HEY! You there.
Where do you think you're going?
Put the mouse down.
Don't think you can get away that easy. You clicked. You're here now. You can't leave. Nobody's leaving...
...Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse.
Clark Griswold, Christmas, 1989
Hey Clark, I love you.
Clark Griswold. He's my new hero. What a guy. I mean look at him. No matter what, he's determined to have a wonderful old-fashioned Christmas, surrounded by his beloved family. He's worked all year for this moment - THE moment when he shows his beloved family just how much he loves them. What a sweet and generous man. Ho. Ho. Ho.
But, as we all know, Clark has it tough. No matter how hard he works, or how good he is, Christmas, well, just sucks this year, and it ain't his fault.
It isn't my fault either. Even if I did have the money for presents this year, which I don't, all I need to do is check out the front page of any newspaper and read about melamine in baby formula, lead in toys, global warming or a Walmart worker trampled to death for a $9.99 Incredible Hulk DVD, and I get a zap. It's not so much about all the bad news; it's about the murder of the trust I had in a president who I believed was working for the common good of humanity and the planet.
I mean, wasn't that his job?
But even when his world is crumbling around him, Clark just doesn't give up.
Take a look around here, Ellen. We're at the threshold of hell.
See? That's why Clark's my hero. He's just like me, he can relate to me. He feels my pain because I'm looking around and seeing the same damn thing - you know, the threshold of hell and all that. But still, he keeps on plugging away...
All is calm. All is bright, for a minute anyway. Felt just like that on election day.
And Clark? He doesn't want much for Christmas. Just a few strands of twinkling lights, a little compassion, a little money, a little peace on Earth, and of course, a little justice,... just like me...
So raise your Marty Moose glasses into the air, and join me as we make our Christmas wishes...
Hey. If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like Frank Shirley George W. Bush, my boss my president, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane Pennsylvania Avenue with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, fore-fleshing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is. Hallelujah. Holy shit. Where's the Tylenol?
Okay, I've tried. I haven't opened my 401k. I have stayed hopeful. I voted for change. Heck, I CAMPAIGNED for change. I have my Christmas lights up and I'll get a tree this year, but I promise you, it's not going in the living room.
And believe me, I damn well know I ain't Santa Claus. I can't even afford to be an elf.
But as disgusted as I am at the prospect of having Christmas be an additional burden on my budget right now, I have to keep going, just like Clark.
Why?
Because I have a little boy who has worked his tail off for this Christmas reward. And he deserves it. And I'm a sweet and generous mom.
He eats all his dinner - even spinach for pete's sake.
He's cleaned his room. He's done his homework. He's listened to his teacher and brought home all A's. He's told the truth even when he knows it will get him in trouble. He's shared with others. He's walked the dog. He's made his bed.
I hope you kids see what a silly waste of resources this was.
So why - monkey shit George Bush - is my little boy getting the shaft this Christmas and not you? Did you hold up any of your responsibilities? Did you share? Did you tell the truth? Did you even walk your dog?
Why did you screw all of us and take away my son's Christmas bonus and replace it with the jelly-of-the month club? And don't you dare tell me it's the gift that keeps on giving. Just 'cause you serve up bullshit doesn't mean I'm eating it anymore. So I want to know - why did you do this to my kid?
Huh? I can't hear your answer. Be quiet everyone.
What's that sound? You hear it? It's a funny, squeaky sound.
You all know what he's saying. Time to panic everyone.
You monkey shit Bush, you and your Mississippi Leg Hound Dick Cheney continue to drool over your money and your power and your cruelty without even a pang of conscience. You don't even look over at the damage you've done to our country. You continue to damage it even more on your way out the door, and you think you and your ilk will get away with this? How do you justify whistling while you have made the world want us dead for the holidays? While you have tried to kill the planet? While so many children won't have presents - or even SAFE presents under the tree this year? Heck, forget the presents - what about safe food and water? Or a roof over their heads and a warm place to sleep this winter?
Oh, that uh, that there's an RV. Yeah, yeah, I borrowed it off a buddy of mine. He took my house, I took the RV. It's a good looking vehicle, ain't it?
Cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, fore-fleshing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit Bush (I refuse to call you President) - I want Santa to bring you right here - I want to look you in the stink eye and have you explain to me just how you look at yourself in the mirror.
Do you even have a reflection, or are you a creature that lives by sucking the life from everything around you? Was this a fun power trip? How do you fucking live with yourself?
I had a lot of help from Jack Daniels.
My little boy deserves an explanation and an apology. I want you fucking standing right here in your robe tied up with a big red bow, and I want answers. (Oh, why am I holding this chainsaw over your head? Ummm...just wanna fix this newel post right here.) I want restitution. I want justice. We need a coffin - I mean a tree....
I want you to suffer the way I do, every day, trying to buy food, trying to stay healthy because I have no insurance, trying to keep us from falling behind on mortgage payments, trying to raise a child, work two jobs, run a home, and have a nice Christmas for the two of us - I want YOU to figure out a way to tell my son that even though he was EXTRA good this year - he's getting a jar of jelly for Christmas.
Knowing you it will probably be prune.
Russ, go get the hammer.
Clark, what do you need a hammer for?
I'm gonna catch it in the coat... And smack it with the hammer.
Sparky, (may I call you Sparky?) you always know just how I feel, and just what to do about these pesky presidents - I mean, rodents. You are a true American hero.
Hey monkey shit Bush, tell us, why is the carpet all wet? Well, something had to come through the window. Something had to break the stereo.
Oh, and Congress? What the hell? Do you all piss your pants and forget who you are every half hour? What a bunch of boobs you are, doing nothing but watching Bush drain the RV's toilet into the sewer. You know that's illegal, right?
Merry Christmas Congress. Shitter's full
Actually, that deserves a double shot.
And maybe a close-up from another angle.
If it fills with gas, I pity the person who lights a match within ten yards of it.
I swear, if these criminals are allowed to walk away from this without being dragged from their beds and delivered to me tied up with festive red bows so I can show them EXACTLY where I'm going to put my Christmas tree this year - I'm going to seriously lose it.
I want them all to pick pine needles out of their ass for the rest of their cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, fore-fleshing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit lives.
And that's ALL I want for Christmas this year.
Hey President-elect Obama, as much as I really like you - if you want me to go sailin' down a hill with nothing between the ground and my brains but a piece of government plastic yet again, I demand that I be allowed to put my Christmas tree exactly where it belongs this year.
Meanwhile, my little boy and I will be kicking off our fun, old-fashioned family Christmas and heading out into the country in our front-wheel-drive sleigh to embrace the frosty majesty of the winter landscape and select that most important of Christmas symbols - my third job.
I don't know what to say, except it's Christmas and we're all in misery.
So monkey shit Bush, leg hound Cheney and the rest of you creeps in this disgusting administration, welcome to our home - what's left of it. Can I refill your egg nog? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave you for dead?
Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. Kiss your ass. Happy Hanukkah.
In closing, with my Marty Moose glass raised high in the air (and behind the television so Palin can't shoot it) I officially dedicate Christmas 2008 to Clark Griswold, my hero. He's taught me everything I need to know about having a good, old-fashioned holiday and how to kick the ass of presidents - I mean pick the perfect presents - and make it a hap, hap, happy Christmas.
Okay monkey shit Bush, time to bend over. You'll make a perfect Christmas Star for our tree.
I'll bet if I floor it, we can get it up there pretty far.