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Santa's a Dick and other Christmas Specials
2004-12-25 01:01
Growing up with a manic-depressive father, Christmas day was a mixed bag. While it was exciting to get gifts, I also knew that if the gift was really great, it came with strings attached. For example, when I was 12 I received a moped. Just like any boy this age, I was ecstatic, but it was tempered by knowing for the rest of the year, I would get to hear, "Go out and paint the house or fix the lawn mower, because I bought you a moped for Christmas." (Author's note: My dad did have a 12 year old (me) paint our house and he thought I should instinctually be a master mechanic.) Some more background on the moped was it was not made by Honda or Suzuki, but made by McCullough, the chain saw company. It was the Yugo of mopeds, being started only by pedaling quickly and then flipping a lever on the back of the moped to kick the engine. It was not to be driven by anyone over 190 pounds, which my Dad had beat by 40 pounds, but it didn't stop him from driving it to work on a consistent basis. Well, the thing broke down after a few months (surprise) and that was the end of my great Christmas present. I have stories like this for almost every year of my early childhood, but at this point you might be asking, "are you doing some kind of self-help therapy on the blog, because if you are, it's kind of creepy and definitely pathetic." No, the reason I brought it up was to make you feel better about any holiday blues you might be suffering, while also leading in to the main subject of my post, Christmas specials. In a parallel story, an elf named Hermie has thoughts of being a dentist, instead of working the commune, better known as Santa's workshop. Hermie's ridiculed for wanting to get out of his Wal-mart sweatshop world. Equation: Santa and his henchman are dicks. So Hermie and Rudolph leave their perspective homes, as they feel like freaks. They end up meeting each other and travel together into the cruel world. At one point, they wind up in a place called the land of misfit toys. There they hear a horrific story about being flawed toys, who have been relegated to this place, as Santa doesn't want to have anything to do with them. Equation: Santa's a Dick. At the end of the show there is a big snowstorm, which looks like it might ground Santa. Irritated by the possiblity, Santa is distracted once again by Rudolph's nose and tells him to "turn that freakin' beak down, Rudy" (paraphrasing). Then Santa, consumed by his own needs realizes this freakin' beak just might help him guide his sleigh that night. Equation: Santa's a Dick. In conclusion, my holiday essay closes with the following points: Have a Happy Holidays!
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Societal Critic at Large: Scott Long
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