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Archive for December, 2006

Thinking Pains

Posted by s.z. on December 31st, 2006

WorldNetDaily brings us word of the perfect Christmas present for next year for Ann Coulter and others of her ilk.  (I mean people who deny all evidence of evolution — what kind of ilk were YOU thinking of?)

Anyway, it’s a board game disproving evolution, and it was co-designed by Kirk Cameron, the mostly forgotten actor who played “Mike” on “Growing Pains” — so you know it has to be good!

Here are the details: 

“We are very excited about this game because it presents both sides of the creation evolution argument, and in doing so, shows that the contemporary theory of evolution is perhaps the greatest hoax of modern times,” said Cameron, who starred in the award-winning “Growing Pains” television series from 1985-1992.

Per Kirk’s website store, the game is ”unique in that the playing pieces are small rubber brains and each team plays for ‘brain’ cards. Each player uses his or her brains to get more brains, and the team with the most brains wins.”  So, it’s basically “Night of the Living Creationism,” except that while you may be competing with other lifeless, souless creatures, you probably don’t get to eat the brains that you collect.

Here’s more about the game sure to topple Monopoly from it’s money-grubbing throne from Ray Comfort, its other “intelligent” designer. 

“The average person doesn’t know that the evolutionist lives by a blind faith in an unscientific theory (a theory that one scientist called a ‘fairy-tale for grown-ups’). Through the game we show the irrational nature of evolution, using their own beliefs and quotes. This explains why evolutionists have a special language, something we call ‘the language of speculation,’ where they use words like ‘We believe, perhaps, probably, maybe, could have …’ They can’t speak of their theory without it,” said Comfort.

Yeah, if they were really scientific, they’d use much more positive language when discussing their theories!

“To believe in evolutionary ‘transitional forms’ is to hold to the belief that one species evolved into another. However, there is no scientific evidence of any species evolving into another – not in creation, nor in the ‘fossil record.’ Most people don’t know that.”If, in fact, evolution were the truth, there would have to be evidences of some sort of those transitions, such as a sheepdog, pupling, or bullfrog, the game’s promoters said.

Before you point out the existence of some fairly well-known animals to Kirk and Roy, I should probably note that, to then, a “sheepdog” is half dog, half sheep; a “bullfrog” is frog with a cow’s head, and a “pupling” is a golden sporting dog that retrives itself.   But yeah, the fact that we don’t see cows morphing into frogs these days is clear proof that evolution is bunk!

And now for the most compelling evidence yet against evolution:

The logic of and support for evolution also was questioned in a stunt the two did for their television show, when they let “evolutionists hang themselves with their own words.”“We called eight airlines (on camera) and asked if they would let us bring a ‘relative’ on the plane. We said that he needed a wheelchair because he had problems with his feet, and after getting approval we told them the ‘relative’ was an orangutan,” Comfort said.

Yes, if airlines won’t let you take an orangutan in the cabin of a passenger flight, then clearly evolution is a big fraud!  Case closed!  But what other harebrained stunts will Mike Seaver and his goofy sidekick “Boner” try in the next ep of “Way of the Master”?  I can hardly wait to find out!

The Apostrophe Strikes Back!

Posted by s.z. on December 30th, 2006

Marq is THE MAN! Not only did everyone here love his instant holiday classic, A Marie Jon’ Christmas, but even Marie Jon’ showed up to honor it.

At least, I think that’s what she meant to do when she left the following comments:


SP’s so trip.



“tripe ”

SP’s are tripe.
something poor, worthless, or offensive

Okay, although this seems meaningless at first glance, I think we can translate it if we all work together.  First, by reading the linked commentary (Marie’s latest), we are able to deduce that SPs are “Bill O’Reilly patented, Marie approved Secular Progressives.” And apparently we are to replace “trip” with “tripe” in the first koan.  But since “tripe” is a noun, and “secular progressives” are plural, the phrase “SP’s so tripe” still makes no sense!  And this is how we know that the real Marie left these comments.

Anyway, since she wanted us all to read her latest piece (a guest column at the ironically-titled “The Reality Check”), we probably should. It’s about how society is going to hell in a hand-basket thanks to us anti-culture warriors.  But in case you are pressed for time, here’s a comprehensive summary of Marie’s fine work.



Intro:  If you don’t pay attention to me (and to Bill O’Reilly), you’ll be sorry when it’s too late, and the progressives have molested your grandchildren!  Beware this mindset’s insidious tentacles!

The progressive movement touches every part of this country values and mores. It’s a mind set that has it’s insidious tentacles constantly reaching out to all venues of Americana.  Our culture, our beliefs systems, and our patriotic pride is being assaulted on every level.

Take a minute to contemplate the injustice of a world where Bill only wishes he could write like that, and yet he has the best-selling books, while Marie opines for free.

But let’s move on, for it seems that ”Social Progressives” (Marie apparently forgot what the code stands for) are “drastically hurting” our children, in that liberal judges let child rapists get off scot-free all the time. (Marie presumably learned that from Bill.) Also, per WorldNetDaily, the ACLU defended NAMBLA in a wrongful death case where two men read NAMBLA materials and then molested and killed a boy. And this an outrage, for not only is NABLA guilty of murder and rape due to the fact that criminals possessed their material, but the ACLU is complicit in the murder, because they defended NAMBLA’s right to free speech.  Oh, and all liberals are also guilty of aiding and abetting the perverts who killed the boy, just because!

The fact that liberals in our country help these criminals escape just punishment is disgusting. All parents need to be aware of that fact.

So, we must wake up and do stuff! Light will be shone! Names will be taken! Values will be valued!

The ACLU is an organization that undermines our country’s values. Social progressive in the media have empathy for every radical far leftists. Why?


Please, take a look at MTV or Girls Gone Wild. They, of all people, have the nerve to say that President Bush has sullied our image around the globe.

I hate to interrupt Marie when she’s on a tear, but I don’t think that “Girls Gone Wild” have said anything about President Bush and his sullying – could Marie actually be referring to Jenna and NotJenna here?

And I have to admit that I am kind of surprised that Marie would beg us to take a look at tapes of drunk, gullible, coeds flashing their breasts at the camera — but then, she did invite us to read her column, so maybe if we watch said tapes, we’ll find out that Marie contributed to then too.

But back to Marie:

Our public schools are bastions of liberalism. These institutions willfully rewrite our country’s history to their liking. They surely are not contributing to turning out good citizens. Can your child recite the Pledge of Allegiance?

However, they teach Heather has Two Mommies… and three daddies.

While my imaginary child may or may not be able to recite the Pledge, I do have to point out that since the Heather thing is actually an “Enter Stage Right” column, I don’t believe that the liberal public schools are teaching it — but if they did, then you could ask, as Marie does, “Where is the quality education promised to each child?”

And now, for the stirring Reality-Checked conclusion, which finally mentions Mr. O’Reilly (but says nothing about tripe):

To be a successful warrior you must act now or America will, one day, wake up to find itself awash in Islamic jihadists, while suffering from the Sodom and Gomorrah syndrome foist upon us by what Fox News’ Bill O’Reilly calls “the SPs” (Secular Progressives).

Yes, if America one day wakes up to find itself awash in jihadists, while at the same time also being destroyed by SP-foisted fire and brimstone (or turned into a big pillar of salt or something), then it will be because we didn’t read Bill’s book.

However, unpleasant as it might be to be bathing in jihadists and sulfur, it just might be better than suffering through 200-odd pages of Bill’s bluster and whining.  So, sorry Marie, but I’m going to have to take what’s behind the box.

NewsMax Makes Me An Offer I Can Refuse

Posted by s.z. on December 29th, 2006

I’m pretty tired right now. I spent the day protecting Buster from The Wrath of Kittens, since he seems to have the instinctual drive to flush cats out in the open to for hunting — except, that I’m not hunting the cats, and the cats hate it, which they show by hissing, spitting, and trying to smack Buster in the face. (Little Bob got Buster on the nose, and Ziggy got him on the top of the head — and that was despite my best efforts.)

I also took Bob and Oliver to the vet’s today for their third round of kitten shots, went on a long walk with the dogs, shampooed the carpets after the dogs brought back several pounds of mud from their walk, wrote a letter to the local paper advocating dog fostering, and read about 3000 tributes to Gerald Ford.

So, it’s probably not surprising that I read this Newsmax email subject line as “O’Reilly Blowhard Offal.”

But here’s the actual text:

O’Reilly Blowout Offer

Incredible Offer!

Culture Warrior: List Price: $26.00
Sale Price: $12.95

You know, It’s usually a bad sign when one’s book goes into the remainder bins a scant two months after being released. But making this even worse is that NewsMax isn’t even trying to lure its readers (rubes and fools though they may be) into purchasing a subscription to The NewsMax Wingnut Magazine by offering them cheap copies of the latest rightwing polemic. No, NewsMax is just trying to unload as many copies as possible of a book that nobody is buying.

But here’s what NewsMax had to say about the offer (I added a few explanatory notes, so you could better appreciate this incredible deal).

With three straight #1 best seller and more than 4 million copies of his books in print [and in landfalls all over the nation], the most powerful traditional force [i.e., the biggest bully] in the American media now takes off his gloves [and his clothes, then takes his falafel in hand, and prepares for a nice, hot, steamy shower] in the ongoing struggle for America’s heart and soul [and bucks]. Bill O’Reilly is the very embodiment of the idea of a Culture Warrior [and the very model of a modern major asshole] — and in this book he lives up to the title brilliantly, with all the brashness and forthrightness [because warring with brashness and forthrightness on the cultural front is a lot less dangerous than warring with guns and hand grenades on the Iraq front] at his command .

Save $13 with NewsMax’s After-Christmas Blowout Sale! Go Here Now!

Or don’t. We won’t tell on you if you have something more pressing to do.

And Speaking of Dumb …

Posted by s.z. on December 28th, 2006

Jan LaRue of the Concerned Women for America asks, “When Will Bisexuals Drag Homosexuals out of Polygamy Closet?

Anyone have an answer for her?

And here’s a paragraph in which she explains her thesis, which is: Homosexuals want to destroy society, and if we let them marry, the slippery slope will inevitably lead to polygramy, chaos, the dead rising from the grave, human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together – mass hysteria. 

A May 2005 Gallup poll found that 92 percent of Americans oppose the practice [of polygamy], which is illegal in all 50 states. But if Americans can be convinced that polygamy, like same-sex marriage or civil unions is about “fairness,” opposition can be expected to erode, once homosexual activists come out of the closet in support of the right of bisexuals’ to marry an individual of each sex. 

Because you know that that is every bisexual’s dream.

Mad Would Know

Posted by s.z. on December 28th, 2006



We agree with several of Mad Magazine’s choices for “Dumbest People, Events and Things of the Year.”  For example, their picks for #1: ”The Iraq War — Mish-mosh Accomplished,” #6. “Ann Coulter — Queen of the Vile,” #7. “Mel Gibson — The Passion of the Anti-Semite,” and #20. “Bush’s Assault on Civil Liberties — The Kill of Rights,” featuring Bush, Cheney and Condi in seafaring drag on a poster for “Pirates of the Constitution, Head Man’s Mess,” were all inspired choices. 

But what kind of a list of dumbness could leave off Dr. Mike Adams, Mark Steyn (whose epic work “America Alone: Why We Whlte Folks Aren’t Breeding as Fast as We Should” was finally published this year), or Pastor Grant Swank?

So, since we may not get around to having a “Ultimate Wingnut” contest this year, we invite you to post your nominees for The Dumbass, Idiotic Event, or Stupid Thing of 2006.

Good-Bye, Gerald Ford

Posted by s.z. on December 27th, 2006

I think the following anecdote illustrates Gerald Ford’s legacy:

After former president George Bush has moved out of the house across the street from the Simpsons (due to a running feud he had with Homer and Bart), Homer learns that the house has been bought by former president Ford.  Homer doesn’t know how to feel about this turn of events until Mr. Ford approaches him with an offer.  It goes a little something like this:

Gerald Ford: Say, Homer, do you like football?
Homer: Do I ever!
Ford: Do you like nachos?
Homer: Yes, Mr. Ford.
Ford: Well, why don’t you come over and watch the game and we’ll have nachos, and then some beer.
(Homer and Ford cross the street together.)
Homer: Jerry, I think you and I are going to get along just—
(They both trip in Ford’s driveway)
Homer & Ford: D’oh!

That’s the Gerald Ford we will remember: the one played by Chevy Chase on SNL.  Anyway, he’s drinking beer and watching football in heaven now, possibly.

Our Savior, Bill O’Reilly

Posted by s.z. on December 27th, 2006

Bill takes a Look Back at the Year 2006, and decides that he’s made it a pretty good year.

With ten days left in the year, it’s a good time to think about what went right and what went wrong in 2006.

The absolute worst was Iraq, very troubling. I believe the USA tried to do a good thing in that country, tried to bring freedom to those people and establish a nation that would be an example to other Middle Eastern countries and fight terrorism at the same time.

You know, I might have dreamt it, but I seem to recall something about how we needed to invade Iraq because Saddam had WMDs — big, nasty, ones — and we had to take them out so that we wouldn’t be facing a mushroom cloud in America.  Hey, I know it sounds bizarre, but I could almost swear that we were told something like that.  Weird, huh?

So far we have not succeeded in doing that,

No crap, Sherlock.

even though we have liberated millions of people. The Kurds are fine in the north. Many people in southern Iraq are prospering, but we have 3,000 dead Americans and 15,000 wounded.

Not to mention a few dead and wounded Iraqis.  (Seriously, don’t mention them.) 

We have spend billions and the terrorists are still killing people. It is depressing, to say the least. So that is the big negative.

On the positive front, the economy remains strong. Most of us have comfortable lives and the culture war is turning our way.

So, the positive front kind of makes up for the negative one then, and there’s no need to figure out just why we have that depressing Iraq war, nor to assign blame or anything, nor even contemplate how Bill himself may bear a little responsibility for this big negative.  

Therefore, because we don’t like thinking about depressing stuff, let’s focus some more on Bill’s economic prosperity, and how the culture war is going his way.

“The Factor,” of course, is right in the middle of this culture war deal, and we’ve had a good year.

Forty out of 50 states now have Jessica’s Law, or a variation of it, and prosecutors tell us that judges now are very reluctant to give soft sentences to child predators. Because of “The Factor’s” aggressive coverage of loopy judges in Vermont, Ohio, Missouri and Nebraska, other judges, all over the nation, have gotten the message.

Yes, judges have decided to not be loopy anymore, and to instead send sex offenders to jail, all thanks to Bill.

And we also dealt with a number of other bad guys this year as well. O.J. Simpson got what he deserved, scorn. Air America is bankrupt. Christmas has made a big comeback from the secular assault against it. That’s all good, and we’re happy we can help.

See what a great and powerful man Bill is?  He not only saved Christmas, he also caused Air America to go bankrupt, and quashed that O.J. Simpson book/TV deal single-handedly.  So, it has been a very good year for him!

So overall 2006 is a mixed bag. The War on Terror has been challenging. The culture war a bit better. 2007, we’re ready for the fight.

Yes, now that Bill has everything well in hand here in the U.S., he is reporting for combat duty in Iraq, so he can turn around that war the same way he did the culture war.  You heard it here first.

Most Ridiculous Item of the Day

In May of 2004, actor Sylvester Stallone came on “The Factor” with an interesting story. He was being prevented from making another sequel of his “Rocky” series by a Hollywood big shot

[snip transcript of interview clip]

O’REILLY: Well, soon after that interview things turned around. The movie got made, and we were happy if they helped.

Now the “Rocky” movie, the sequel, is out this week, and we wanted to talk to Mr. Stallone about his odyssey, but his people turned us down.

Now we’re not mad. He’s a busy guy these days. But it is ridiculous. Always remember, you dance with the one who brung you.

That’s another feather in Bill’s 2006 cap: he forced Hollywood to let Stallone make his “Old Rocky” movie!  But now ol’ Sly is a little too big for his britches, and won’t dance with Bill, even though Bill took him to the prom.  Metaphor, or “Brokeback Mountain” story for the new year?  YOU make the call!

Hav a gr8 sumr. C U next Yr

Posted by scott on December 27th, 2006

And after desecrating a beloved holiday tradition, I’m taking off for a week to visit my sister and her family in Portland, Oregon, and to try to hunker down and finish a scandalously overdue screenplay.  I’ll try to drop in from time to time, providing I can think of anything to say besides, “Damn, it’s cold!” and “Can we go a single frigging block without a Starbucks or a brewpub, please?”  But if not, let me wish everyone here a wonderful rump holiday season, and a happy, healthy, and prosperous New Year.

As always, the World O’ Crap audiences are the best audiences in the world!  G’night folks!

Say Hello to Buster

Posted by s.z. on December 26th, 2006

Buster, a Goldern Retriever/Chow Chow mix is my latest foster dog.  You can see his photo and read about him here.  He is a big (about 75 pounds), fluffy (he has his winter coat now, and looks like a big teddy bear — a teddy bear who is shedding) sweetie.  He is very friendly and eager to please, is very easy to walk, and seems to get along well with Yodie, Flossie, and some of the cats (Jet Jaguar, Kit, Bix, and Oliver are fine with him; Bob, Ziggy, and Tibby say they don’t like his looks, but I think time may change that; Andy, the geriatric cat, hasn’t even notice that Buster is here yet, so I think that they’ll do okay.)

So far it’s been fun having a big dog as a “loaner,” but Buster really deserves a good permanent home, so I hope he gets adopted at the next PetsMart event. But for now, I will enjoy this no-commitment relationship.

It’s A Wonderful Life (Sort of. Compared to Suicide)

Posted by scott on December 25th, 2006

It’s a dark and snowy night.  A sign declares, “You Are Now in Bedford Falls.”  Not “Welcome to Bedford Falls.”  Nothing about when the Rotary and the Oddfellows meet.  Just the cold, stark, declarative, “You Are Now in Bedford Falls.”  They might as well add, “Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter Here.”

A quick montage shows us that all the exterior shots are praying for George Bailey.  We slowly push in on heaven.  Suddenly, the Death Star hoves into view, and the camera dolly narrowly escapes its tractor beam.

We move toward a brilliant constellation which, if you connect all the stars, makes the figure of Bob’s Big Boy.  God and his homeboy Joseph (represented by some annoying flashing lights) are discussing the situation.  “Lot of people praying for a man named George Bailey,” God sighs.

            “George Bailey?” Joseph murmurs.  “Oh, right!  Tonight’s his crucial night.”  You know, you’d think they’d be a little more on top of who’s about to commit suicide, especially if they know about it in advance (Heaven clearly needs a database).  Apparently, they were just going to let him die, until all those prayers started piling up.  It’s a lot like those letter writing campaigns that finally convinced a reluctant ABC to release the first season of The Flying Nun on DVD.  Anyway, the flashing lights that run the cosmos grudgingly agree to send someone down, and check the schedule to see who pulled the crappy Christmas Eve shift.

            It’s Clarence Oddbody.  “I.Q. of a rabbit,” we’re told, “But the faith of a child.  Simple.”  Well, they’re not exactly sending the A-Team, are they?  And just out of curiosity, exactly how much faith does it really take to believe in God when you’re already in heaven?   Nevertheless, they send for Clarence, which leads one to conclude that the Heavenly Host HATES George Bailey.  Or that they regard suicide prevention as a Special Olympics event – you get your wings just for showing up.

            But this was all just a setup for the world’s longest flashback, as Clarence is forced to review George’s life by watching America’s Painfully Quaintest Home Videos.  Let’s start in 1919, where Spunky Young Lad George is hosting Bedford Fall’s annual Self-Castrating Toboggan Days by straddling a snow shovel and riding it down a hill and across a frozen pond.  George’s smarter brother Harry is rightfully leery of these extreme sports, but George taunts him until Harry is forced to board the shovel, bump painfully down the hill, and crash through the ice.

            George goes bobbing for brothers, and saves Harry, but catches a cold and goes deaf in one ear, the little wuss.  Why, I’ve seen septuagenarian members of the Polar Bear Club pull off the same thing with nothing worse to show for it than a scrotum shriveled to the size and texture of a walnut.

            Cut to the drug store, where young Mary waits at the soda fountain for the half-deaf heartthrob to show up and start jerking.  She orders a chocolate sundae without the coconut, which sends George into a rage.

            “No coconut!  Listen, brainless, don’t you know where coconuts come from?”  It turns out that George is sneaking around with a copy of the National Geographic, America’s leading source of porn in 1919, and it’s filled his head with dreams of harems, and indigenous fruit trees.

            Meanwhile, the druggist, Mr. Gower, is lurking in the background, smoking a five cent stogie and getting blasted on grain alcohol.  George snoops in Gower’s private correspondence and discovers that his son is dead, and goes into the back to see if he can freshen the old man’s drink.  Instead, he catches Gower putting poison in some capsules intended for a child.  We can tell this because he’s filling the prescription from a gigantic apothecary jar that says POISON on the label, but I’m sure it’s totally an accident.

            George goes to his dad’s Building and Loan, whatever the hell that is, to ask him if he should deliver poison to a sick child, but dad is too busy getting reamed out by small town plutocrat Mr. Potter.  George shoves the elderly cripple and screams at him, then blithely returns to the pharmacy, where the drunken druggist beats him about the head until his diseased ear begins to hemorrhage.  George eventually works his way around to mentioning the poison, and suddenly, with blackmail hanging over his head, Gower is hugging the kid and kissing his ass.  George, bruised and bleeding profusely, embraces his rotgut-reeking tormentor and promises to keep their dirty little secret.  Amazingly, this will turn out to be George’s healthiest relationship.

            It’s now 10 years later, and George is now 30 years older.  Gower finally pays George off for his silence by buying him a suitcase so he’ll leave town.  Turns out George has been working at the Building and Loan for the past four years so he can save for college, and now Harry is graduating from high school and preparing to take George’s place.  To celebrate his commencement, Harry sexually harasses their black maid, Annie, by chasing her into the kitchen and spanking her ass.  Annie, of course, is as free to decline Harry’s overtures as the Thurmond family maid was to rebuff the attentions of young Strom.

            Anyway, George is leaving for college at the tender age of 38, and it’s a shock for dad, who hopes he’ll come back and take over the Building and Loan.  But George has ambition and high ideals, he wants to erect amazing structures and plan modern cities.  In short, he wants to shake the dust of this crummy little town off his feet and take over Gary Cooper’s part in The Fountainhead.

            George hangs around Harry’s high school graduation dance (he’s sort of the Jazz Age equivalent of Matthew McConaughey’s character in Dazed and Confused).  George and Mary reunite in the gym, reliving those golden days when he called her brainless, then got slapped around until he bled.  Then Harry announces the big dance contest, and George and Mary do the Charleston in a scene that’s only slightly more depressing than They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?

            Unfortunately, they’re cutting a rug at Beverly Hills High School, which has a pool under the gym floor, and thanks to shenanigans, tomfoolery, and a large quantity of homemade gin, they fall in.

            Mary and George walk home, dressed in a robe and a football uniform respectively, pausing to sing “Buffalo Gals” and to vandalize the Munster’s house.  George breaks a window with a rock, and makes a wish that he’ll escape Bedford Falls, see the great wide world, and build bridges and skyscrapers and huge modern dams and do great things for mankind.  Then Mary breaks a window and makes a wish that all of George’s dreams will turn to ash, and he’ll wind up a miserable failure, stuck for the rest of his life in this dismal little burg that he hates.  Because she loves him.

            George gets lyrical and goes off on some weird rant about making Mary swallow the moon, which is clearly a dirty metaphor, but it’s not enough for the old voyeur peeping at them from a balcony, who loudly demands that George give her a little lip and tongue action!  George doesn’t like to be micromanaged, however, and exceeds expectations by tearing Mary’s robe off.

            George’s naked prey retreats to a clump of hydrangeas, while George slowly circles the bushes, tauntingly holding her robe just out of reach.  But the sexual extortion is derailed when George’s dad has a stroke.

            The Building and Loan, which George loathes, will be dissolved unless he takes over, so naturally the chump gives his school money to his kid brother, who goes on to become a football star and to marry a hot blond.  And when Harry finally, four years later, returns to relieve George at the Building and Loan, it turns out that his new wife’s father owns a factory, and has offered a Harry a plum job researching glass.

            Surely George will hold Harry to their agreement, and finally get free of this tarpit-like town.  Nope.  By now it’s clear that George is the single biggest cinematic doormat since Lynn Redgrave in Georgy Girl, and I fully expect that before the movie is over, we’ll see him curled up in a trunk in a head-to-toe latex gimp suit.

            But first we see George’s Uncle Billy deal with the soul-deadening monotony of Bedford Falls by getting so stinking, stupid drunk that he literally can’t remember where his house is.  But George sends him weaving blindly down the street anyway, assuming that once he vomits on the neighbors’ front porch, he’ll be able to stave off the convulsions until he gets home.

            As it turns out, George’s Mom has also had a few too many, because she comes out of the house and kisses her grown son full on the mouth.  George responds by kissing her back and saying “I can see right through you, Mother.  Right through to your back collar button,” which I guess is a roundabout way of confessing that he watches her through his X-Ray Specs when she’s not looking.  Fortunately, Mom sobers up enough to realize that if George doesn’t go out and get laid soon, their house is going to start resembling the royal palace in Thebes, so she tells George to go pester Mary, who’s back from – I don’t know – Spinster School, I guess.

            On the way, George tries to pick up town slut Violet, but he won’t spring for a motel room and wants to rut al fresco.  But as the designated municipal floozy, Violet has hand, and when George can’t meet her quote, he’s forced to drag his sorry ass over to Mary’s house for a pot luck booty call.

            George and Mary sit in the parlor and pitch passive-aggressive woo until Sam Wainwright, the Richie Rich of Bedford Falls, calls from New York to offer them both a chance to invest in the plastic soybean business.  George explodes!  He doesn’t want any part of marriage, or wealth, or happiness, he just wants to go abroad and mispronounce the word “Venezuela.”  But he’s seduced by Mary, because her Hair Smells Terrific.

            Cut to George and Mary emerging from the church on their wedding day.  Ironically, it’s raining.

            Well, at least George can finally get out of this abysmal, postage stamp-sized town, if only for a two-week honeymoon.   New York, Bermuda, the highest hotels, the oldest champagne, the…Oh oh.  Seems George got married on Black Monday, and the angry mob outside the Building and Loan has all the earmarks of a run on the bank.  Okay, I admit…THAT’S ironic.

            The panicky shareholders demand their money, or they’ll sell out to Potter, but George buys their loyalty with all the cash intended to finance his honeymoon.  Man, Bedford Falls is starting to look that like that Twilight Zone episode where William Shatner’s car breaks down in some sinister small town, and he and his wife are prevented from leaving by a magical napkin dispenser.

            Mary calls George and tells him to come to their new home – the abandoned old house with the broken windows.  Inside, the place is falling down – the stairs are missing treads, the roof is leaking, and though it’s hard to tell from the black-and-white photography, I’m pretty sure someone has written “Piggy” on the wall in blood.

            Cut to George and Mary helping the stereotypically Italian Martini family move into Bailey Park, which is not only the most depressing-looking housing tract ever grafted onto the ass-end of a one horse town, it was also built on top of an old cemetery, so the pools are probably  filled with angry Native American skeletons.

            Then World War II comes along, and everybody gets to be a hero except George, who is reduced to collecting scraps of rubber and blowing a whistle at people who don’t pull their shades all the way down.

            Well, we’re over an hour into the film, and guess what?  We’re still in a flashback.  God tells Joseph to wrap this thing up so we can get to George’s Special Day.  It starts off with Harry getting the Congressional Medal of Honor, and George getting a visit from the bank examiner.  Then lifelong alcoholic Uncle Billy absentmindedly hands the entirety of the Building and Loan’s cash assets to Mr. Potter.  Meanwhile, George gives his last few dollars to Violet so she can go to New York, because she’s peaked as a prostitute in Bedford Falls, and needs to find a street corner with room for advancement.

            George finally decides to stand up for himself by throwing Uncle Billy under the bus.  “One of us is going to jail,” he snarls, “And it ain’t gonna be me!”  He goes home and storms around the house, freaking out the kids and refusing to tell them how to spell “frankincense.”  He grabs the phone away from Mary so he can insult his daughter’s teacher and threaten her husband, then he screams at his kids and throws things around until the big-eyed tykes tremble in fear and begin to weep.  Watching this scene, I couldn’t help thinking…This is the best Christmas ever!  (Admittedly, my family set the bar kinda low…)

            George goes crawling to Potter for help, pissing his last few drops of dignity down his pantleg.  Instead, Potter summons the police, so George runs off to Martini’s bar, where he gets liquored up and prays.

            The teacher’s husband punches him in the face, which George takes as a sign that he should go drive drunk in a snowstorm until he crashes into a tree.  Well, things have taken a dark turn, but thankfully he’s still got his life insurance policy, so he goes to the river to drown himself, too intoxicated to realize that suicide voids the policy.

            George wishes he’d never been born, which I can’t argue with, but it would have been nice if he’d wished it about an hour and forty minutes ago.  But Clarence his guardian angel grants the wish and…voila!  George was never born.  He has hearing in his bad ear, his split lip has healed and suddenly it’s stopped snowing, because apparently Bedford Falls only gets crappy weather because George Bailey lives there.

            Also, the town is now called Pottersville, and it’s a swingin’ place.  Martini’s bar has live music, is packed with B-girls, and is run by Sheldon Leonard.  And we learn that every time a hard-faced bartender in a sleazy dive throws a few greasy, wrinkled dollar bills in a cash register, an angel gets its wings.

            Old man Gower shows up, even drunker and stinkier than he was in the flashback, but Sheldon has the good sense to hose the reeking hobo down with a seltzer bottle.  Seems the druggist did 20 years hard time, because without George to interfere, his kid-poisoning scheme went off without a hitch.

            George goes home to the Amityville House, only to find it re-abandoned.  Bert the cop tries to arrest him, but is distracted when Clarence bites him on the hand.  Sadly, Bert was allergic to angel venom, and goes into anaphylactic shock.

            We cut to George, who is on his knees in the graveyard that he once turned into a crappy postwar bedroom tract, while Clarence chirps, “You see George, you’ve really had a wonderful life.”  Now, ordinarily I’m against elder abuse, but seeing as how George is going to jail anyway…

            But the last piece of news is so awful that Clarence isn’t supposed to reveal it.  Mary is…is…an OLD MAID.  She never married!  And she’s just about to close up the library!

            We see Mary, dressed in a mannish suit and sporting a fedora, and realize that –Whew! – it’s okay.  She’s not an old maid, she’s just dating Alice B. Toklas.  Oddly, though, George’s existence was apparently the only thing keeping Mary from developing astigmatism, because suddenly she needs glasses.

            George goes back to the bridge where he tried to kill himself, and begs for a mulligan.  Suddenly, it’s snowing again, his mouth is bleeding, his car is once again wrapped around a tree, and he is overcome with joy.

            George goes home and finds the authorities ready to take him in.  Also present is his huge brood of kids that we never really get to know, but for once he seems happy to see them.  Then Mary arrives, and she knows him, and can see without glasses, and isn’t a lesbian anymore.  It’s a Christmas miracle!

            George stands by the tree while all the supporting players troop past and dump their spare change on a card table.  Oh.  I guess THAT’S the Christmas miracle.  Mr. Martini empties his jukebox and his cash register and gives all his money to George, but Mary still demands that he serve everyone with free wine as well.  Well okay, your highness.  How are you fixed for socks and underwear?

            Suddenly Harry is undead and shows up to make a sappy toast, and everyone sings a premature chorus of Auld Lange Syne.  Then George bumps the tree, causing an ornament to tinkle, and daughter Zuzu lisps, “Teacher says, every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.”  Since we got the impression earlier that Zuzu attends the local public school, All I can say is, Madelyn Murray O’Hair needs to get on the stick.

            Oh.  And Merry Christmas you wonderful old Blog and Loan!  Merry Christmas everyone!