Christmas isn't what you think it is. It isn't contained within the waking, sometimes sleepless days of the yuletide season; it doesn't simply begin and end at those polar midnights of late December. It's not quantifiable by tallying cards and presents, not merely a protracted spree of buying and giving, wrapping and tearing, hugging and crying. Christmas, really, is more akin to music or memory than the temporal here and now; even when it's not loudly ringing out, even when it happened so long ago, you carry it within you to summon against the darkness, holding it tight against the quiet and the cold. It's something you know as a child and try your absolute hardest to forget as an adult, but the truth is that Christmas is truly, deeply, embarrassingly about that one special thing: it's love, actually.

Now, this is a story all about how Galinda's actually Glinda now

And we're talking bout Wicked

Massive hit of the year

So take a break from all your worries and lend us an ear

On the stages of Broadway, born and raised

Where this musical originated back in the days

Of George Bush, Usher and low-rise jeans

It sure was a hit of grandiloquent means

Elphaba's green, and people are mean

"What's up with that?" I suppose you might scream

Well it's a metaphor, stupid, for prejudiced people

And how rejecting diversity can be terribly lethal

Wicked Wicked Wicked, what a crazy little movie

Chic-a chic-a chic-a, scooby dooby dooby

F is for the way the snow falls fast

R is recording a film podcast

O is "Oh my gracious, this is so outrageous!"

Z is the zillion times we've all heard Elsa's sing-song rhymes

So E's enough of the poem mode

N so now we can listen to the episode

[Sung to the tune of L-O-V-E but then it just sorta falls apart, I guess]

Enjoy the latest Throw in the Pal!