I completed biochemotherapy treatments a few days before Thanksgiving 2003, and about two weeks or so later my appetite returned with a vengeance. I was looking more than a bit skeletal at this point, so my oncologist’s instructions were “if it tastes good, eat it, and don’t worry about your cholesterol”. I gladly complied. How often does a fifty-year-old guy get a culinary green light from a physician, particularly during the holiday season?
I don’t recall whether a Swiss Colony Beef Log was one of the many, many unhealthy items I consumed during that season of feeding frenzy. But since our Hotel Melanoma chaplain dared me to do South Park’s song about that Christmas delicacy, I just can’t say no…
Clothing is hung on a thin me
And the snowflakes are fallin’ on trees.
And my wife’s in the kitchen
Making some shots for me.
My brain is covered in fog
And neurons are not alight
But as I stagger through this quiet house
Something just doesn't seem right
You see, every year the boss man sends us
A Swiss Colony Beef Log.
But the job isn’t around (around, around)
And there's no beef log to be found this year.
Christmas, isn't Christmas
Without a Swiss Colony Beef Log.
Without those cheeses and meat
I don't think I can get along.
My doctor tries to comfort me
He says 'Here son, have some Ensure'
I freakin’ hate Ensure, seriously…
But what do I see?
Underneath our tree?
In-laws sent a Swiss Colony Beef Log
Just for me! aaah, aaaaah, aaaaaah, in-laws!
Swiss Colony Beef Log, baby
That's what Christmas is all about!
A roly-poly Colony Beef Log, daily
Makes a boomer boy scream and shout!
Deck the halls with with boughs of Swiss Colony.
Fa-la-la-la-la, laa-laa-laa-laaaa! ..sweet!