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In This Issue

• Todurken: Hot Poultry Threesome
• New York City Hates The Homeless (Surprise!)
• Pope Lives It Up In Final Days
• Letters to the Feditrix: We Want Orangutans!
• Columbia's Investments Are Really Shady (Another Surprise!)
• Italian Neo-Fascism: Sexier than Ever
• Hidden Origins of your Favorite Holidays
• Macy's Parade Unites Jaded New Yorkers in Disgust
• Slow Motion Gunfight Saves Christmas
• Barnard Feminists Full of It (You Guessed It!)
• Reality TV to follow Nike's Lead, Exploit Third World Women
• Fed Staffer Admits Inappropriate Santa Fantasies
• Family Time Blows (Got you Again!)
• The Obligatory Vegan Option: Tofurky
• Why Holiday Diversity Scares Me
• A Paris Hilton Holiday Comic
• Your Retirement Fund
• Silent Vengeance: Book II
• Wacky Fun Whitey
• Robot Ninjas vs. Zombie Vikings

The holidays: when love and warmth settle into our spirits and banish bitterness. Just kidding. The holidays are bogus and you know it (unless the idea of a virgin birth really does make you want to eat glazed ham and give sweaters to people). Thanksgiving reminds you why your family disgusts you (i.e. they eat too much and know you're a failure), and Santa-mas / Hannukah / Chanukah / Chhanuqagh / Ramadanihad / Kwanzaa is just a pretext for forcing consumerism down your throat till it grabs the back of your head, groans, and you know the rest.

Most of that warm and fuzzy-speak came from the same place you learned everything: television. Holiday specials brought the Yuletide lies to life, and for those precious polka-dot pajama years, we believed.

Well, I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired of Christmas. I'm here to rekindle the holiday spirit, but not by helping the poor. Fuck charity, I want to get rich so I can buy Pokemon for my cousins. So I'm writing the greatest, most inclusive holiday TV special ever: "Holiday Heat: First Blood 2 the 2 Furious Limit." Scope my screenplay:

Holiday Heat: First Blood 2 the 2 Furious Limit

Main Cast:

Fetus Jesus: Haley Joel Osmont with a placenta (no wire hanger attached to his head - networks would disapprove)

Santa: Carrie-Anne Moss

Chahnnuqagh Harry: Any world leader or economic manipulator

Ramadan Dan: Howie Mandel, or Cat Stevens if possible.

Kwanzaa Quentin: Cornel West in cameo role

The Precinct Chief: Robert Duval

 

Scene 1 - The war room at Macy's headquarters. Cocaine, piles of cash, and knives are strewn across a huge desk. Zoom in on cigarette smoke streaming from mouth of shadowy face. A white cat walks across the desk, through the smoke.

Shadowy Face: Have you performed your duties?

Monotonous voices in the darkness (audience senses evil): Yes...as you wished...

Shadowy Face: Initiate the Omega Stratagem (lightning strikes, white cat meows, window shutters bang). Finally, the holidays will be entirely ours. No more family unity and helping others. Only sales, gift cards, and stupid tree-embroidered clothing that people only wear once! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (Exactly nine laughs, because this is the crux!).

Phat lightning strike, then:

Scene 2 - The Shakedown

Bird's-eye-view of Santa and Ramadan Dan standing outside a tenement apartment, guns drawn, ready to bust door down.

Santa: Milwaukee Police! Open up!

Ramadan Dan spits toothpick out of mouth. When toothpick hits ground, huge echo reverberates (audience knows rocked-out occurrences will commence). Ramadan Dan spins toward door, pulls .357 Magnum out of leather jacket, and fires four slugs through the door, killing Random Tenant (played by Enrique Iglesias). Camera follows bullets through door, air, and Iglesias's rib cage.

Santa (shaking beard): Shit! You're outta line!

Santa and Ramadan Dan search the apartment, finding blueprints of the Milwaukee Convention Center, site of the 2003 Pan-Theistic Holiday Conference, several barrels of dynamite, and a Macy's Gift Card. Then they jump out of the window as the building explodes.

Scene 3 - The Chief's Office

The Chief's shirt sleeves are rolled up. Santa Claus and Ramadan Dan (who has new toothpick) slouch in their chairs.

Chief: That loose-cannon stunt of yours took out a whole city block! The mayor's on my ass!

Santa: Cut the bullshit! Nobody else in this department could've discovered that conference bombing plan. We saved the leaders of every major religion, not to mention your ass.

Fetus Jesus, Chhanuqagh Harry, and Kwanzaa Quentin enter. Jesus has nunchucks strapped to his developing spine, Harry has grenades shaped like dreidels, and Quentin...well, it doesn't matter since no one cares about Kwanzaa, but he can have a kendo stick.

Chhanuqagh Harry (spits cigar across room, out the window (Badass!)): Look, Chief, if these slimebags ain't ready, we can do this alone.

Ramadan Dan (pissed off, reaching for his .357): Look, pal, I'm not taking a fast from busting heads.

Fetus Jesus throws a ninja star against the wall and says: Cut the crap, girls. The blueprints trace back to Macy's HQ in Manhattan. We're heading there to uncover what in my Dad's name is going on. You in?

Santa: Shit yeah.

Cast jumps into Jesus' amphibious assault vehicle, the Hover-Christ, and heads to Macy? on 34th Street. They walk into the store side-by-side in slow motion. Rob Zombie's "Dragula" plays in background. (Money shot!)

Standing in the men's shoe section, the Shadowy-Face Macy's Villain is now revealed as the Buddha, played by Chow Yun Fat, shirtless, with two pistols strapped below his armpits.

Buddha: So I'm discovered. But in the end it makes no difference...

Santa Claus: Cut the Zen, fatty! Why'd you do it?

Buddha: Because Buddhism has no holiday fun! Nothing. And Tet doesn't count, it's open to Confucians! It's not fair! En garde!

[Note---What about Bodhi Day?-- ed.]

The next ten minutes are in slow motion. First, Kwanzaa Quentin stubs his toe and leaves. No one notices. Fetus Jesus and Buddha have an extended jujitsu - nunchuck - pistol fight among discounted women's hosiery. Buddha shoots Jesus' placenta, sapping his strength. Finally, Chhanuqagh Harry and Ramadan Dan must work together or perish. Harry throws a dreidel grenade at Buddha, but Buddha catches it in his mouth and defuses it with wizard magic. So Dan whips out his .357 and shoots the grenade. It explodes, and Buddha's jawbone flies off (Blood and brains = 18-35 demographic!).

Harry and Dan dust themselves off and look into each other's eyes. The fire sprinklers burst. Dripping, the two approach each other and kiss. Jesus raises himself off the floor, and gives the camera a thumbs up.

Freeze frame. Roll credits over frame, to the tune of "What's My Name?" by DMX.

Rock! That kicks claymation Rudolph's ass and nose. I just saved your Christmas or whatever cheap holiday you made up to contend with it. Now go ahead and make your holidays those super-commercialized celebrations that you know you would have anyway.