Welcome children to the Xmas edition of Chickenhead’s rants. Yes, Xmas. Not Christ-fucking-mass, not “Happy Holidays,” not “Seasons fucking greetings” or whatever bullshit Fox News wants you to get all pissed off about. XMAS. X-FUCKING-MAS. THE MASS OF THE ALMIGHTY X.
Yes my children, this is the eve of the god damned WINTER FUCKING SOLSTICE so you can SHOVE THAT UP YOUR JESUS and SHUT THE FUCK UP. This is a pagan holiday, not one owned by the Pope and his cadre of child fuckers, and especially not owned by the religious idiot right and the Republican’t Party.
An you know what? I like this time of the year. I used to like it when we got snow, but HAARP has made sure we don’t get that anymore…Al Gore’s gotta have his bullshit “carbon credits” after all right? But I still like it. I like my PAGAN “christ”-”mass” tree. I like the holly, I like John Fucking Barleycorn who has done enough time in the ground. Happy god damned Solstice you assholes, and it’s about fucking time because I’m sick of it not getting light until 8am and getting pitch-fucking-black at 4pm. Enough of that shit, fucking earth axis. TAKE IT YOU FUCKING AXIS.
But enough of all that shit. I’m going to invoke the child in all of you…every one of you motherfuckers reading this who were kiddies back in the 19-god-damned-70′s, the year of disco. The last year that “Christmas” as it was known, actually existed. After 1979 “Christmas” just became a trademark.
So to the point: the television of Christmas. Just what the fuck bullshit is on? Well I don’t care: turn it the fuck off. There are only a few statutory television shows that have ever defined Christmas and nothing else.
First up: The Peanuts Christmas Special. After almost 60 years guess what? It’s still fucking special. Everything about it, from the geranium Chuck tried to pass off as an xmas tree to the awesome jazz soundtrack composed and performed by the Vince Fucking Guiraldi Trio. Remember that name kids, and look it up. He was brilliant. He still fucking is, and no one comes close.
But it doesn’t stop there, oh no. Christmas TV was more than just Charles and his beagle. It was the 70′s and it was time for psychedelic disco, in the form of A COSMIC CHRISTMAS. Go ahead to YouTube and look it up. We’re talking Jesus Christ meets Aliens. And it was great, see? The whole middle part with the grandmother and the alien magic reconstructing “Christmas as it used to be” means more now than it ever did.
And onward we go to the GRINCH WHO STOLE CHRISTMAS. The original, canon and awesome Chuck Jones animated version, not the god damned Jim Carrey abortion that Theodore Geisel would have NEVER approved of (god damn his widow for allowing it). Chuck Jones plus Boris Fucking Karlov…it’s magic, true Christmas magic. Fuck you Jim Carrey and Opie Fucking Howard for shitting all over something as sacred as Chuck Jones and Doctor Seuss. They waited until the good Doctor was dead and cold in the ground before they looted and shat all over his creations…he was smart enough in life to tell people like Carrey and Howard to go get fucked.
I could go on…all those Frosty and Rudolph and even the Little Drummer Boy stop-motion shit…I don’t care if it was about Baby Jebus and Yetis, it was still great. And hey…did you ever notice that in those specials the Baby Jebus actually glowed in the dark? Who knew? And all Romans are evil. But Battlestar Galactica and the Book of Moron already told us that. Fucking Romans.
So the point is, after 1979 nothing is real. Christmas (in any form, Baby Jebus or that fat Coca-cola fuck with the beard) is dead. It’s a walking commercial fronted by shitheads like Jim Carrey and The Arcade Fire. It’s dead like rock music with a Mickey Mouse-shaped dagger sticking out of it’s heart.
But I’m not going to pontificate…I’ve got XBMC with Netflix and Navi-X. I can get all the classics at the touch of my lazy finger. And the only post-1979 Xmas movie that deserves consideration is National Lampoon’s Xmas Vacation. That’s it. Fuck the “Kranks” and Tim Allen.
So Happy Solstice to you all…ring on Solstice bells, bring back the sun. And fuck you Jim Carrey. I hope the ghost of Theodore Geisel fucking haunts your nightmares on that gold-plated bed you sleep on, asshole.