From JUDY GARLAND to MISTER HANKY | "Christmas Specials" Documentary

[nostamj]

From JUDY GARLAND to MISTER HANKY | "Christmas Specials" Documentary

There's a very interesting program running on Bravo, "The 'Christmas Special' Christmas Special. It's a collection of clips (many new to me) and commentary by everyone from Pee Wee Herman to members of The King Family.

I'm old enough to have seen almost all of these when they were originally broadcast. It also shows how Christmas was defined and marketed as the ideal "family" holiday. (An ideal few could hope to match in their own lives.)

The yin/yang of the Scrooge/Santa myths, how the holiday was 'winterized' allowing songwriters to compose secular "christmas" songs, the enduring power of "It's a Wonderful Life," the obligatory (and endlessly recycled) 'christmas episodes' on sit-comes.

Dick Martin is one of speakers so there are some wonderful Laugh-In clips. Some classic Paul Lynde. Judy Garland outtakes (with commentary from Lorna).

Anyway, there's some inane comments too. But, I really found a lot of it fascinating and learned quite a bit too.

If you get Bravo, watch for it. (Oddly, it's narrated by Carson Kressley of Queer Eye but he doesn't camp it up at all.)

And, in the spirit, here's my tribute to the Christmas classics.

I had written most of this before seeing the documentary. Synchronicity. In this piece I've basically tossed my * surrogate, Mister Bosh, into a Christmas TV nightmare.....



From....

THE CHRONICLES OF BOSH:
A Fictitious History of the Occupancy of Prince George, Part the First.

It's a Wonderful Bosh Christmas Carol, Charlie Brown!

- a special Holiday presentation

Place: The TV room in a white house.
Time: Recently.

Voiceover:
While Missus Bosh wanders through a Wal-Mart,
Mister Bosh, in the recliner, dozes and dreams.
He was watching Mister Magoo's Christmas Carol ,
No Alistair Sim for him, no sir!

He dreams of driving his golf cart through the snow--
Santa passes, riding a rotary razor--
But when he skids to avoid hitting Snoopy,--
Who's dancing "The Potter Stomp" in the middle of the street–
He slams into a bit of undigested potato (or a pretzel)
And bumps his head.

Bosh:
Sister Mary Clarence! I'm wounded!
Zasu Pitts in pedal pushers is played by a red-headed girl.
And my brother is the Catholic.
Even the littlest tree can be harvested. Mulched.
(To the tune of "Hark, The Herald Angels Sing")
Bark! The family dog has fleas. Barney, pal 'o mine!

(Barney leaps into the river, pursued by a bear.
Schroeder, behind a scrim, begins "The Ghost's Pavane")

Voiceover:
Mister Bosh wakes in, but not from, his dream.
Back in the corduroy hug of his favorite chair,
An apparition gathers before him:
Mister Lore, weighted with
His lockboxes and erudition, howls.

Apparition of Lore:
Mister Bosh, you blockhead!

Bosh:
How can you haunt me? You're not dead.
Technically.

Lore:
Mister Bosh, it is you who haunts me.

What follows is mere entertainment at your expense.
The sheer density of your hubris prevents any
Troubling recognition. No need to be tense.
Just something to forget over eggs in the morning.

There will be three visits tonight.

Bosh:
Three visitors. I've seen this program before.
Heh heh. Won't be fooled. Not again. Heh heh.

Lore:
This program is not that program.
Three visits tonight.

Voiceover:
And Lore slipped away into his internets.
A rustling in the hearth. Marion Lorne
Adjusts her dusty, feathered hat and tugs at
Edmund Gynn's full beard.
And all the Whos who are have-nots
Connect lots of dots.

New rustling in that hearth and Michael Moore,
Jolly blue elf, has appeared.

Bosh:
But, have you any power here? Begone.
My fantasy cannot be your new documentary!

Michael Moore:
My documentary should have been fantasy. But,
That's not the agenda tonight.

Bosh:
I expected three ghosts and only get one nightmare?

Mike More:
Welcome to the club.

Look, I know where you've been.
I know where we are.
And, I have a pretty good idea where we're going...
I'm good for the whole shost gig.
Can we just jump to the part where I scare you?

Bosh: (hysteria)
Missus Bosh! Guard he thermostatical thingys!
Only devils like to turn up the heat–

Mike More:
Yeah, yeah but I'm late for a screening and...
This is pretty simple.

Bosh: (livid)
Dog! Attack!

( One hundred and one dalmatians
Take a dump on the imperial carpet.)

Mike More:
You have no sense of irony, do you?
(rimshot)
Nevermind.

I am the ghost of Christmas Present yadaa yadoo...

( They are now standing in a bombed and smoking
Building in Fallujah, Iraq.)

Bosh:
My ears are ringing. Wayward shells, wayward shells.
Will you be getting your wings now?

Mike More:
Behold, the home to a family of eight–

Bosh:
Where are they?
The workhouses?
The orphanages?

Mike More:
Killed in their sleep by your bombs.
And then the dogs ate them.

(A bundle of rags quivers on the hearth. Rises.
A tiny, armless child.)

Bosh:
If I had one to give I would give her
A picture of me.

Voiceover:
A torrent of stuffed animals rains down.
Compassionate ordinance.
And we're back--

Mike More:
I am the ghost of Christmas Redacted.

Bosh:
Careful...

Mike More:
Not to worry. Not going there. Again.

(Eugene Ionesco winks from the doorway.
The room, inexplicitly, fills with flag-draped coffins.)

Bosh:
Mr. Gower you're hurting me!

Mike More:
Please... My screening?

I am the ghost of Christmas Yet To Be Imagined.

(The Bosh Twins appear, in stained camo.
They are peeling potatoes with bayonets.)

Bosh:
What is this sight before me?
The darling daughters in boot camp?
Grimed? Armed? Targeted?

Mike More:
Why the surprise?
Shouldn't they trust their daddy?
Should they ignore the call to duty?

Bosh:
Your dream in my dream will not change me.
No snowy reformation. No sweet turkey for the Cratchit family.
Tiny Tim's tour of duty is extended. Indefinitely.

Voiceover:
And when the alien serpent bursts from his gut--
Yodeling "Joy to the World!"--
In a blur of gore, Mister Bosh awakens.

Voiceover:
God bless us, God bless us, every one.

(And razzleberry stuffing...

December, 2004

[henslee]

1. Specials sounsd cool. This is a trippy post. Is that a snip of

a teleplay that you wrote at the end of it?

[nostamj]

2. not a 'snip'

it's the whole thing. meant as a segment in my long poetry sequence, 'the chronicles of bosh' although this is written as a script unlike the rest of the sections I've written for it...

for example:


the day it rained on Mister Bosh's parade

Scrambled eggs, raw, were on the breakfast menu.
And eggs, raw, and the raw rain streaked the pretty car.

Some stood their ground. Their ground! Shivering.
Furious and bone-chilled,
Ready, in spite of the raw wind, their raw eggs ready.

The election was a deception
And we see right through you.

Smack smack smack. The impact? Unreported.
The raw rage of patriots supremely raped.

The election was a deception
And we see right through you.

Mister Bosh scurries away, in his raw rage, keeping his coat
Out of harm's way. Missus Bosh takes his trembling hand:

Ta-ta and cranberries! Best to be out of it
And not risk catching a cold shoulder.

Seen through the window, as they accelerate,
It appears that the raw, dripping yolk is on his face.
But soon, unreported, the mess is washed away.

The raw deal? Mister Bosh is assured: Nothing will stick.

[nostamj]

3. gee... even with MISTER HANKY

in the subj... :shrug: the special is still worth seeing.

[nostamj]

4. going on....

(i feel like posting and there's no reason to start another dead thread)

I really grew up in that idealized kind of family Christmas.

Upper-middle class in a split-level house with a sunken living room complete with working fireplace. Mom & Dad, two girls, two boys, two grandmothers.

Our Christmases were HUGE. Massive. And I was the original Christmas Kid. I demanded that the Firestone Christmas albums be played starting December 1st. Decorating. Baking. Elaborate gift wrapping. Handmade gifts.

We always attended a Christmas eve service.

And then it changed. As I entered my teens Christmas began to sicken me. The commercialism. The expense. The excess.

And we had stopped attending Christmas eve services.

Jesus was OUT. and Santa and greed with IN.

one of the saddest, and sickest, things about the whole Xmas thing is that people feel they HAVE to do it for the CHILDREN.

that you just can't tell the CHILDREN that there is no Santa and you don't automatically get as much as your parents can (or can't) afford once a year.

it wouldn't be fair. BUY|GIVE|BUY|GET

not peace on earth but "I want my piece"

(it's just bitter bitter cold in NY today, btw.)

[nostamj]

5. paul begala pisses me off

all that blather about rummy's sig machine.

weak.

:hi:

[nostamj]

6. amazing

this morning I did a stupid ass toss-off thread that I edited to "please delete" after less than a minute.

THAT got 9 replies!

[nostamj]

7. still batting *nearly* 1000

i should stay away from DU/GD. only making a horrible time worse.

there have been bad 'christmas' times before but this year, with unemployment, a hit 'flop' show, and finally, the prospect of four more years of *...

has there been less hope?