HAPPY NEW YEAR!

So I'm as much a traditionalist as the next guy, provided the next guy happens to be your grandfather. I dig archaic forms of entertainment such as bird watching, stamp collecting, yelling at young people from my porch and witch burning (still very big in the Czech Republic). But the whole year in review thing has seen its day. Only been a year, do we really need reminders about the guy who cried "Rapture" and the NFL lockout and the movement to occupy everywhere? Admittedly, those are the only three things I remember from 2011 but that doesn't matter. Don't need a bloody refresher course! Any idiot can sit at a desk doing Google searches for shit that's already happened, repackaging stories we've already read with pictures we've already seen. (PUSSIES!) But sacrificing your Mom's Cocker Spaniel to the dark gods, draining the tiny beast's blood into the skull of a completely different dog and drinking deep of the viscous fluid — which strangely tastes a lot like KFC gravy — to gain knowledge of the future… now that takes a real man with a pair of Kryptonite gonads housed in a lead-lined sack my friends! They're implants by the way, elective surgery, had it done in the Czech Republic. (That place is MESSED-UP!)

Therefore, in honor of Mr. Puddles' sacrifice (God rest that poor dog's soul) let's get to the predictifying. And yes, predictifying is totally a word, President Bush used it in a sentence once so that makes it officialated. (Also totally a word.)

Actual New Year might

not be this adorable.

JANUARY:
While this one's not a prediction, my sources tell me that Jenna Carly Tuedla, reportedly the first baby born this year missed it by about 8.4 seconds. The true first birth of 2012 happened in a cave on the island of Fiji. Baby boy Ashneel Cokanauto entered the world at a whopping nine pounds, seven ounces. His father was not present at the birth, being a wild boar and all, probably had other stuff to do. His human mom did not survive the ordeal as his horns, tusks and hooves literally tore the poor girl a new one on the way out. Likely none of this bodes well for the rest of humanity either. Still, he is a cute little tyke… for an Anti-Christ.

Please let that be 

a mic in her pants.

FEBRUARY: 

Tragedy will strike Super Bowl XLVI (that's #46) on February 5th in Indianapolis when Madonna takes the stage to perform the half-time show. That's it… that's the tragedy, Madonna sings at half-time. On the plus side, the NFL will see a tremendous revenue boost when it gains millions of new fans as gay men all over the world tune in to watch the Material Girl perform and discover that: "Some of those football player guys are really cute." BTW, do they even still call her the Material Girl anymore? Been so long since she was relevant I wouldn't know. 

Please don't reproduce… one Anti-Christ
in the world is enough.

MARCH:
The civilized world will be shocked, disgusted, confused and afraid to witness the whirlwind courtship and nuptials of retired NFL player Michael Strahan and consistent hot-mess Lindsay Lohan. Hollywood gossip rag TMZ will dub this traffic accident 'Strohan' and report Lindsay's explanation of the coupling to be unknown. Not because of any reticence on her part, but because the answers given will be a drunken stream of unintelligible gibberish followed by whooping noises. For his part, Strahan, who had previously been romantically linked to Eddie Murphy's ex-wife Nicole, will be quoted as saying he just couldn't pass up the opportunity to get with a white chick.

APRIL:
In the face of mounting economic problems, the country of Greece will just completely shut down this year. Visitors to the shores of the Mediterranean country will find the entire nation and its islands boarded up like abandoned tenements. All calls into the capital city of Athens will be answered by an automated message that will simply state "We no here no more, okay? You no call here no more. Ain't nobody gonna be here. Okay, you hang up now, good-bye."

Because chick flicks ain't got no place in the summertime.

MAY: 

The summer movie season of 2012 will see the release of films such as The Avengers, The Dark Knight Rises, The Hunger Games, The Amazing Spider-Man, Men in Black III and the Ridley Scott sci-fi epic Prometheus. Due to the excitement generated by the sheer awesomeness each of these films will hopefully contain, summer 2012 should also see the frequent and uncontrolled release of my bowels. This one's not only a prediction but also a warning to all who might find themselves sitting near me in the theater.

It's the uniform… apparently chicks dig doormen.

JUNE:
Scandal rocks Buckingham Palace as Prince William gets caught mid-coitus with his sister-in-law Pippa Middleton … and her sister/his wife Kate… together at the same damn time! The situation shines a new light of world-wide respect onto the Prince (Because really, who doesn't love a good three-way?) and all of England looks brighter in the reflected badassery. (Totally a word!) A special emergency meeting of Parliament will be convened and every rule in the book will be broken as they vote unanimously to physically kick the Queen's tired old carcass off the throne, lock Charles and Camilla's ugly asses in a tower somewhere and celebrate the coronation of King Big Willie.

JULY:

The mascots should 

have been our first clue 

to how awful it would be.

Sadly, any goodwill that William, Kate and Pippa's bedroom shenanigans might gain for the Brits will be short lived. Just one month later, in an effort to keep up with the times and make the London Olympic games something young people will give a crap about, organizers will stage the opening ceremonies via flash mob. This will turn out to be a huge mistake and several deaths by fire will occur as a result of the cauldron lighting ceremony gone horribly wrong. Other such efforts to update the games will lead to the unveiling of Synchronized Planking and Freestyle Tebowing as Olympic events. The US will sadly fail to medal in either competition, a fact made all the more embarrassing since Tim Tebow himself will be sent to London to compete in the very event that bears his name.

AUGUST:

Does anything ever really happen in August? No, and 2012 will be no different. Let's move on.

SEPTEMBER:

"How we supposed to take a serious
picture with Tiny Larry down there
making us look ridiculous?"

Having finally poked their heads out from under their sheets and taken a good look around, the Ku Klux Klan will realize that the numbers just aren't on their side and vote to hang up the sheets. Most of the organization's members will simply choose to hate other races quietly, under their breath like everyone else in America. Though there will be some exceptions like the Washington D.C. chapter. Those knuckleheads will elect to go out in a literal blaze of glory with an attempt to stage a cross burning on the White House lawn. The Secret Service will forever remember the ensuing bloodbath fondly and laughingly as Operation: Oh No They Didn't!

No Betty, that's not how
you do the Shocker.

OCTOBER:
America's grandma Betty White suffers a wardrobe malfunction while visiting the cackling hens of The View. The less said about this the better. Seeing as it's a premonition that means not only have I seen it once, I might have to suffer through it again when it really happens. Dear God!

NOVEMBER:
By the time the Presidential Election rolls around in November, the Republican party will still be at odds trying to figure out who their frontrunner for the nomination will be. Although Hell-bound snowballs Rick Santorum and Ron Paul will have eventually gotten the hint and bowed out sometime over the summer, the rest of the field hangs in there for the long haul. But when the Alaskan punchline Sarah Palin officially enters the race along with 'WTF?' poster boy Gary Busey, the incredible happens, the situation gets even worse. No one thought that possible. Amidst the confusion no one even notices that the polls never open on November 6th, no one bothers or cares and President Barack Obama just stays in the Oval Office unchallenged for a second term.

DECEMBER:

End of the world fears will be put to bed when December 21st comes and goes and we do not blow up. I repeat, we're all going to be fine. See, right up there on the Mayan calendar that everyone's been so worried about, right where the arrow is pointing, that doesn't say we all die… just France. France is f@%ked, the Mayans even underlined it. So I guess we aren't ALL going to be okay, just those of us who aren't French. The rest of us will have to learn to get along without really good cheeses and the fashion world will take a hit. Other than that, nothing changes.

Well that's all folks. Now you know what you've got to look forward to in the coming months so try to act accordingly and dress appropriately. And remember, when these things all start coming true, you're going to feel a strange urge to worship me, to look to me for guidance and leadership, to erect temples and idols in my image, to send me all your money that I might live better and continue to grace you with my visions. My advice is to go with those feelings, every single one of them, act on all that shit, people. Love me and give me stuff!

This has been the Oracle, that is all.

DAY 19: SPECIAL EDITION DIRECTOR'S CUT

Well the presents have all been unwrapped, the food has all been eaten and the relatives have all gone back to wherever they came from. Consequently the credit cards have all been maxed out, I packed on about twelve pounds and several of those relatives will never speak to me again. Yup, Christmas has come and gone, thank birthday boy Jesus for that. 

I'm fully recovered from my Christmas movie induced psychotic break, thanks for asking… not that any of you did (bastards). I'm hale, hearty, optimistic, ready to move on and tackle 2012 so hard that it leaves that bitch with a permanent limp. But before that can happen, a little unfinished business needs to be seen to, some things left dangling in need of being tucked in and zipped up. (That's a pretty horrifying visual.) You may recall back on Day 19 of that whole movie thing (seems so long ago) I took in a little piece of fluff called Rose Hill but didn't write a word about it. Instead I talked about other things having to do with the setting and surroundings and the friend I was with that evening. Reason for this is simple, I was cheating. Rose Hill was not a Christmas movie and therefore should not even have been on the menu, but I threw it in there as an excuse to hang with my friend Elizabeth. (Awwwww.) Still, there were some who took umbrage to my tactic and cried bullshit, feeling that my solution was an act of cowardice, a way of avoiding making my thoughts on the movie known since someone I know was in it .

So, now that the holiday is over, I'll talk about this non-holiday film. And never let it be said that I'm afraid to make my opinion known. You can however, let it be said that I'm afraid of chocolate fountains, because I am. Just one big flowing stream of germs, no way for civilized people to eat.

Okay, let me say first that I didn't hate Rose Hill, but I didn't really like it either. I was too bored by it to really care one way or the other. Later on boredom turned to confusion, possibly because my mind drifted due to boredom and I lost track of what the hell was happening. Also, Elizabeth had this really fabulous appetizer where you take a slice of this Spanish cheese and spread on some quince paste, top it with a Marcona almond and pop it in your mouth that was just divine. So that kinda distracted me. And yeah, I did just use the words fabulous and divine in the same sentence. Threaten to take my man-card if you wanna but there's really no other way to describe the stuff so screw it. Besides, I'm married almost twenty years now, the hell do I need a man-card for anymore? Week-end trips to the mall? Holding her purse at JC Penny? Trying to pretend her ass doesn't look fat in those jeans? Trying even harder to act like I don't notice that the sales girl's ass looks smoking hot in the same brand of pants? Sitting silently while getting chewed out on the drive home because I got caught looking at the sales girl's ass? Yeah, just go ahead and take the f@%king card, I obviously have no further use for the thing.

Now with 30% more BLAH.

I should probably quit wasting my time bitching and get this movie thing done before the little woman comes home. Supposed to go look for new curtains this afternoon. (KILL ME!) So the film opens with four thieving orphan boys on the run from the cops through the streets of NYC circa 1800…ish, they discover a baby girl in a basket. Calling themselves the Clayborne family, they name the baby Mary Rose and decide to head out to Texas since that's where Adam (the black orphan) wants to go and be a cowboy. Suddenly, without benefit of any sort of transition, it's five years later and they're living in Texas as ranch hands. Five minutes after that and they recruit the ranch's lone scrub woman and move to Montana. Skip ahead again about twelve years and the Claybornes have established their own ranch named Rose Hill with scrub woman acting as the stable mother figure. Must be noted that after the first transition, with adult actors playing the Clayborne boys turned to men, it was no longer possible to tell who was who save for Adam… because, you know… he's black. Tends to stand out in a family of white dudes… as well as the rest of Montana for that matter.

Mary Rose, played by Jennifer Garner at this point is like a cat in heat, just rubbing herself up on any swinging dick suitor that comes around the farm. And many do, but she ends up giving her heart away to a nice young scoundrel, and in turn he shoots one of her brothers to death. Not sure which one, I just know that it wasn't Adam because that would've been a hate crime and I would've noticed that. Mary Rose, horny dumbass that she is, helps the scoundrel escape before the rest of the family can catch him. That ain't cool. Later, at the funeral she breaks down crying… not because brother whatshisface is gone, but because word comes down that her scoundrel crush was hunted down and killed by Rangers. This sickening display prompts Adam to tell Mary Rose the truth about where she really came from as a not-so-subtle way of telling the bitch she really ought to just go back there.

So Mary Rose is on a train back to NYC, the two remaining white brothers head out on their own as well leaving Adam, wash woman and some Indian chick Adam found in the woods and married, to tend the homestead. Gotta give Adam props for seeking love in the wilderness though, smart move. Guaranteed she never dragged him all across the state looking for bed linens. Bitch could barely even speak… always a plus. Once in NYC Mary Rose finds her real family who happen to be rich folks. Finds out that she was abandoned as part of a kidnapping/ransom plot gone wrong then finds out that back in Montana Adam is dying of a cough, (it's the 1800s, mucus was fatal back then) hotfoots it back to Rose Hill and then not much else happens after that. Think she might have gotten some deep drilling from a Scottish dude, there was something to do with dead cows, Adam's squaw maybe got knocked up. I'm not really sure what was going on toward the end because Elizabeth and I were otherwise engaged talking about how bad her cat's farts smelled by that point. And I was just amazed that I'd gotten away with blaming that on the tiny critter. Also, I was kinda looking to make a quick exit before she found what I left in the potted plant by the stairs because I don't think pinning it on the cat was gonna work for that. Perhaps if she had a mountain lion but… It was all that cheese and apparently quince paste isn't as fabulous as I though, didn't agree with me and her bathroom is really far.

I'm guessing she eventually found it though because she hasn't returned any of my calls or answered any texts since Christmas and the other day she un-friended me on Facebook.

BUT I REGRET NOTHING! BRING ON 2012!

DAY 24: THE FINAL CHAPTER

I should have had a bad feeling about this.

'Twas the night before Christmas 

And all in my head. 

The voices have been silenced, 

I've been rendered brain dead. 

~ 

A full month of holiday movies, 

Mostly Hallmark Channel fare, 

Have taken a toll on my senses. 

My mental cupboard left bare. 

~ 

I sit, verbally unresponsive, 

Thanks to the damage that I've done. 

Scaring the ever-living shit 

Out of both my loving wife and son. 

~ 

My boy is frantic and hysterical, 

Voicing his concern and his worry. 

My wife screams into her phone, 

"Please, just get here in a hurry!" 

~ 

Waiting for help to arrive, 

The little man, he begins to cry. 

He says, "Now Christmas is ruined!" 

"All because Daddy's gonna die!" 

~ 

My wife tries to calm him, 

Gives him a present to unwrap. 

And then when he's not looking, 

She gives my face a quick slap. 

~ 

Then she moves closer to me, 

Whispers so my boy cannot hear, 

"How could you do this to us, you bastard?" 

She hisses in my good ear. 

~

She's right in her anger, 

Her venom, it is just. 

This was a very, very bad idea. 

My little pet project is a bust. 

~ 

"'Twill be a Christmas movie advent calendar!" 

I had crowed with such pride. 

"I'll blog all about it, everybody." 

"Won't you come on along for the ride?" 

~

I did it all for a goof, for a laugh, 

To be funny, but alas no such luck. 

Seriously, what the hell happened? 

This is a complete clusterf@%k! 

~ 

Sitting here, staring blankly, 

Reflecting on all the films that I took in. 

Sure most of them were bad but I can't see… 

Ooops, just drooled a little on my chin. 

~ 

Perhaps it wasn't any one flick alone 

That inflicted so much harm. 

But maybe all of them together, 

Accumulation had been the charm. 

~ 

Still, after 23 of the things there'd been 

No sign of neurological attack. 

Number 24, that must have been the straw 

That broke the f@%king camel's back. 

~ 

Thought I had it made, so clever, 

But really I should have known. 

Holiday in Handcuffs screwed me, but good, 

Should have left that damned film alone. 

~ 

A real stinker about a chick with issues. 

Lemme think, who played that part? 

She was once Clarissa, then Sabrina… 

Oh yeah, it was Melissa Joan Hart. 

~ 

Desperate 'round the holiday, 

To please her mom and dad, 

Wants to finally bring home a fella. 

So she does something really bad. 

~ 

Kidnaps a guy at gunpoint 

To pretend to be her beau. 

Played by… well nothing rhymes with Lopez, 

So let's just call him Mario. 

~ 

At this point I'm gonna cheat a little. 

A small liberty that I'll take. 

But I'm writing this thing in verse you know, 

So could you cut me a f@%king break? 

~ 

Gonna refer you back to the DAY 1 entry, 

Let Holiday Engagement summarize. 

Since both tone and plot here were similar 

To that which kick-started my demise. 

~

In that film the chick hires an actor,

So they differ there, it's true. 

Melissa abducted her faux boyfriend. 

Besides that… really nothing new. 

~

And with that we've come full circle, 

I've got nothing left, there's no more. 

Just as well since it seems there's an EMS crew 

Barreling through my front door. 

~ 

As they cart me off to the loony bin, 

Safely restrained for my own sake. 

There's something else I must share with you, 

One last confession I have to make. 

~ 

You see, I'm not really posting this. 

Wish I could, yeah that'd be great. 

But how the hell could I make a blog post, 

When I'm in a catatonic state? 

~ 

I'm convinced this one-way conversation 

Is all just happening in my mind. 

Or what little of it's left anyway, 

The portion Hallmark left behind. 

~ 

You're all figments of my imagination, 

Proof that I've gone 'round the bend. 

I've enjoyed these 24 days with you, 

But now that time has come to an end. 

~ 

So as the men in white coats prepare me, 

Make sure the straps are fitted nice and tight, 

I SAY TO YOU ALL MERRY CHRISTMAS! 

I AM GETTING SO MEDICATED TONIGHT! 

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE!

LOVE TO YOU ALL!

DAY 23: NEXT YEAR I'M JUST DOING KWANZAA

Bet that guy poops on cars while he's
floating around up there. I would.

Yeah! This is it, last day bitches, after this I'm free! No more bad Christmas movies, no more write ups, no more dreams that begin with Santa Claus and end in blood and fire. I can get off this couch and shave and shower and live like a person again, not this filth-wallowing animal that I've become. No one but myself to blame for that sorry state of affairs, I realize that of course, but whatever… it's over! Thank you God! Thank you Jesus! Thank you Buddha, Shiva, Vishnu, Ganesh, Odin, Mother Moon and Father Sky… I don't want to leave anyone out. No deity left behind! Not gonna mention that one name though, you know the one, that name gets you put on agency watch lists by one side and gets a fatwa put on your ass by the other. So no thank you to him. Oh why not? I'm a free man now so what the hell could it hurt? Thank you Al…

…ah who am I trying to kid? That's not what I'm saying today, that's what I'd be all like if it were tomorrow. But it ain't, it's today, Day 23, one more day of this shit to go after this one, so today I'm all like mother f@%ker! Why is Christmas taking so damn long to get here already? Just taking forever, like watching your grandmother slowly struggle to get up after a fall. Sure you could speed things up, help her to her feet, make sure her hip is still intact. But you know, you just sat down to breakfast and if you help her then by the time you got back to the table your cereal is all soggy and you got that old people smell on you. Who wants that? And at least in that scenario you have a choice, could take action if you were so inclined and not such a selfish bastard. Waiting for the holidays to be over is just… son of a bitch! To quote Alvin and the Chipmunks: "We can hardly stand the wait… so Christmas hurry the f@%k up and get here before I shoot you in the face you stupid little bitch-ass holiday!" Might not be the way the song really goes, but that's how I sing it. Consequently I'm not allowed to go caroling in the state of… anywhere there's children.

Guess since the last two days of these things aren't gonna just write themselves I might as well get to it. If you were paying attention a couple days ago (probably weren't) you'll recall that the Judd Nelson holiday creep-fest Cancel Christmas was the reason Hallmark Channel and I finally parted ways. I'd had enough of the bitch and decided I needed to see other networks. Spent the prior evening with TNT and I thought I'd give the Lifetime Net another look this time, see what Christmas Angel was all about. Right before the movie began an announcer informed me that this Lifetime Original Movie was being sponsored by… come on, take a wild guess. That's right, Hallmark! Bitches followed me, couldn't just leave me in peace. Why can't they let me be happy with someone else?

Fine, whatever, I let them tag along. Christmas Angel is a pretty simple story about Ashley, a young woman with some issues… as if there's any other kind. (Oh look, women can call for a fatwa too. That's so adorable.) Holidays have gotten Ashley down and she needs a job. About the only thing good in her life is her dog named Dash. Then Dash gets hit and killed by a drunk driver. Okay, I'm just messing with you about Dash, he's fine. But that would've been awesome…ly sad. Yeah, awesomely sad is what I was going to say, because I don't have any darkness within me. No sir, no darkness here. You believe me, right? Let's get back to that movie.

Ashley takes a job as a personal assistant for her neighbor across the hall, Nick. Turns out that kindly, white haired gentleman Nick is independently wealthy and just slums it in his crappy apartment for the thrill of living poor. He also spends time doing for others and using his secret fortune to bring Christmas to the needy as a covert Santa. Nick's a real saint. (Yeah, like you couldn't see that one coming.) We find out that he's also helped Ashley in the past as well, one year ago at Christmas, he was the reason Dash just showed up on her doorstep. He knew she was having a rough go of it even back then, knew that she liked dogs, and he figured she could use a friend. Probably coulda used a couple grand as well seeing as he's got the extra scratch and all but no, the dog was very thoughtful. Nothing like another mouth to feed when you can barely pay the rent. Way to go Dick… I mean Nick.

Early on in the flick Ashley meets a young man named Will and they sort of get a thing going, even though he's pretty much a douche with just one redeeming quality, he um… uh… he… shit, I can't really think of it right now. Maybe he didn't even have one. Totally possible since he's an investigative journalist who spends most of his screen time either following Ashley around like a stalker or bugging her for an interview with Nick so he can expose their whole secret operation. All worried about where his next story is coming from instead of working to get all up in Ashley sideways like any decent guy would. Reporters are the worst. Like that guy Mr. McGhee from the old Incredible Hulk series, remember him? Couldn't stand that guy! Every week I kept hoping the Hulk would drop-kick his ass off a cliff or something but nope, he survived every time to come back next episode and be a jerk. Still for some reason, Ashley digs him — she digs Will, not Mr. McGhee — and she keeps giving him a chance even though they have the sexual chemistry of a garden gnome sitting in a bucket of dirt. I could be wrong though, garden gnomes might be into that, I don't know and I ain't one to judge.

Meanwhile, since no good deed goes unpunished, Nick gets cancer and dies. Not that quickly of course, takes about fifteen minutes, only a two hour movie for crying out loud. He leaves his fortune to Ashley and asks her to continue his good works, and she does so by living as he did and doing as he would've done like a dumbass. Stays in the same apartment, and brings joy to the needy, especially at Christmastime. Doesn't buy a fancy new car or a big house or a solid gold bidet that shoots champagne. Oh, like I'm the only one who would cleanse their crack with a '75 Dom Perignon if they had the cash? Bullshit! Don't even try to fake, you know that sounds like one luxuriously refreshing squat! Probably tickles, like pixie kisses. (Ohhhhhh!)

Overall though, I kinda liked this movie. Nick and Ashley's story and their scenes together were nice and believable. I was able to tolerate Will, albeit just barely. His being a two dimensional character on my TV screen made the task doable. If he existed in the real world and were right in front of me I wouldn't be in such good humor and I'd have to pee on him. Not in a weird way or nothing, I just think reporters should be peed on, most of them deserve it and it would help them learn their place. That's how the Hulk should have handled that McGhee fellow, should've whipped it out and pissed on him. Probably would have been like hitting him with a fire hose, knocked him across the street and slammed him into a parked car, gamma irradiated urine burning the flesh right off that nosy f@%ker's bones. Then he coulda been all like: "Puny Banner warned you not make Hulk angry, beeyatch!"

You ever write something down, go back and read it later and think "Holy shit, what the f@%k is wrong with me?" Yeah, that last bit was such a moment. All right, I've got darkness in here.

DAY 22: CALLING BIRDS TASTE LIKE CHICKEN

Modern thinking holds that when hot women dress up in costume, nine out of ten times they're going to be a slutty version of whatever they're supposed to be. Most of you have heard this piece of conventional wisdom before, especially if you're a fan of the show How I Met Your Mother. In fact, I think NPH's character Barney Stinson might have been the genius behind the theory. Think about it, you're in your twenties, Halloween rolls around, you hit a couple parties or do a Fright Night bar crawl and there's wave after wave of slutty nurses, slutty soldiers, slutty nuns, slutty cops and slutty super heroes as far as the eye can see. The sole exception to that last example being Wonder Woman. Then it's just a chick dressed as Wonder Woman since there really is no point in trying make that slutty, the normal costume does just fine on its own. (Shameless hussy!)

Well from what I've seen these days the same holds true for movies. Take any movie, make it about Christmas, next thing you know, shitty movie. A comedy with a Christmas slant becomes a shitty comedy, story of love set during the holidays becomes a shitty love story. Talking animal movies are the exception though, those are always just shitty no matter what. They're like the Wonder Woman of the film world. So it's no surprise that a Christmas mystery like Deck the Halls would turn out to be one shitty mystery.

First off I have to explain the graphic up top. I DVRed this one thinking it would be the Danny Devito/Matthew Broderick comedy you see on the left. Realized how wrong I was within the first five or ten… all right, more like twenty-five minutes. But it was still about Christmas so I went with it. I mean really, what was I gonna do otherwise, change the channel and look for something else? That's like effort or something. Shit, if I'm gonna do that then I might as well do… whatever it is people do when they're not sitting in front of the TV. Not really sure what that is, but I don't think I'd like it too much.

So the fun begins in this film when a dude dressed as Santa Claus kidnaps the owner of a funeral home and his limo driver mere days before Christmas. Said funeral home proprietor is the father of private detective Regan Reilly and husband of famous mystery author Nora Reilly. Santa and his little helper hold the dude and the driver for ransom, demanding $5,000,000 from the little woman's mystery novel empire. But Daddy's darling girl is on the case with a little help from some nosy chick she meets in the dentist's office. (HUH?) Together with nosy chick's bumbling hubby in tow they pound the pavement looking for the perp.

This movie was based on a novel by Mary Higgins Clark and her mom Carol. Apparently it's part of a series of books about Regan Reilly. And nothing in the movie made me want to run out and get any of the other books. Well, not really that I'd run anywhere, more like if I were so inclined I'd download it to my Kindle from the comfort of my couch. Didn't really want to do that either because I didn't care enough about the story or the characters or the plot or the clumsy way the detective duo stumbled through a series of lame clues to find the kidnapper and save the day. So no, won't be downloading any of those books any time soon… or ever. Besides, even if the story was really good and I'd wanted to buy the book series, my Kindle was all the way upstairs somewhere I think. That's kinda far and I was pretty comfortable on the couch so that thing might as well have been in Budapest for all the effort I was gonna make to go find it. I really am a lazy son of a bitch.

Regan's parents Nora and Luke Reilly were played in the film by veteran thespians (old-ass actors) Jane Alexander and David Selby respectively. This pairing made it kind of difficult for me to watch any scenes where the family was all together, especially at the end when Nora and Luke are reunited and spend a good two minutes snogging like a couple of teenagers.

snog |snäg| Brit., informal
verb ( snogged , snogging ) [ trans. ]
kiss and caress amorously.

There now, you've learned something today.

It wasn't Nora and Luke's amorous nature alone that made watching them a chore, it was the fact that back in '07 these two veteran thespians played a common law couple in HBO's rather graphic and sexually explicit series Tell Me You Love Me. And when I say graphic I mean… well it was all fine and good when the episodes focused on the young folks but then there were scenes where… Well I guess it's nice to know ladies are willing to do certain things for their men even when they're in their 70s, it's just kind of shocking to see them actually doing it. You don't expect to witness that sort of thing on television. You also don't expect to feel certain things inside… certain longings and desires you didn't know existed within you.

So anyway, yeah… kinda hard to see those two together again. I didn't mean hard… I meant it wasn't easy…

Shut up! They told us in health class that it was only natural for that to happen sometimes! Stop laughing at me! I'm not a freak!

DAY 21: THE DAY THE MISTLETOE DIED

"Oh you can pout, shout and cry all you want…
no one can hear you up here at the North Pole."

Continuing along in my holiday movie penance, twenty one days down now, only three more to go before I sleep… or turn to stone. We'll see.

Kong Lives, Firewalker, Free Willy, Battle Beyond the Stars, Superman III and IV… these are just some of the movies that at one time or another I've proclaimed to be the worst pieces of shit I've ever seen. And I suppose that at the time each proclamation was made it was an accurate statement. Batman and Robin held the title for a good long while until Superman Returns showed up in '06 to take the crown. Three years later, along came Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull and it's been king of the crap heap ever since. (The Star Wars prequels were in there somewhere, but the less said about those the better.) And looking back, Superman films have been pretty shitty affairs ever since the second one, haven't they? There's another one coming out next year but no matter how bad it might (probably) be, I don't think it's going to be able to unseat Cancel Christmas.

All right, let's just cover the plot first, get that formality out of the way. Movie opens with some suit wearing bureaucrat ripping Santa a new one because the Christmas Spirit is becoming as extinct as the term 'Made in America'. The North Pole board of directors (WTF?) has given Santa Claus ten days to turn around the attitudes of three pre-teen boys, prove he's still relevant, make them believe in Christmas again and he can keep his job. Failure to do so will result in his ass getting tossed out of the business forever. But he can't let anyone know who he really is so he disguises himself, takes a job as a janitor at the prep school the three boys attend, gets them all to change their attitudes and believe right on Christmas Eve, saves his job. The end. Bears noting that Christmas was never in danger in this one, the board wasn't gonna shut down the holiday, they were just looking to give his jelly-belly the boot, but Christmas would have continued on in another form. So this whole thing was about Santa covering his ass.

Okay, now that that's out of the way… OH HOLY SHIT! Look, this past month I've gotten used to the distinctive elements present in most Hallmark Channel original movies, the hallmarks of a Hallmark if you will. Overly sweet and cloying sentiment, bad acting, cheap sets, cinematography that looks as if the whole thing was shot with an iPhone, dialogue that sounds as if it was lifted right out of a greeting card… which, now that I think about it kinda makes sense. All of those elements are to be expected so it came as no surprise to have each and every one of them present and accounted for here. Judd Nelson's performance as Santa Claus, that was the unexpected, like finding a turd in a salad bar. (F@%king Applebee's!)

Now if you're a person in my age range… I'm so sorry, but like me you probably loved Nelson in 80s films like The Breakfast Club and St. Elmo's Fire as well as felt sorry for him in the 90s sitcom Suddenly Susan. You might have also caught him in the 2000 made-for-TV movie Cabin by the Lake where he played a deranged piece of shit who grabbed women off the street, took them up to said cabin, drowned them in the also mentioned lake and chained them at the bottom, arranged in some underwater nightmare garden. Trust me when I say that his performance then was nowhere near as creepy as the way he portrayed Santa in this thing. I seriously can't even describe it, there really are no words. (They should have sent a poet.)

When he meets two of his assigned pre-teen marks and tells them that he knows them both intimately, goes into details about their likes and dislikes, their hobbies and their dreams, it comes off as if he's lustily reading about both of them from a Playmate of the Month fact sheet. The very next scene should have been the two boys running to find a grown-up. Later on in the film Santa (or Kris Frost as he's calling himself) tells his elf assistant to book him a couple gigs as a mall Santa because he's in need of some "lap-time". EWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!! I can't even go on with this because talking about it makes me want to take another shower. Already had seven of them after watching this and I just can't get clean! But here, check out this pic from the movie below, peep the look on Santa-Nelson's face and just know that he's traded in his sleigh for a windowless van.

"This? Oh just putting some additions on
the old torture dungeon, thanks for asking."

Cancel Christmas is the one that broke me, I'm done with Hallmark. Not giving up on the mission with only three days left, but I won't be finishing the journey with those greeting card peddling bastards. Not after this. Luckily this close to Christmas there's bad holiday films dropping everywhere so I'll have no shortage of ports in the storm. Just this morning my friend Kate hit me with a list of suggestions, classic bad fare like Earnest Saves Christmas, Almost an Angel with Paul Hogan and Jingle All the Way with Arnold Schwarzenegger. Any one of them alone could induce vomiting, madness, coma or death, but I'd watch all three in one sitting before I let Hallmark have it's way with me again.

Now I gotta go seal up my fireplace because I am not letting that f@%ker in my house or anywhere near my kid! Santa Claus is coming to town… hide the children!

DAY 20: NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH GAY APPAREL.

"It's not just me, you see her
up there too, right?"

You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen. But do you recall Cherish and Voodoo and Desire and Luscious? You probably don't because they're not some imaginary flying horned dogs, they're real people (sorta), flesh and blood and bone. They put that flesh on display working as dancers over at Blue Ballz, but not anything like the Dancer that Rudolph knew. There is a girl named Vixen working down there though, so that's a weird coincidence. And there was a chick named Prancer but she came to a bad end, owed money to the wrong people. They found her stuffed in a chimney somewhere a couple years ago and… Oh, I just got the irony in that.

I mention those ladies because I'm wondering how come during this month of holiday movies… hell, forget this past month, try never in my life have I seen a movie about Christmas magic coming to people like the staff down at Blue Ballz? Girls working the pole or the street or the docks, the library or wherever else such women hang out to ply their trade. Didn't know you could get a lap dance down at the local library, did you? Things change, harsh economy breeds desperate times and even more desperate librarians, take advantage fellas. God knows I do. But where's their story? Where's their Christmas miracle? What's the message here, people? Those girls don't deserve a happy ending now and again? Other than the happy endings they usually deal with that is.

I might have felt differently had that been the deal with Debbie Macomber's Call Me Mrs. Miracle. (Yeah, another one by that Macomber bitch, just slapping her name on everything.) Doris Roberts stars as the titular… angel… ghost… magic elf… Santa in drag? I was never quite sure, they were pretty vague about that. She basically just shows up, gets in everyone's business, meddles in their affairs, somehow everything works out in the end and then she walks off and vanishes into thin air. It was pretty much the same as the character she played in Everybody Loves Raymond, except for the vanishing part. Of course I'm only assuming she never vanished on the show, I never watched it, everybody loved Raymond but me.

My wife informed me that this was the second Mrs. Miracle movie staring Roberts. Guess they're trying to build a franchise around the old girl. Emphasis on the word 'old' so yeah, good luck with that Hallmark. When I heard that, I was afraid that maybe I wouldn't be able to catch up with the complex story lines that must surely have carried over from the first one. Luckily for me my wife actually watches dreck like this of her own freewill (I know, right!) and she'd seen the first one, assured me there was no carry over, that this film would stand alone and I could easily follow it. Whew… relief! So like part one of the series, part two involves Mrs. Miracle swooping her old ethereal ass into the lives a couple of people with first-world problems. (Love that phrase.) There's Holly (They love using that name in these things.) A single woman with no kids of her own (for a change) but she is caring for her nephew Gabe whose mom is dead and dad had been deployed to Iraq. (This was last year when we were still doing that.) Obviously I'm not gonna say anything about Holly's situation, she's doing a good thing there so she gets a pass. There are those who might call my objectivity and integrity into question for that (and you know who you are) but go suck a carrot, I'm not ragging on Iraq war hero story lines. Besides, there's so much more fodder to be found in the story of Jake, son of a wealthy department store mogul who's been having a rough go of it getting his dad to believe in Christmas since mom died… on Christmas Eve of course, twenty f@%king years ago. Since that day they've taken an annual Christmas trip to the Virgin Islands to hide out and avoid the holidays altogether. Really? The guy's biggest problem in life is a yearly trip to a resort and he needs help from on high?

Remember Voodoo, one of the girls I mentioned before? Yeah, her annual problems around the holidays are things like being able to afford keeping the heat on, having to go down on the landlord when she falls short with the rent, hoping all three of her latch-key kids will be there alive and healthy when she gets home after pulling a double shift.

But Voodoo will work shit out for herself Mrs. Miracle, you go ahead and help Jake fall in love with Holly and then reconnect with his rich father. Well worth your time. Don't worry about Voodoo, she'll be… hold on, just been told that Voodoo died last night. Tragic accident at the club, seems they don't make poles like they used to… and she'd put on a few pounds in recent years, dangerous combination. Oh well. So where you off to now Mrs. M? Going to help a busy lawyer and his doctor wife find time this busy holiday season to take their kids on a ski vacation so they can bond on the slopes of Aspen? Well that's just awesome. You go girl! Can't wait to check that out in part 3.

Quick thought before you go Mrs. M, the State's going over to pick up Voodoo's three kids later today, think maybe you could…? No? At least maybe help keep them together for the holidays? Not even gonna…? They can go stand on their heads in hell for all you care? Alrighty then.

And a Merry Christmas to you Mrs. Miracle!

DAY18/19: YES VIRGINIA… SANTA'S A BASTARD!

Doing double duty on this one because something just occurred to me yesterday. I really like using the word duty. (Heh heh… sounds like making poop.) But that's not what occurred to me, just felt like mentioning it. What hit me was the fact that technically I've been a day behind on this movie thing the whole time. Started when I watched the first flick on December 1st yet I didn't write and post until the 2nd, been doing that ever since. Not a crime or nothing (Is it?) but what that means is, I keep going this way and I'll be doing the last one, the 24th post on Christmas morning. Somehow I don't think that would fly too well in my home. "Hang on son, Daddy's just gotta write and post this last bit of venom and then we can open presents. Gimme another hour. Merry Christmas… stop crying!"

Besides, no one's reading these anyway. Holiday shit going on, shopping to do, parties to go to, busy in the brain trying to guess which relative is gonna come out of the closet this year — because they always do it at the holiday table. Fun to watch but really, what up with that? Still, there's YOU of course… not that YOU'RE the one coming out of the closet. (Are you?) I mean you're sticking around and I thank you for indulging me in that way. Some out there (like my wife) might say you're enabling me, but she doesn't know about us! She doesn't understand our bond! Why can't she let us be happy? Even still, it'd be a lot to expect you to be here on Christmas Day. So like I said up top about the double duty (got to say it again… hot diggity), watched two movies yesterday, gonna post about both in one shot today and then we'll be square, all even Steven. And then if per chance there's something you want to tell me, a holiday admission or declaration you want to make, I'll listen. You're safe here.

My wish? I'd really like those
two hours back… please?

DAY 18: The DVD cover pic for A Christmas Wish is probably one of the most misleading things I've ever seen. That is not hyperbole by the way, totally serious. Through its use of colorful imagery, festive logo treatment and Kristy Swanson's playful smirk, one would think they were signing on for a feel-good, happy family film. BULLSHIT! There's more color used in that pic than in the whole damn movie. Everything in this flick is gray! The sky, the ground, the clothes, the buildings, the characters lives, their outlooks, their futures, their eventual sad deaths, all of it, gray!

Starts out with a cheery scene in a rundown trailer park as Swanson's character, Martha piles her three raggedy kids into their old car and heads out on the highway, ten days before Christmas. Why? Because daddy took all the money from the coffee can and all the furniture and split. "Even the big cable spool coffee table and the cinder block shelves?" Yup, bastard took the good stuff!  Did leave a note though, so he can't be all bad. Guy coulda just flipped 'em the bird as he drove off into the night, but he took time to put pen to paper when he told them to go suck a fire hydrant. Kind of considerate, right?

After that joyful start we're treated to an opening credits montage of Martha going from town to town with children in tow, looking for work and a place to stay. We get a little lesson in nomenclature from Martha when we learn that her name is a derivation of Mary. So what we really see at the beginning is a woman kinda sorta named Mary going from town to town at Christmas looking for a place to stay. Get what they did there? It was pretty subtle so I want to make sure you didn't miss it. Mary… sorry… Martha finds a job as a waitress and a place to stay in the tiny town of Mapleton…somewhere USA. Don't recall them actually mentioning the state, but wherever it was, it was flat, they wore big hats and ate everything covered in gravy. (The gravy thing seemed nice though.) And then into the diner and Martha's life walked the only young, single and good looking guy in town, so of course he's on Martha like gravy on everything. His name BTW is — wait for it — Joe(seph). No they didn't! Yeah they did!

The movie eventually comes to its requisite happy ending but it goes through a mountain of sad to get there. Martha's car bleeds oil and dies, her son's getting beaten up in school, the motel manager is going to kick them all out on Christmas Eve, Joe looks to be hooking up with his old flame, the diner's closing down so there goes the job, then her husband tracks her down to serve her with divorce papers and take the boy away. All this leads avowed sinner and non-believer Martha to drop to her knees and pray for help from on high for the first time in her life. And when I say drop I mean literally dropped, shit sounded like it hurt.

But God hears her (How could he not with her kneecaps cracking on the pavement like that?) and apparently says "I was just messin' with you, girl." And everything gets fixed in the last ten minutes. I then realized that life is worth living, climbed out of the pit of despair this movie flung me into, pulled the gun out of my mouth and went onto the next cinematic adventure.

Jennifer Garner, before she 
suffered her Afleck-tion. 
Please forgive me? 

DAY 19: Second film of the day, Rose Hill was a special case. Technically it was not a holiday film, even though there were a couple of Christmas scenes involved. Even so, given the parameters I had laid out for this whole deal, I wouldn't have watched it under normal circumstances. However, a very dear friend of mine had a copy on DVD and invited me over to her house to watch it. Reason being that a mutual friend of ours had kind of a substantial role in the movie. So I went to my friend's home, which was very nicely decorated for the holidays, enjoyed a meal and good conversation and then we watched the movie, which I'm not going to talk about because this one isn't about the movie. It was about the experience. Gathering around the hearth to enjoy good food, good company and good times is what the holidays are all about and I believe we nailed it, mission accomplished. Recall that the point of all this was to try to capture the holiday spirit through cheesy Hallmark-type movies. Well Rose Hill was a Hallmark Original, says so right there on the package. And it did a hell of a lot more to get me into the spirit than Recipe for a Perfect Christmas did, that's for damn sure. The feeling won't last though, got one coming up staring Judd Nelson as Santa Claus that will probably send me back down into the pit. Matter of fact, where's that gun Kristy Swanson almost made me eat? Should probably keep that handy.

While I was out last night making merry (giggity) I missed seeing Tom F@%king Brady and the New England Patriots' bring Tim (No Expletive) Tebow and the surging Denver Broncos down to Earth. Not a real big deal to me, but since I haven't flashed a little TFB up here in about three weeks, mentioning it gave me an excuse to do so. I'm doing this for you, to make your life better… and you're welcome.

 
There we go, all caught up nice, neat and tidy. Ready to finish strong these last five days! I should probably stretch first though. Don't wanna pull a hammy.

DAY 17: POR FAVOR? NO MAS!

AW HELL NO!

Home stretch! Last week of this self imposed holiday hazing ritual. Eight more of these wretched films and then it's nothing but the printed word for me until 2013. Not really of course, just being dramatic. Give up TV, what are you, crazy? I'd sooner give up my buddy Darryl who's hiding out from the cops on account of a bunch of iPads he may or may not have boosted back in November. By the way, if any law enforcement officials are reading this, he's at his ex-girlfriend's spot, 2363 Floral Street over on the East Side, apartment F. And yeah, he totally did steal those things. And if current girlfriend Jessica has eyes on this, you may wanna get over there too sugar. Darryl's ex lives in a one room studio with one bed and no couch, do the math.

What? Told you I'd give him up before TV. Well… I didn't rat my TV out to the law, did I? Besides, screw Darryl, serves him right, not giving me an iPad… the jerkhole.

So Hallmark last night was showing Christmas Comes Home to Canaan staring Billy Ray Cyrus as Daniel, a single father and some other shit that I wouldn't know about because I simply did not have the strength to even attempt watching it. Thing was based on a novel written by Kenny Rogers for crying out loud. The guy who gave us the Achy Breaky in a movie written by the guy who gave us The Gambler is not a battle I thought to have a hope of winning. So yeah, ran away like a little bitch on over to the Lifetime Network, normally a haven for movies about women getting beaten with sticks. Well the sticks had the night off and I got this.

A savory blend of God-awful with just a pinch of Nutmeg.

Recipe for a Perfect Christmas taught me that you can take any random story that could take place at any other time of year, put a tarted-up Douglas Fir somewhere in the background and you get to call it a Christmas movie. Even if it has f@%k-all to do with the holidays on it's own. But I ain't mad at this one. Actually I'm not sure how I feel about this movie, it was such a mixed bag.

Christine Baranski stars as a mother who shows up in New York City to pay her daughter a surprise visit. Her daughter J.J., played by Carly Pope just got a promotion to be a food critic at a trendy magazine. For her first assignment, J.J. has two weeks to hit several eateries and write a one page review for the next issue. Not one page for each place she visits, just one page about all or some or even just one of the restaurants. But because of drama with her mom, she fails at the task. Bitch got paid full time, over two weeks to go to four or five restaurants and couldn't find time to generate one single page? I have a full time job doing something totally shitty, and in my free time (emphasis on FREE) I've been watching two hours worth of crap nightly and hacking out content for seventeen days straight and she couldn't pump out a single f@%king page in all that time?

It was at that point that I wished this would turn into any other random Lifetime movie and end up with sticks involved. Now I realize this all makes it sound like I hated the movie, but I didn't really. I hated J.J., but not the film because it was about food. There were scenes in restaurants and kitchens and there was really gorgeous food on display, so that went a long way toward winning favor with me. I wound up being conflicted, angry and hungry at the same time. Never a good combination and there's a platter of Christmas cookies in my kitchen that almost paid the price for my state of mind. Would've been ugly if not for a very disturbing plot point. J.J. sets mom up with a local chef who's trying to get reviewed in her magazine. The deal is he takes mom out and shows her 'a good time' to keep her out of J.J.'s hair and his joint sees some ink. So J.J. whores her mom out for some alone time, still can't get a f@%king page written and then, just for shits and giggles. she falls in love with the chef and steals him back. That tragic Greek twist grossed me right out and saved the cookie platter from a horrible demise.

You know what? I said I wasn't sure how I felt about this movie before. Now I'm sure, I hated it. Gorgeous food be damned, the characters all sucked. The whole lot of them needed to get hit with sticks… and stones. Or hit by a truck… hauling sticks and stones… spray painted with dirty names just to make sure it hurt a little more.

What kinda world do we live in where I regret not choosing Billy Ray Cyrus over a movie about food? Lifetime Network, you're the Devil!

DAY 16: JUST RELAX, IT'LL ALL BE OVER SOON.

Every once in a while I like to throw convention to the wind and just do things a little different and last night was no exception. What, I'm gonna just sit around watching a Hallmark Christmas movie on a Friday night? What am I, an old woman? Hell no! In the prime of my life baby, gotta live a little so I headed on over to FX Channel to watch their holiday movie for the evening. Still with my fat ass glued to the couch though, so really no difference there I guess. Not really that much of a change after all. Still just a grown man parked on a couch watching Christmas movies alone on a Friday night.

My life is sad.

But hey, it provides you with reason to pity me and believe yourself to be all superior and therefore feel better about your life. So I guess I have a purpose here on this planet. All about the finding the silver linings, people.

Well like I said, didn't do the Hallmark Channel thing this time, FX had Christmas with the Kranks staring Tim Allen and Jaimie Lee Curtis as a couple of empty-nesters who decide to skip Christmas one year in favor of saving the money and going on a holiday cruise. The neighborhood folk don't respond well to this news as there are certain holiday traditions the Kranks would be ignoring, one being that theirs would be the only dark house on the block and noticeably missing a giant lighted snowman (Frosty as they're known) on the roof like everyone else. This leads to a campaign of terror against the Kranks in an attempt to force them to "Free Frosty" among other such traditions.

I'm thinking that the past two weeks of exposure to schlock and my subsequent lowered expectations for what Christmas movies should be like these days helped me out a little with this one, the bar's been set pretty low. Even still, I find it quite surprising that this film got more than a few laughs out of me. They pulled off some decent physical comedy and a few good sight gags. Really, when is a frozen cat not funny? Unless you're a cat lover, which I'm not, so that shit's hilarious. There's also a scene with Allen's character Luther Krank trying to eat a fruit cup after having his face paralyzed by Botox that really got me as well. And I gotta give Jamie Lee props for putting it all out there (literally) in the name of comedy. At 45 years-old (back in '04 when this was done), she still had the moxie to appear in a bikini for the camera, light years away from her glory days doing nude scenes in flicks like Trading Places. (Because you can never mention that woman without talking about that. It's the law!) And she wore it well I might add, old girl's still got the goods, nice to see. (Thanks Activia™.) Then Allen had to go and ruin it by walking into the shot in a banana hammock. I ran out of the room at that point, didn't return for almost ten minutes just to be sure it was over. Why? Why would he do that to America? Damn you Tim Allen, damn you to hell!

Had no idea that this movie was based on a novel called Skipping Christmas by John Grisham of all people. Didn't know that dude could write anything that didn't involve a gavel and a guy in a suit running franticly for his life from a legal system full of corruption and blood. That's why I never went to law school, wouldn't have made a good lawyer… not much of a runner, more of a sitter. It's why I'm doing this instead, no cardio needed in order to blog.

Anywho, the ending of this one kinda got to me as it showed a community coming together to help a couple of their fellow neighbors in need. The message was administered in a pretty heavy-handed dose but it still had the desired effect on me and I felt pretty good after this one.

What? Quit looking at me like that. I'm not a robot, I have feelings. Just don't really have need to use them that much. Nice to know they still work though.

DAY 15: I'M GETTIN' TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT!

Didn't wanna watch, but the dogs, man… 

the dogs told me to.

Haven't recapped for the new people in a few days. Yeah, as if there are any new people. But, in the interest of hope, here it is. The mission: 24 cheesy holiday films in 24 days, one a night from the first of December up to Christmas Eve. After that I'll take my television out back and shoot it, then have my sanity declared legally dead.

You see the picture over there? A Christmas Wedding Tail, yeah this film was about a pair of dogs that are the reason Thing 2 and Thing 1 there in the background got together. Yes, Thing 2 is Jennie Garth from 90210. (The TV show, not the zip code. I don't think she actually can afford to live there anymore.) I don't know who Thing 1 is, he may or may not have been out to read your meter last month for all I know. But wait, not only are the dogs the focus of the narrative, they actually are the narrators. YES! Jay Mohr and his wife Nikki Cox (Awesome name!) are the voices of Buddy the Retriever and Sherri the poodle, respectively. And despite the way the poster makes it look, the poodle was owned by the groom. (Suspect!)

Gonna say something about this film that — if you know me — will sound like a compliment, trust me though when I say I do not mean it that way. This movie was like porn. "What Ron? Then that must mean you loved it!" No, I said I didn't mean it as a compliment — for once — let me explain. Contrary to popular belief, sex scenes in porn are not scripted. The performers are simply directed to basically talk about whatever is happening to them at the time.

"Oh yeah! You're (BLANKING) my (BLANK) so hard!"

"Yeah, you like it when I (BLANK) your (BLANK)?"

"Yeah baby, (BLANK) on my (BLANKS)!"

Gonna stop now before Chris Hanson walks out of the kitchen, tells me to take a seat and asks me what I'm doing in my own house. And if you got that joke then you are alright in my book. Chris Hanson's the mother f@%king man!

Sorry, got very off track with that one. My bad. But the way porn scenes are made, that's what this movie felt like. I doubt there was an actual script. I think the director put Jennie Garth and Thing 1 in random scenes and just told them to wing it based on whatever the hell they were supposed to be doing.

"Hey look, um… our dogs seem to like each other."

"Yes… they sure do. Want to go on a date?"

"Okay. Well… um… my dog's name is Buddy and I like food."

"My dog's name is Sherri and I love you. What… too soon? I don't have words to say."

I know that technically this method of acting is known as improv, but that's only when it's done by professionals like Steve Carell and Wayne Brady. In the hands of amateurs it's terrible, kinda the way that surgery performed by amateurs is considered murder. 

I was embarrassed for everyone in this movie. They just looked mortified to be a part of it. I'm sure even the dogs fired their agents after this thing was done shooting. Oh yeah, the story, such as it was went something like: Boy's dog meets girl's dog, boy and girl fall in love, boy is a widower with two daughters, girl is a widow with three sons, boy and girl get engaged, kids hate it, there's conflict, bunch of montage scenes about picking wedding planners, cakes, wedding singers and dresses, boy and girl break up over dumb shit — totally girl's fault (bitch) — kids get boy and girl back together, boy and girl become man and wife on Christmas Day. At the ceremony the dogs become rabid and eat the flower girl but are destroyed by Animal Control officers before they can totally devour the ring bearer. Kid lives, grows up to be a scarred and bitter man with a hatred of Christmas and canines. Begins a string of holiday home invasions wherein he bashes the family dog to death with a wooden club. Media dubs him the Yule Log Killer, a nation-wide manhunt tracks him down and finds him hiding out in a bunker under RNC Headquarters in Washington, DC.

Okay, somewhere in there the actual film and the fantasy in my head merged and I'm not really sure where that happened. But my version is better than the one they had so let's go with it, my idea of a happy ending. Of course I might be biased… you know, what with my meds having run out three days ago and all. No worries.

"Yo Ronny, you ready to watch another movie, baby?"

Indeed I am, voice of deceased funk legend Rick James. How'd you get in my head?

DAY 14: I CAN'T FEEL MY EYES ANYMORE!

HA HA… That guy's name is Mailhouse!

All right Hallmark, I get it already! Small towns are wonderful places of light and warmth, big cities are evil vortexes of soul-sucking darkness! Folks from Beaver Lick, Montana are the salt of the Earth and people from Manhattan are rim-riding anal jockeys! Yes, I understand now, the heathen way city slickers celebrate the season by giving thoughtless presents like gift cards for Subway and the Apple Store to friends they only know through Facebook can't compare to the simple joy of getting a plate of warm gingerbread cookies from someone you've known all your life, like Mrs. Dunklenuts from up the road. (Losing you virginity to Mrs. Dunklenuts' over-developed daughter Cindy down in the root cellar when you were both 16 was also a nice thing.) That's how the holidays are supposed to be. Thank you Hallmark for hitting me over the head with this message and teaching me this lesson over and over and over lo these last couple of weeks!

Day 14's holiday waterboarding session was The Christmas Pageant starring Melissa Gilbert. I noticed during the opening credits that this one was produced by Larry Levinson, that name might not be familiar to you but it sure is to me as he produces a lot of Hallmark Channel stuff and has had a brilliant career at making me sad. Anyway, Gilbert stars as Vera Parks (but she'll always be Half-Pint to me) a big time theater director from that bastion of bright lights and fornication that is New York City. Vera finds herself out of a job for the first time in a long career of pissing off showbiz folk and no one in town will even hire her to direct traffic. Except there is one offer, to direct the annual Christmas pageant in a small town in upstate New York. Of course she takes the gig. It was either that or lower herself to directing porn… and you know how I would've voted.

At this point I'm going to just save myself some time and direct you to go back to DAY 3 and read what I said about that movie, Farewell Mr. Kringle, because it's pretty much the same film. Big city girl in a small town, all attitude and snooty, spends some time there, learns their quaint ways, falls in love, leaves the city behind and becomes a Stepford Wife.

In-between all that there's attempts at physical comedy that are uncomfortable to watch. Vera uses a hand mixer to make cookies at the town's annual baking party and… oh no, she's an idiot, batter flies everywhere and hilarity ensues. There are attempts at warmth like the townspeople letting Vera have the honor of lighting the tree at the annual tree-lighting ceremony. Come to think of it, this town has an assload of annual crap happening. Springtime must be a hoot when they get to the annual mating rituals. The movie just tries too hard to stuff too many elements into 90-minutes of screen time. The town bitch reveals she's in the midst of a cancer scare, we're then given 30 seconds to live with that before she gets the phone call saying she's A-OK and suddenly she's the nicest person around. The shyest girl in town turns out to have an opera quality voice but refuses to sing in the pageant because of stage fright. "I'm sorry, I… I just can't sing in… oh all right, I'll do it!" That was in real-time, people, it happened that fast. One minute she's a scared little bitch, next minute she's a diva making the townspeople weep with her voice. And the love story between Gilbert and the leading man must have happened during the commercial breaks, because I don't even remember seeing it.

I am going to have to go on record though and say that Melissa Gilbert has a nice rack. Pretty much the only positive I took away from this movie. Everything else was simply dreck. Is it wrong that right after I watched this I caught this week's episode of American Horror Story and felt a lot better? That can't be normal, can it? Small town values and Christmas cheer have me running for the exits but haunted houses and demon pregnancies make me feel comfortable and safe? Yeah, I should probably see someone about that. Like a therapist or a priest… or a prostitute. Hey, whatever it takes, that's how we do things in the city. So suck it, Hallmark!

DAY 13: THE DELIRIUM MEANS IT'S WORKING

When Dean Cain is your most famous face, you're in trouble.

Well it happened. Sat down to watch another holiday movie, bowl of popcorn on my lap, Diet Dr. Pepper close at hand, dog curled up to my left, better judgement safely packed away until the new year, turned on the tube and let the Hallmark Channel serve one up. Fifteen minutes in and it hit me, I'd seen this one before. Holiday Engagement, first movie I watched back on Day 1, didn't even realize. They're all starting to look alike to me, like the cast of the Jersey Shore or the Smurfs. 

Kinda scary but nothing that will deter me. Just gonna have to pay closer attention in the future, start taking notes. Maybe start tagging the ones I've seen like they do with animals. Fortunately I had one in the DVR for just such an occasion, a back-up plan, The Case for Christmas staring Dean Cain. Didn't say it was a good back-up plan.

I was going to start off by saying that Dean Cain portrays a lawyer in this movie but that's not really the correct way to put it. That would've made it sound as if he acted like someone other than himself. Dean Cain doesn't act, he's just Dean Cain… in everything. Put tights and a cape on him and is he Superman? No, he's just Dean Cain in tights and a cape. Dress him up like a fireman and hey, Dean Cain's running around in rubber boots and an oxygen mask. Don't get me wrong, got nothing against the dude, seems like a nice guy and all. Although he was surprisingly life-like and convincing as Scott Peterson, that true-life douche who killed his pregnant wife Laci in that TV movie they made out of the tragedy. Heh heh, maybe he wasn't really acting in that one. Wait a minute… hold the phone… that could be it. That might have been when we saw the real Dean Cain and the rest of the time he's been doing the real acting job! Perhaps the real Dean Cain is a phenomenal assbag who wouldn't ever get hired if he was himself so he puts on an act and we're all buying into it. Maybe that's why he's such a one-note thespian, because he's putting all his acting energies into one magnificent performance piece that is the life and career of Dean Cain!

Oh my God I have got to get out of this house!

Look, I'm just gonna hit the high notes on this one really quick and then go get some air, maybe score some Starbucks. They still have Starbucks out in the world, right? It's been so long.

Okay, Dean Cain is a… he wears a suit, carries a briefcase and goes to court, make of it what you will. He's a single father with a daughter and a struggling practice. In desperate need of clients, he agrees to defend a man named Kris Kringle who's being sued in a class action suit by a bunch of disgruntled social retards who blame Kringle (aka Santa Claus… duh) for disappointing them as children. How a case like that even gets to court in the first place is not the problem here. The real problem is how this lawyer guy meets some old fat dude in a lobby somewhere, takes his crazy case, finds out the fat dude has no place to stay and invites him to crash at his place. Next scene Kringle is babysitting lawyer guy's 9 year-old daughter, reading her bedtime stories and tucking her in while daddy's at the office. Yeah, there's the Hallmark movie rule about taking in holiday strays and all but this is pushing it. Guess Cain's lawyer character didn't learn about pedophiles at whatever online college he attended. Thanks University of Pelham!

After that ridiculousness, a bunch of court room stuff happens and there's legal mumbo-jumbo and in the end case dismissed, Christmas is saved. Hooray. I didn't really care because I couldn't get into this one, too distracted by its stunning lack of Vivica Fox. She's been in like three of four of these so far and I've gotten kinda used to having her around. Checked her IMDB profile though and it looks like we've reached the limit, seen the only holiday films she's made, no more Foxy Chocolate for Ronny… until next year! Yeah, look what my girl is cooking up to give me next Christmas!

Just as the prophesy foretold!

Yeah, she's coming back, people! Next year I'm gonna get me some more of the good stuff, gettin' me some duck-face because Ronny likes it pouty! That's right, Vivica Fox has died for your sins but she'll be back in time to save us all from the Mayan death clock and teach us the true nature of The Force! She is your master now, bitches!

Okay, I really need to get off this couch, take off this Snuggie and get out of the house like now!