By now you probably know the score – this is a 10,000 part series of columns that is making me progressively suicidal.
But because it’s almost Christmas, rather than watch ‘Victory Through Air Power’ – which I have on good authority has NOTHING to do with Christmas – I’ve decided to sit down and watch some Disney Christmas shorts and specials from the past, and dish them out as three mini columns;
Pre-Christmas (this one, genius), Christmas (25th December, obviously) and post-Christmas (December 28th).
So, now you have something to read in between the joy and merriment you are no doubt likely to have with your family/in-laws/case worker.
Without further ado, let’s look at Disney’s war crime; the “House Of Mouse” Christmas Special from 1999.
I have never seen this show, so when it explodes in my face like an anal belch of music, lights and colour, I can feel it sucking what remains of my soul from my body – leaving nothing but a black pit that will forever be known as ‘The Disney Stain’.
The worst thing is, it sounds like rockabilly demigod Brian Setzer was forced at gunpoint to do the opening theme. I can only assume that Disney have something on him; like photos of him making love to a man, whilst dressed as a woman who’s dressed as a man in a black and white minstrel show, as he’s drowning a baby, putting a cat in a bin and burning an American flag that’s stapled to an effigy of The President that’s nailed to The President himself.
Disney, some 60 years after the films I’ve already watched, have still not learnt that opening sequences do not need to last FOREVER. This show is 22 minutes long, and over a minute of that is opening sequence. An opening sequence which holds The Muppet Show’s concept down and drills holes in its body so it can make new orifices to violate. This is probably going to be a fucking anthology show – which means there is no continuity, each episode stands alone, and I imagine will NEVER use the concept of going behind the scenes of the show – so why is the SIX DAY LONG opening sequence showing us behind the scenes of a show that, I repeat, HAS NO BEHIND THE SCENES. Because IT’S FUCKING ANIMATED. If you’re going to go behind the scenes, then show the Korean animators in their cells, working their bleeding hands to the bone so that some hideous beast of a six year old can be sat down in front of this monstrosity and taught that there is nothing good or sacred in this world anymore.
So, the show starts… and it turns out it’s set in a nightclub or something… where Mickey is the compere… And, uh. Maybe the behind the scenes thing made sense. Maybe.
“Welcome to the only place where snow isn’t on the house – she’s in the house!”
says Mickey, referring to Snow White. Snow, whorebag and cunt-infection that she is, does not crack a smile. Now that could be blamed on her being a humourless fuckhole, or it could be because we’re shown a single frame of her and the dwarves… for five seconds… a cutaway shot that could at least have had A FUCKING BLINK to make it look like it wasn’t animated by amphetamine-addled tweens who were beaten within an inch of their life to bring this assault on the senses to life.
Mickey Mouse should never be allowed to do opening monologues. Or talk at all. The more high pitched drivel that leaks out of his face hole, the more I want to kick him in his mouseballs, on the off chance it’ll set his voice straight. The guy’s in his 80s – you’d imagine his voice would have dropped by now.
We then go to a segment called “Mouse On The Street”, which involves Mickey going up to Disney characters in voxpop-style interviews and asks them what they want for Christmas. They all give stupid fucking answers that are designed solely to make me more and more angry with this abomination. The weird thing is, rather than have a quick cut between the interviews, the House Of Mouse team have put static between the clips – like they’re tuning their TV to find the next one.
Just so you know; this is the worst television show that has ever been created.
The devil himself made this to dumb down the population of the world and increase suicide rates globally. It’s trying to be The Muppet Show, but it’s missing the heart, soul, characters, laughs, or anything redeeming.
Apart from when a character says that for Christmas they want Minnie Mouse’s phone number – and then reappears later asking for Daisy Duck’s phone number. Except when he reappears, he has been brutally beaten. Beaten, one assumes, by Mickey Mouse. I wouldnt’ be surprised if there’s a shot later of Minnie with a bruised eye, doing a monologue about how she’s so clumsy and keeps walking into doors.
I believe we have now just been introduced to the ‘plot’ of this nightmare. The ‘cast and crew’ of the show are discussing exchanging gifts when ‘Pete’ shows up. Pete looks like the result of Goofy eating Popeye’s nemesis Bluto. We know he’s the villain because he’s obese – at least that’s how I know he’s the villain. I’m always suspicious of anyone who looks large enough to devour me whole, and
Bluto Pete looks like he could eat the entire cast of The Mouse House Grouse Louse and still have room for a couple of Loony Tunes characters. It’s in his introduction that we discover that Pete is angry for not being invited to participate in the festivities. So angry, he could kill and murder Huey, Duey and Louie, and bury them under the studio. He’s told he WAS invited – and is suddenly jubilated, excited, almost bouncing with childish glee. Pete, ladies and gentlemen, is a manic depressive sociopath with psychotic tendancies. A sociopath who “wants to be Santa Clause”.
He obvious hasn’t seen the rigorous training that Tim Allen had to go through in The Santa Clause. Or maybe he has, because he runs (yes geography fans, RUNS) to the North Pole, brutally slays (pun intended) Santa, then proceeds to steal his clothes. And skin.
As he pulls Santa’s skin on like a body glove, he manically cackles to himself;
“This is going to be one swell Christmas, because this year, Santa’s going to keep all the gifts for himself.”
He then bursts into tears, gets angry enough to throw a penguin into the sun, and then laughs at a shark for having a ‘stupid wet face’.
Back to the studio, and the horny character who wanted Minnie’s phone number is back, and he’s trying to kiss Minnie under mistletoe. That bit’s pretty boring, but you know what’s interesting? He looks bizarrely like … well … Walt.
If that’s right, then the (Korean) Disney animators are implying that Walt Disney was not only a nazi and a pheasant poacher, but horny lecherous old man who initially
stole drew Minnie as an object of lust for his mouse-based fetish. An animated character that he fostered sexual desire for.
Perhaps you’ve heard the story of Mickey Rooney claiming that he was the basis for Mickey Mouse. Not just the name, but the short stature, big ears, tail, all of it. What if Minnie was created by Walt to act out his lust for Rooney’s wife? A surrogate for his frustrations to be released upon.
That theory’s all good and well, until you realise that Mickey Rooney has had – no word of a lie – 6,000 wives. Some he’s still married to, others he married for a split second then discarded like yesterday’s condoms; a phrase which was coined by Rooney, who was famous for boiling his favourite condoms between sexually assaulting his many spouses.
Back to the show; we’re introduced by a title card to “A Mouse Tales Cartoon”. This has all been a cartoon, so that part of the title seems fairly superfluous - they were hardly going to cut to live action hobos performing the tale in Mickey costumes made of trash and their own bodily products. Although that would have made a better show.
What a surprise, it’s Christmas and they’ve decided to animate the cunt-stapling Nutcracker.
“It is December 25th, Christmas Day. Young Maria has been waiting all day for this moment.”
That was the narrator. He talks over the top of
Minnie Maria looking through a keyhole at the tree. Thing is, as soon as the door opens, we’re shown a fireplace adorned with stockings that read ‘Mickey’, ‘Pluto’ and – wait for it – ‘Minnie’.
That’s right, Not fucking ‘Maria’, you lying narrating cockfart.
Then the characters start talking to the fucking narrator – because what’s a 21st(ish) century cartoon if it doesn’t break the fourth shitballing wall. I guess they thought all evidence of this monstrosity would be destroyed with Y2K.
They were wrong.
But the more I watch, the more I wish they weren’t.
Oh God. I think the narrator is John Cleese. Fuck me. Is nobody is safe from Disney’s dark grip?
Dance number. A fucking dance number. Out of nowhere.
I am reaching for a switchblade at this very instant so I can end it all. This is the ninth circle of hell. There is no escape.
It’s also a cartoon about a girl who wants to play with her… toy.
Her very phallic toy… that… comes to life when the adults have gone… And takes her on adventures. In her vagina.
And now Goofy’s here. And he’s … playing Hamlet?
Not that it matters – because for no reason whatsoever, they’ve decided to stop the cartoon and go back to the ‘show’. It genuinely feels like this script was written for kids with ADD. Or written by a kid with ADD.
Now it’s a segment called ‘The Science Of Santa’. The less said about this the better, because I swear it made me tear my hair out with its fucking stupidity.
Back to the ‘story’ of the show. Remember
Fatty-Fatty-Fats-Fat Pete wearing Santa’s skin and planning to steal presents? We get another 8.6 seconds of that. He steals some presents. Great writing, guys. Didn’t you people used to write Oscar-worthy material, and now you’re making Ritalin: The Animated Adventures.
Animated Walt tries rubbing himself against another lady. He’s thwarted once again, because sexual predator are much easier to stop when they’re animated. They should try forcibly animating child molesters – then our children would have nothing to fear. Although, I guess kids love animation, so that would make them much more dangerous than if they just had bags of candy / sacks to put children in. That initiative will have to go back to the drawing board before I formally present it to the Prison Warden’s Association.
CockKnocker Nutcracker is back, and this time it’s stupider than before. Donald Duck is ‘The Mouse King’. Bear in mind Disney have plenty of mouse characters, and yet a duck is playing a mouse. I’m sure it’s meant to be ‘funny’ or ‘ironic’. But it’s not. It’s fucking dumb.
ANOTHER. FUCKING. DANCE. NUMBER.
I am going to kill myself right this instant. I swear to God. I’m almost certain John Cleese had the same idea while he was recording his narration.
Storyline again; everyone’s missing their presents, and I don’t care. Not one iota, and neither do you. Especially when they all turn out to be for
Obesitor The Fatnificent Pete. And he hid them… in the furnace. What the fuck is this show doing even existing, let alone making stupid fucking plot ‘twists’ like this.
… All the other characters are GLOATING that Pete destroyed his own gifts. Fucking gloating. I have never had as much disdain for Mickey Mouse as much as I have now. What a dick.
But it’s not over. Now it’s time for a cartoon called “Donald’s Dynamite”. If it doesn’t involve him rectally violating himself with dynamite that proceeds to explode his nether regions across the screen, I am switching off right this instant. When the fuck did Donald Duck play with explosives? When was that his thing? He’s not Tom or fucking Jerry, he’s not Daffy or Bugs. He’s a sexual deviant who refuses to wear pants. Even when he’s in THE FUCKING SNOW.
No genital explosion. I’m going to kill the TV right this instant.
Oh for fucks sake, Uncle Walt is back and trying to shag Minnie again. I hope this time it turns out to be Mickey in drag, and he goes all the way before revealing his identity.
No. One better. Pete kisses him. And then turns him over and violently penetrates him with his stumpy little fatmancock.
There’s only a minute left, but I don’t think I can do this any more. I’m out.
“Our young donkey boys are working hard in the salt mines, so we pass the savings on to you.”
That was a quote from a fake commercial for ‘Gepetto’s Toy Shop’ that ‘sponsored’ the show. And it’s over. It’s done. I’m free!
… For five days.
… Before it all starts again.
This idea is the worst Christmas present I’ve ever put myself for you. I hope you appreciate it.
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