They don't think about it. They just stick it on like they did the year before and all the years before that, and they'll continue to stick it on as long as they have the strength to press the play button. In some dystopian future where civilisation has collapsed under the weight of all the useless, unwanted, non-degradable crap everybody bought every Christmas for years and years, there is a ransacked, burnt out department store filled with lifeless corpses in Santa hats and piles of smoking rubble strewn with tinsel, and in the corner a crackly old speaker is still playing fucking Paul Mcartney siiimply haaaaving a wonderful Christmas tiiime. Merry Christmas everybody.