The Bulldog Pub is one of my favorite places in Zagreb. I love the company of thieves and whores who make it their home. The daily show is a delight in its own right. However, it is becoming unbearable just before the Christian holidays. The place is not only crammed most of the time, but the music that goes round and round is also atrocious. They somehow got a large collection of American songs to mark the season. Subjected to the same strains day after day, I wonder how long I can endure the torture. Teutonic to boot, the music itself is nigh unbearable, but the words are occasionally even worse. A while after I escaped the place, a jumble of lines still plagues my mind: Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer; jingle bells, jingle bells; under the Christmas tree; the most wonderful time of the year; Santa Klaus is coming down the chimney tonight; happy holidays to all; and all our troubles will be out of sight… The music is a joke of sorts, of course. And yet, I cannot imagine enduring it any longer. The bad taste, the tenacity, and the stupidity of the American Christmas songs are sure to drive me far, far away. Kabul beckons, no less.