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The Blatherings Of A Blitherer

…and then they pulled out all his teeth and laughed at him…


My parents didn’t allow their kids (us) to watch television from Thanksgiving Day until New Year’s Day, except for PBS, because that’s when the Christmas advertising really kicked into high gear. Of course, they foiled their plans by continuing to watch television themselves and being suckered into the BUY BUY BUY HAPPINESS CAN BE PURCHASED mentality. My mom actually managed to get me a Cabbage Patch Doll, despite the fact that I had no idea what it was and didn’t really want it because it was kind of goofy looking. Years later, when I was weeding out the accumulated detritus of childhood, she told me that I couldn’t get rid of the Cabbage Patch Doll because it was “really really hard to get one” and she “had to shove someone out of the way to grab it,” which means it was probably more like a punch or something and not a shove at all, and then she accused me of not appreciating what I had. There’s some very specific reasons I’m something of a packrat.

Anyway, since Christmas television was verboten in our house I grew up not watching most of the holiday programs that every other person in the entire world who isn’t Amish grew up loving. Sure, I had The Nutcracker Suite, and sure I had A Child’s Christmas In Wales, and sure I had a dad who cussed every time It’s A Wonderful Life came on, but I didn’t have Frosty The Snowman or Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer or… uh. I can’t remember any of the others. You probably know them. Nesko, on the other hand, did grow up with those shows, and they were part of what made Christmas for him. So just like the vast majority of the ornaments on our Christmas tree are mine, the vast majority of stuff we do around the house are my rituals also. The specific cookies I make for Christmas are the ones I’ve been making for as long as I can remember. I make hot cocoa the way I made it growing up. I play classical Christmas music instead of Burl Ives.

This year, Nesko decided that he really really missed the old claymation stuff. So we picked up a copy of Rudolph and we watched it together. He was kind of tense for the first part of it, like he was waiting for me to make mean comments. Which, you know, I am kind of an asshole. But I am not the kind of asshole to knowingly crap all over someone’s treasured childhood memories. Inadvertently crap all over them? Oh hell yes. Knowingly? No. Not unless I really didn’t like the person, and I like Nesko. A lot. He’s my favorite person ever.

So, yeah. It’s kind of a dumb movie, and it Very Definitely Has A Message About How It’s OK To Not Fit In that was so incredibly heavy handed I rolled my eyes some. But it also had an absolutely terrifying moment.

Towards the end, Rudolph’s mom, dad, and Designated Love Interest go looking for him and blunder into the Abominable Snowman’s Cave. He reacts by roaring around and yelling at them to get off his lawn. Rudolph, Hermie, and the addled prospector who keeps licking his axe (what the fuck, dude. seriously.) decide to rescue the Reindeer. Their cunning plan? Involves knocking the Snowman unconcious via massive head trauma, and then pulling out all his teeth. You know. So he can’t eat and will starve to death.  When he wakes, toothless and groggy and upset, they all laugh at him. I was appalled by this scene and kept saying “what the fuck, dude! What the fuck! Seriously! AUGH. what the HELL?” because really. Seriously. What the fuck, dude. That’s just nasty. In a fit of pique, the “Monster” drags Klondike Ike or whatever the hell his name off a cliff in some kind of grisly suicide pact. I can’t quite blame him. If some motherfuckers pulled out all MY teeth without benefit of anesthesia (and no, bashing my brains in with a rock doesn’t count), antibiotics, or gauze I’d be incredibly pissed off, too.

Anyway, apparently Stockholm Syndrome sets in because later on the so-called monster shows up with the REAL monster, only now he’s all tame and instead of attacking people and eating Santa (or gumming him real good) he puts a star on top of the Christmas tree. Because Santa can’t afford ladders or something. His workshop is seriously pre-OSHA.

It was just a really depressing movie. Man. Going from the top of the food chain to being a ladder monkey with NO TEETH, consigned to eat gruel for the rest of your days.

Later on we watched Alien Versus Predator and if you can overlook the racism (those silly brown people could never build something as complex as a pyramid! or religion! it must be interstellar travelers!)  it was… slightly better than Rudolph. Mostly because it had far less rogue dentistry.

Peace out, and apologies to everyone who reads me who doesn’t celebrate Christmas. It’s probably pretty annoying to read so much C-Mas stuff, huh? It’ll be over soon.

posted under Christmas, life, Nesko

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