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Amazing how you see things differently when you’re an “adult”

I use the term in quotes because although I am 27 years old, I still don’t feel like a real live adult yet. But I can be tried as one, so I’d better refer to myself as such for legal purposes. Anyway, on with the true purpose of this rant: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Chiefly, the Christmas special that has been shown year after year during the holidays. I have a theory that no one actually made that tv show. It simply existed, floating amongst the cosmos as a stray signal, waiting for a thing called television to be invented on a place called Earth. And then it started making annual visits every December, working it’s way into our subconscious. And it was while watching it again this year, with friends and under the influence of some alcohol, that I noticed something: it is one of the most disturbing things ever shown on tv.

Let me explain. To start with, the Santa that is depicted in this show is not the benevolent, kindly saint that delivers presents and cheer the world round. This Santa is a miserly, irascible grouch. Oh, and he ascribes to the ideas of eugenics. That’s right, this Santa is a racist bastard, as evidenced by his immediate reaction to the birth of Rudolph. He’s fine with the little fawn, as long as he’s “normal.” But the second that genetic anomaly of a red nose makes an appearance, Santa changes his tune. If Santa had a gun, I think he would have plugged the poor little guy right there on the spot. And not only that, but his Third Reich of the North Pole has the entire populace trained to weed out anyone exhibiting signs of individualism and crush it through social stigmatization. Take Hermie the elf. Wants to be a dentist, exploring an alternative lifestyle to the toy making world he is in. Instead of encouraging him, his superiors threaten and ridicule him, despite the fact that a dentist could be handy in a land where the diet consists of cookies, hard candy, and hot chocolate.

So the two freaks of nature are outcast from Disney’s Magic Kingdom Santa’s North Pole workshop. These two young’ens then run away (and no one thinks to look for them until much later). The first person they meet is Yukon Cornelius, a prospector so far around the bend he talks to his dogs and licks a metal pick ax in the middle of the arctic. And it looks like he’s been out there a while. Alone. With only dogs for company. And now he’s with a young boy and his reindeer. I don’t want to insinuate anything. I’m just saying Rudolph and Herbie probably needed a lot of counseling and developed a strong aversion to beards.

Then along comes the Bumble. I’m fully convinced that creature was the result of the unholy experiments of St. Nick himself, a genetic accident from the fat man’s attempts to clone the perfect elf. Repulsed by the affront before God he had created, Santa banished the creature to the frozen wastes to keep any from escaping his little sweatshop in order to inform the authorities. But what is truly disturbing is what Rudolph and Co. do to the savage beastie. Herbie, mustering up a lifetimes worth of pent up aggression coupled with a pathological obsession for dentistry, goes Marathon Man on the poor creature and RIPS OUT THE BUMBLE’S TEETH!!! Thus condemning the hapless genetic anamoly to a life time of fish and reindeer smoothies. Then, to top things off, Yukon Cornelius and his dogs get so swept up in carnal desire for the thing that they charge him and knock him off a cliff, where horribly lewd and degrading things must have happened to the Bumble as the next time we see him he’s now Yukon’s hairy man-slave.

Now I realize I’m leaving out the Island of Misfit toys. There’s a reason for that. That part just freaks me out. I have woken up screaming due to nightmares plagued by Charlie-in-the-Box and that cowboy on the ostrich. Those little abominations must be from Fisher-Price’s H.P. Lovecraft collection.

And that brings us to the end of the program, where Santa, after previously being thin as a rail, has now plumped up nicely in the span of a few weeks. Where did he get the food from? The arctic is not exactly known for its plentiful harvests, and I’m fairly certain no living thing can put on that much weight licking lichen off of rocks. That leads me to one conclusion – Santa has been eating all the reject reindeer and elves. And now Rudolph and Herbie are back in his clutches…

Now don’t even get me started on Frosty the Snowman…

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December 7, 2007 at 10:18 pm Leave a comment

To quote Samwise Gamgee, ‘I’m back’

And yes that is a Lord of the Rings reference.  I’m a geek, so it’s what I do.

So about my trip – I’m going to report on it in two ways for two different groups of people.  First, for all American tourists  that tend to be obnoxious, ethnocentric jerks while in other countries: don’t go to northern England.  It’s a terrible place, and you wouldn’t like it.  You’ll be beaten to death by roving bands of hooligans who will then proceed to make a hat from your buttocks and play a pick up game of five-a-side with your kidneys.  There is nothing to see, do, eat, smell, whatever.  It is a void – null space.  You would be much better off going to places like Cabo San Lucas or Ibiza, where your horrible behavior will fit in wonderfully.

For all world-wise, adventurous, conscientious American tourists: go to northern England.  It’s a great place that hasn’t been spoiled by the horrible tourists I described in the previous bit.  Manchester is a great city: incredibly cosmopolitan, populated by wonderfully warm people with a great sense of humor.  I regret having spent only two days there.  But then I wouldn’t have had to time to do all the other things I did.  York is brilliant for sight-seeing, although it can be a little pricy.  And Sheffield, while it may not have the tourism of York or Manchester, has some of the best ales you will ever find.  And it borders Peak District National Park, with some of the most beautiful vistas you will ever see.

On a related topic, I just want to say something about modern air travel.  The sheer number of security checkpoints I had to go through getting back was mind numbing.  I count six: one getting into the terminal at Manchester, one before getting onto the plane, one at customs in Philadelphia without my bag, another at customs with my bag, another about ten yards later where a woman checked my passport again, and a final one about ten yards beyond that where I can do have all my carry on x-rayed and go through the metal detectors AGAIN.  And never mind the fact no two airports in the world seem to have identical security restrictions.  Leaving from DC, I was allowed one carry on bag (my backpack) and one personal item (my camera bag).  Leaving Manchester, I was allowed one carry on bag.  Full stop.  I had to check my backpack, because I trusted my camera bag with baggage handlers as much as a mother trusts her newborn with a pack of dingos.  And because of all this hassle, I’ve decided one thing: if I ever meet any sort of terrorist, I will kick him square in the privates with a steel toed boot.  And then I will drag him before a line of people waiting to get through airport security with a sign around their neck saying “This is all my fault” and allow every person in line to put their boot in before they walk through the metal detector.  That may sound a bit aggro, but when innocent people have to jump through 8,000 hoops for doing nothing wrong, I think someone has to answer for it.

November 30, 2006 at 6:01 pm Leave a comment

That’s it! I’m leaving the country!

For a week, that is.  I’m going to England to see some friends, have a few good pints (mmm, warm beer), and see some of what Northern England has to offer.  Oh, and stock up on Cadbury’s chocolate.  We only get to see it once a year around these parts, but over there it’s everywhere!  All the time!  In many wonderous forms, and lacking all the wax we put into milk chocolate here in America.  Yes, we put wax in our chocolate (it only makes sense, otherwise it would melt in our warmer climate).  So I hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving.  I know I’m being thoroughly unpatriotic by going abroad on Turkey Day.  But I am going to be watching football.  It’ll just be the real kind.  You know, where you actually use your foot in conjunction with the ball.  The entire game.  And John Madden is not involved.

Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving!

November 20, 2006 at 6:33 pm Leave a comment

Words Cannot Express My Amusement at This

A friend forwarded me a celebrity gossip article. I normally don’t care for such things, but the title alone drew me in.

Mike Tyson To Be A Prostitute

Mike TysonFormer boxing champion Mike Tyson is to become a male escort after agreeing to work at legendary Hollywood madam Heidi Fleiss’ new legalized brothel for women. Fleiss bought 60 acres of land in Nevada, and his work is scheduled to begin on Heidi’s Stud Farm.

She has high hopes for Tyson, once heavyweight champion of the world – despite the fact he is a convicted rapist.

She says, “I told him, ‘You’re going to be my big stallion.’ It’s every man’s fear that their girlfriend will go for Mike Tyson.”

Tyson, 40, adds, “I don’t care what any man says, it’s every man’s dream to please every woman – and get paid for it.”

(This news article provided by World Entertainment News Network)

 

There really is nothing more I can say about this. It is its own setup and punchline. It’s the return of the 1990’s late night monologue.

 

November 17, 2006 at 10:22 pm Leave a comment

New Kid on the Blog

Hi, I’m Adam. I’ll be posting here every so often, since Tim has been nice enough to let share in the reindeer games. Most of what I say will make little to no sense but it will hopefully be funny. Eventually. Maybe. Whatever. I don’t need to be judged by YOU! Yeah I’m talking to you, Judgy McJudgerton. Of East Judgopolis. Where they judge people. While wearing their judging pants. That’s right, I said judging pants. They could exist. They promote an air of superiority to any who gaze upon their judginess.

So thanks for reading. Because if you didn’t, I would have sent the ninjas after you.

November 17, 2006 at 10:22 pm Leave a comment


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