This afternoon as I write this article, the outside temperature is 10 degrees. I am in my three-quarters glass office and quite warm. Outside are several dozens of birds of many kinds: mourning doves, two blue jays, sparrows of various types, black-capped chickadees, woodpeckers, male and female cardinals and, I believe, a couple of grackles. And some little reddish bird too. The ones appear to be mated, the blue jay and cardinals, tend to always be together.
My wife the Beautiful AP came into the room and stood by the sliding doors to our deck. She was watching the wind whip through our trees.
I came up behind her and put my arms around her waist. And we both looked at the windy day from the security of a warm house.
I kissed her cheek and then I sang to her – heck I can be a romantic son of a gun. “But, baby, its cold outside” and I kissed her cheek again. And she turned, tilted her head (I love her head tilt) and I sang again, “But, baby, it’s cold outside,” and she slapped me.
“Woe, what the hell?”
“That song is sexist and should be retired,” she said.
“What are you talking about?” I said. “It’s a beautiful song and fits the weather today.”
She slapped me again.
“What the hell is with those slaps?”
“They are symbolic,” she said.
“Of what?” I said.
“Jeez,” I said.
“You are singing a song that might imply violence against women,” she said.
“What the hell? You have got to be kidding me,” I said. “It’s a love song. You know the male wants…”
“I know what the male wants but the female doesn’t want that.”
“Let’s go to the Internet and put the song on,” I said.
So we did. I thought the song was cute and flirty and had nothing whatsoever to do with violence against women. The self-righteous of the political left have demonized the song and my wife, despite her awesome intelligence, has fallen for the hoax.
We listened to it a second time.
“You don’t see what’s going on in the song?” she asked me. “She says ‘no, no, no.’”
“No,” I said. “She wishes she could say ‘no, no, no.’ But she can’t.”
“No,” said the Beautiful AP. “In another line she definitively says ‘no.’”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” I said. “I knew listening to NPR could give you erroneous ideas.”
“Plus she asks what’s in the drink. A date-rape drug isn’t ‘flirtatious’ now is it?” she countered.
“There’s no date rape drug. She was hinting that there might be alcohol in the drink. It’s flirty.” The Beautiful AP shook her head.
“Look, here’s how we settle this,” I said.
“We settle this because I am right,” she said.
“Wrong,” I said.
“I’m right,” she said.
I made a copy of the lyrics and we read them.
“Totally innocent and fun,” I said.
“An invitation to sexual abuse,” she said.
I looked out the window at our three bird feeders and noticed both Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal and Mr. and Mrs. Blue Jay eating up their food in the frigid air. They could be singing the song, “Birdie, Its Cold Outside,” or would they be fighting over the meaning of the damn thing?
Politics has become a form of religion, if you ask me. Soon everything will be banned. The left has become as righteous as the right. The song is not sexist; it’s flirtatious; nothing more. (Don’t tell my wife I wrote this last paragraph. I’m afraid she’ll slap me again.)
Dean Martin’s performance of the song:
Complete lyrics to the song:
(I really can’t stay) But, baby, it’s cold outside
(I’ve got to go away) But, baby, it’s cold outside
(This evening has been) Been hoping that you’d drop in
(So very nice) I’ll hold your hands they’re just like ice
(My mother will start to worry) Beautiful, what’s your hurry
(My father will be pacing the floor) Listen to the fireplace roar
(So really I’d better scurry) Beautiful, please don’t hurry
(Well, maybe just half a drink more) Put some records on while I pour
(The neighbors might think) Baby, it’s bad out there
(Say, what’s in this drink?) No cabs to be had out there
(I wish I knew how) Your eyes are like starlight now
(To break this spell) I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell
(I ought to say no, no, no, sir) Mind if I move in closer
(At least I’m gonna say that I tried) What’s the sense of hurting my pride
(I really can’t stay) Baby, don’t hold out
[Both] Baby, it’s cold outside
(I simply must go) But, baby, it’s cold outside
(The answer is no) But, baby, it’s cold outside
(The welcome has been) How lucky that you dropped in
(So nice and warm) Look out the window at the storm
(My sister will be suspicious) Gosh your lips look delicious
(My brother will be there at the door) Waves upon a tropical shore
(My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious) Gosh your lips are delicious
(But maybe just a cigarette more) Never such a blizzard before
(I got to get home) But, baby, you’d freeze out there
(Say lend me a coat) It’s up to your knees out there
(You’ve really been grand) I thrill when you touch my hand
(But don’t you see) How can you do this thing to me
(There’s bound to be talk tomorrow) Think of my life long sorrow
(At least there will be plenty implied) If you caught pneumonia and died
(I really can’t stay) Get over that hold out
[Both] Baby, it’s cold outside
Dear reader, what do you think? And remember, it’s okay to take my side!
Frank’s books are available on Amazon.com, Kindle, e-books, Barnes and Noble, and at bookstores.