Don’t expect a greeting. I’m the Grinch, after all. I have a reputation to maintain.

First of all, that slanderous movie came out in 1966. I’ve been putting up with this for 52 years and I think I’ve had just about enough.

While admittedly a catchy tune, this song is a train wreck that has sullied the Grinch name for far too long. Do you (I’m talking to you, writer Albert Hauge and you, singer, Thurl Ravenscroft) have any idea how hard it is to get a date when there’s a song telling the world how terrible you are? It’s no wonder it’s been over five decades and no Mrs. Grinch.

Me (on every single blind date): “Hi there, m’lady.”

Her: “Hi. What’s your name?”

Me (sighing openly): “Grinch”

Her: “Oh, like, that guy from that song?”

Me: “YES, JANET, I AM.”

And that usually does it. Maybe I should change my name to Ted. Come to think of it, I don’t know why I haven’t done that yet.

Let’s go through this atrocity of yours line by line.

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch. You really are a heel.”

A mean one I’ll give you. I broke into houses and stole ornaments off strangers’ Christmas trees. I get it. But a “heel?” This either is in reference to a foot, which is weird, or the meaning “dishonorable” which was an insult back in 1910. That was over 50 years BEFORE you wrote the song. Way to keep up on the “hip” lingo all the kids were using. Maybe in 60 more years you could weave “fleek” into it. This “insult” is so bad I actually feel sorry for you.

“You’re as cuddly as a cactus, you’re as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch.”

This is demonstrably false. You apparently know all about me (even though we’ve never met) to write a detailed song defaming my character so you must know that I’m incredibly fuzzy. I mean, have you even looked at my belly? And why are you judging eels? You probably haven’t even given an eel a chance, just because it looks “different.” Wow. Maybe go to dinner with an eel first or something before you judge.

“You’re a bad banana with a greasy black peel!”

I assume “bad banana” means overly ripe. Well, the joke’s on you. These are the sweetest types of banana and are sought after in deserts like banana bread, which pretty much everyone loves.

“You’re a monster, Mr. Grinch”

Monster is a bit harsh, don’t you think? Sure, I stole candy canes out of sleeping children’s hands, but it’s not like I put them in cages.

“Your heart’s an empty hole.”

First of all, the movie clearly shows that my heart is just two sizes too small, so it can’t be both small AND non-existent. And I’ll have you know what I have is called neurocirculatory asthenia, which is a documented medical condition. But by all means put it into at catchy little tune. What’s next? Are you going to sing a little ditty about that kid in Whoville who has type II diabetes?

“Your brain is full of spiders you’ve got garlic on your soul”

I guess I have to appreciate your descriptive analogies even though at this point it’s clear you’re struggling coming up with halfway decent insults. Honestly, it’s like you’re a 5-year-old that went into a rap battle with one good barb and decided to just wing it from there. Eminem would destroy you.

“I wouldn’t touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-inch pole”

What an oddly-specific length of pole. Do you actually have a pole of that size? Do you often touch other people with it? If so, why? Do you have poles of other lengths? Would you touch me with some of your other poles? Has it occurred to you that people (myself included) have no interest in being touched by your weird poles? Honestly.

“You’re a vile one, Mr. Grinch. You have termites in your smile.”

I don’t. Maybe a touch of gingivitis but not termites. They don’t survive well in this climate. Do your research.

“You have all the tender sweetness of a seasick crocodile, Mr. Grinch.”

Am I the only one that thinks it’s weird that you address me so formally after an insult? Is that your version of “Bless your heart?” And if the crocodile is anything like me when I’m seasick, I’m awfully docile and prefer to be cuddled.

“You’re a foul one, Mr. Grinch. You’re a nasty-wasty skunk.”

I’m going to just point out that the lyrics “nasty-wasty” made it by whatever editors and producers you had. It’s like you put them in as placeholders and just left them in because you ran out of time.

“Your heart is full of unwashed socks, your soul is full of gunk, Mr. Grinch.”

Again, thank you for addressing me as mister, I guess. And what happened to my garlic soul?

“The three words that best describe you are as follows: and I quote, stink, stank, stunk!”

Who are you quoting? Yourself? You start the sentence presuming to provide a list of adjectives but instead you list three verbs. Technically it’s the same verb, just three tenses. You really blew it here, I’m afraid. Maybe go take a single grammar class and try again.

This next verse is when we really get into it.

“You’re a rotter, Mr. Grinch. You’re the king of sinful sots.”

A “rotter?” Sure. Whatever. I have a dog, and someone that has a dog can’t be ALL bad, right? But calling me the king of sinful sots is implying I’m the king of a bunch of drunks. What kind of town do you think Whoville is? It’s clear you’ve never been here.

“Your heart’s a dead tomato splotched with moldy purple spots, Mr. Grinch.”

So now my heart is a dead tomato. I thought it was an empty hole? Or was it full of unwashed socks? You keep contracting yourself and coming back to the same tired insults. Despite your difficulty, I can’t overlook the “dead” tomato part. This opposed to a “live” one? I’m starting to think you don’t have any idea what hearts are. Or vegetables. And that brings us to this mess:

“Your soul is an appalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable, mangled up in tangled up knots!”

I love how you stop singing DURING A SONG just to lay into me with spoken insults. What did I ever do to you? Have I mentioned I have a dog?

“You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch. With a nauseous super naus.”

Maybe stop obsessing over me to the point where you write and perform a song about me? Just a suggestion. And I’m pretty sure “naus” isn’t a word. We noticed.

“You’re a crooked dirty jockey and you drive a crooked hoss, Mr. Grinch.”

I don’t own a horse. If I did, do you think I’d put antlers on my tiny dog and have him try and pull my getaway sleigh? And if I did, why would you assume I’d buy a crooked one instead of going to a reputable breeder?

“You’re a three-decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich with arsenic sauce!”

Just because you don’t like sauerkraut doesn’t mean other people don’t. Have you tried it on pizza? It’s fantastic. And arsenic sauce? Good heavens man! This is a children’s song and you’re singing about poison.

In the spirit of Christmas and over 50 years of punishment I, the Grinch, formerly apologize to you and anyone else I have wronged. At the end of the movie I DO end up giving everything back, you know. How much longer do I have to pay for making a bad decision? The people of Whoville have forgiven me. Maybe you could, too?

Your Grinchy friend,

-Ted (aka The Grinch)

P.S. What kind of name is “Thurl?”

——

Kelly Van De Walle can be reached at

vandkel@hotmail.com.