With my emphases:
God bless you merry gentlemen, my aunt Fanny.
Welcome to the most wonderful time of the year (stop singing that!). Yes, it's ...advent. A blessed, quiet time of waiting, repentance, and hope. So once again, I'm walking into the grocery store all ahush with pure anticipation, and bombarded by Christmas muzak. It makes me feel like a sleazy liturgical strumpet, when all I wanted to do was buy some wholesome organic milk and bread, dang it.
Why am I so in the bleak midwinter about this (stop singing that!!!)? See, some of us like advent. The hush and quiet of it. O Come Emmanuel, Maranatha, etc. But more to the point, some of us like Christmas! On Christmas Day! And for the next 12 days! Celebrating with abandon the Incarnation! Hark the Herald...(STOP IT!).
Christmas is just wrong without the anticipation. It's cheap grace. Christmas music in November is intrinsically disordered.
To that end, I encourage everyone to go tell it on the mountain (STOP! STOP! STOP singing that!) that intentional listening to Christmas music in November is the liturgical equivalent of premarital sex. Tempting stuff but bad news.
It's a slippery slope, dashing through this snow (AUGHHHHH! STTTTTOPPPPPP ITTTT!). But if we don't nip this temptation in the bud, the next thing you know, your parish plays "Jingle Rock Rock" at midnight mass. Drastic times call for drastic measures. Listening to Christmas music before Christmas Day is like engaging in premarital sex. You will regret it.
Peace and blessings. And I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus.