Far for me to express any bit of disappointment when I heard the news of Baby, It’s Cold Outside was on the brink of extinction. As it should be, but not over manufactured motives. I just don’t like the song. Every holiday season, the song invades every holiday radio and playlist, sung by every notable and reputable duet in the music industry. It shows up in multiple genres, with a multitude of never ending styles; different tempos, instruments, and vocals. Since the original version, this song has be remodeled, reconfigured, and on repeat. Let me be the first the shout:
IT’S NOT THAT GREAT OF A SONG!
Please, it should die an agonizing death. It has abused its 15 minutes of fame, and someday: someone will get pneumonia and die.
Wow. What a horrible song.
But before the song goes extinct, I will defend it in one aspect:
The animosity for the song emerged under manufactured outrage. The metoo movement, one of the many manufactured movements specifically designed to create fictitious angst toward the Trump administration, is better known for ruining careers of (mostly) white men, than helping women who suffered under genuine dire circumstances. They cried “rape!” as they claim this song promotes date rape.
Women have DIED from domestic abuse…..and “metoo” is worried about a song?
To be clear, I do not support date rape in any capacity. However, this song exudes the signature style, glamour, promiscuity, and desire that permeated the era. Tall, dark, handsome men with cigars and cognac in hand, ready to smitten the properly fashioned, pristine young beauty so easily persuaded by masculine perfection. That was the sign of the times. To dismiss the song over lyrics that are reminiscent of that era would indicate there’s a whole other list of movies and music that ought to be over analyzed and then dismissed into exile.
According to its Wiki page, the origin is as follows:
During the 1940s, whenever Hollywood celebrities attended parties, they were expected to perform. In 1944, (Frank) Loesser wrote “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” to sing with his wife, Lynn Garland, at their housewarming party in New York City at the Navarro Hotel. They sang the song to indicate to guests that it was time to leave.
Sorry, metoo broads. You can’t rewrite history.
Additionally, this was the 1940’s. The war was still going on, and the masses gravitated to anything that would provide a sense of normalcy. As far as the general public were concerned, the song was highly adored in a time that was frightful and was always on high alert. Pearl Harbor happened just years earlier. The public wanted calm and normalcy, even if it only stayed in the realm of music and movies.
This song would later win an Academy Award for best original song.
To ban this song for “metoo” reasons is absolutely absurd. Besides, I’ve yet heard a peep from them in terms of rap music that habitually degrade women. HABITUALLY. So before these broads shoot their red flaming lips off, take a good, long look at yourselves and the publicity firm of which spawned your uptight coochies and ask yourselves, “am I really partaking in social justice if we were to select ONE song (out of millions) for the humiliation of our livelihood?”
The answer is NO.
The metoo movement. What a fucking joke. And I feel it’s important to note that this sentiment comes from a woman whose had her fair share of disadvantages. I worry for the good natured men who become entrapped by a female co worker who misinterpreted a glance as sexual favors. A misinterpretation that was influenced by the likes of these PR stunts and manufactured movements.
Until the metoo movement work to help women who suffered REAL damage from domestic abuse, I cannot take these broads seriously.
Baby, it’s full of disastrous humans outside.