It is, once more, that most magical time of the year.
Time for network television to again broadcast one of the most wildly effed up TV movies to ever pass itself off as family holiday entertainment.
Rudolph. The non-reindeer deer with the bleating lightbulb for a nose.
Every holiday season, Lisa and I tune in, at least once, when it airs. As I have done pretty much every year, since I can remember. And more with every passing year, I marvel, how? Just … how? What morally malignant bastard crouched in a tiny mildewed room with a bottle of cheap gin and a deadline, and dreamed up this mildly fascist animated fever dream with its horrifying soundtrack of tinsel-dipped strings?
The whole thing is almost comically sexist. It’s xenophobic, when not outright misanthropic. It’s ceaselessly cruel. Practically every character is petty and malicious and, frankly, horrible, or else wretchedly maudlin, to the point of being psychotic.
“You’ll never fit in!” — Lead Elf, to Hermey.
Not to mention that Santa Claus is a total dick. Ho, ho, holy hell.
And that doesn’t even take into account Yukon Cornelius …
Dude has a poodle as a sled dog. He’s a prospector, in endless snow. There’s that lewd tongue thing he defaults to, like porn with a pickaxe. And don’t even get me started on whatever twisted deal the greedy red-headed freak has going with that tethered toothless Bumble.
And, really, how does the footless singing snowman move? And why does he always have that g’damn umbrella?
And what’s up with Hermey’s non-pointy ears and non-Pinocchio nose? And why is he the only one of this kind with hair? So is he really not one Santa’s interchangeable toy-making pixies, and perhaps the true origin story of Will Ferrell’s Buddy character in Elf?
And is Charlie-in-the-Box really such a consummate nitwit that he can’t figure out to just change his freakin’ name?
And FFS, how did that dingy un-buoyant snow monster develop such a robust taste for fresh pork up there at the North Pole?
And. And. And.
And I give up. I just plain give up. Till next year, anyway, or the next airing before this particular Christmas season breathes its last. Cuz I’ll watch it all over again, pretty much every time it comes on. Hell if I even know why.
It’s like the closeted non-elf would-be-dentist sings:
“Why am I such a nitwit?”
Somehow or other, I just know this hateful holiday trainwreck helps explain Donald Trump.
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