In an effort to get that sugary, magical, just this side of uncomfortably warm and sweaty Christmas feeling—the one that rushed in like a monsoon when I was younger and the getting of which has become exponentially more difficult as the advancing years bring me closer to abject poverty—I've been scouring the Internets and Youtube for the cinematic yuletide staples of my youth. Surprisingly guilty indulgences including (but, of course, not limited to): Used to Seem Longer Mickey's Christmas Carol; Disney's "Wow, my mother was patient" Very Merry Christmas Sing-a-long; Pee-Wee's 1988 Christmas Special featuring Skinny Oprah and Grace Jones of the Horrifying Androgyny; and Creepy, Stop-motion Rudolph and the Subtly Homosexual Misfits.
But nothing that I've seen is as awesome and awful (awesfome?) as this old Donald Duck Cartoon.
We all knew Donald was a lousy bastard. It's kind of his thing. But this cartoon makes him look like a total A-hole. Chucking ice missiles at your nephews is kind of a dick move. It makes their retaliation with flaming coal arrows seem almost justified. Also I like the weird captions that start around the 2:00 mark. I can't tell if they're German, or if it's just the phonetic translation of what the speech-impaired ducks are actually trying to say.
My point is, I'm troubled by the cruel nature of the entertainment that used to fill me with holiday cheer. Does it say something about the kind of child I was? Yes. Probably something bad.