"Last Christmas" Doesn't Make Any Sense

You can try to deny it, but as much as you claim to "hate Christmas music", you probably have at least a medium-sized soft spot in your heart for classic festive jingles. Luckily, there are many stellar and much-loved Xmas songs on the radio these days. To name a few, there's the right-wing favorite "White Christmas"; there's "Santa Claus is coming to town"; and even "Santa Baby"—the prelude to all known homegrown naughty elf blowjobs in history. What they all have in common - and it's rather upsetting that I have to spell this out - is that they're actually about Christmas.

"Last Christmas", however, is a straight up imposter. The hit song has now been polluting the airwaves for 30 years, in spite of the fact that a) it's a horrible song and b) it most definitely isn't about Christmas. Rather, it's about a delusional prick who just happens to be heartbroken during the jolliest of seasons.

In the interest of convincing even the greatest of skeptics, let me point out another track that won't be transformed into a jolly classic despite taking place around the holiday season: "Last Christmas you licked my neck/ My back/ My pussy and my crack." See? No amount of reindeer or arbitrary gift giving will make you want to dance around the tree to that.

To ensure you won't endure this sham of a song next year, allow me to break down all the reasons why you should turn your back on Wham! and get back to the classics this holiday season.

IT'S ABOUT A COMPLETE DICK…
​Giving your "heart" to someone on Christmas is rather inconsiderate and beyond clingy. It's the one day a year you're with your friends and family, everyone brimming with platonic love and material envy. Not only is that a horrible setup for declaring your eternal love to some unsuspecting soul, but George also robs the poor girl of the chance to enjoy Jesus' birthday. Poor form mate.​

WITH SERIOUS EMOTIONAL ISSUES
​This next bit explains the depth of George's emotional disorder: "This year/ To save me from tears/ I'll give it to someone special." Apparently, he suffers from some sort of compulsive need to court some random chick every Christmas. This year, though, he has the sudden stroke of genius to finally get at someone "special". Jeez, George. Maybe next year, you should power down the creep factor and get drunk with grandpa like the rest of us.

IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE
​"Tell me baby/ Do you recognize me?/ Well, it's been a year/ It doesn't surprise me." Our love-crazed protagonist should give himself a little more credit. After all, it's only been a year since he ruined Christmas—so yeah, she'll remember him, alright. That stuff scars you for life.

MAILING STUFF ISN'T NEARLY AS ROMANTIC AS IT SOUNDS
​Then there's this line about how he "Wrapped it up and sent it/ With a note saying 'I love you'/ I meant it." First of all, this doesn't align with the music video at all: the video clearly depicts him giving the girl a diamond brooch (always a smash hit with the ladies) in person. And hate to break it to you, George, but mailing stuff has about as much romantic gravitas as midget wrestling. For example, do you remember that scene from Sleepless in Seattle where Tom Hanks sends Meg Ryan a diamond brooch for Valentine's Day, to be delivered to her on top of the Empire State building? Of course you don't, because that would have been stupid.

IT ENCOURAGES FOLKS TO TALK ABOUT THEMSELVES IN THIRD PERSON
​Since the age of the Roman Empire, two things have been true: don't fuck with guys named Jesus and don't talk about yourself in third person. It makes you come across as a bit of douche. But if you do decide to go down that road, go all the way. Don't settle for some weak backhanded compliment like, I don't know, that you have the "face of a lover." It makes people wonder what kind of body lies south of the visage—that of a butler? A couch? A horse? Because that would make him a centaur, and that would actually be super cool.

BUT MAYBE MR. MICHAEL REALLY SORT OF OUTED HIMSELF, IN WHICH CASE KUDOS
On the other hand, George may have hinted at his then-secret homosexuality: "A man under cover/ But you tore me apart." I'm not one to determine if cheesy pop lyrics are the best medium for coming out or not, but we're glad he eventually did. In fact, I hope the song helped him gain the courage to do so because that would almost justify its existence—and we wouldn't all be total morons for listening to it for 30 days a year.