away is a mystery to me. How any girl can maintain her self esteem and self respect if the boy is not madly in love enough to chase her is also a mystery.

How she could feel anything but hate toward a boy who was deflected by the first mild rebuff is a mystery squared.

Is there a woman alive who thinks a quitter is sexy, or makes good material for a mate? The lady cannot tell if the gentleman is actually sincere unless he is given obstacles to overcome.

But I cannot tell whether the songwriters here are the perpetrators of this the absurd mockery of love and romance, or the victims.

Here is the runner up for most seductive Christmas song, voiced by the inimitable Ertha Kitt.

Do I need to explain this song to feminists also? Women like a mate who is a good provider. Either that, or she is Catwoman, scheming to winkle a platinum mine from Santa. Note that she asks for a ring, that is, marriage. That used to be an institution around these parts. Back when women had modesty, class, confidence, and something to offer a man.

Please note that the first seductive song was from a 1949 film, and this purring excess of sensuality comes from 1953. If anyone is curious as to why girls from this period were far more sexy and seductive than their modern counterparts, I can explain it.

What a relief it will be when the fad and madness of Leftism recedes into history, and is studied, if at all, only by psychiatrists.

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