I just don't understand Christmas. Oh sure, I get the basic concept -- prudish woman gives birth in a barn, everyone exchanges presents -- but the reasoning behind secular America's enduring obsession with celebrating an ever lengthening "holiday season" continues to escape me. Now, don't get me wrong. I enjoy elves, singing snowmen, and bright twinkly lights just as much as the next guy who ingests the occasional psychotropic substance, but I've never quite been moved by the "holiday spirit" the way some of my fellow men seem to be. I guess it's probably because I'm Jewish. Certainly the fact that you all enjoy paid, government-sponsored days off for your holidays while I have to take vacation for mine can't be helping. On the other hand, I am forced to admit that your "holiday songs" are a lot better than ours, as anyone who's ever heard the famous Passover tune about the goat that gets eaten by a cat can attest. Anyway, all this is by way of saying that I usually don't enjoy it when shows do very special Christmas episodes (check out my recap of the worst Sopranos episode ever for confirmation), but this week I'm forced to make an exception. Once again, Alan Ball has confounded my Christmas expectations. Looks like somebody's getting coal again this year.
Now there's no new version of the theme song this week, so in order to get all of you into the proper frame of mind for enjoying the recap, I'd like to make the following statements: this recap will be seventy-three. Pages. Long. Keith is hot. Marry me, Lauren. Ruth was absolutely correct to wear panties to work. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, c'est soir? Of course, I hope I don't get fired while my dear, sweet Sars is on vacation. Incidentemente, todos los estos son TM del mismo, oaklander, y Moya La Leviathan.
Lauren Ambrose: What the hell are you doing?
Aaron: It's a drinking game. I'm trying to get them all drunk so they don't notice the typos.
Lauren: Good plan. God knows that's the only way I can ever read your stuff.
Aaron: Aww. That's so sweet. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, c'est soir?
Lauren: Gehen sie hinaus. Jetzt.
Oh, and for you people, I also have this: after drinking several margaritas laced with Russian dressing, Bob ran off all willy-nilly to Disneyland, intent on engaging in an incestuous relationship with a mutant William Shatner. Unfortunately, Shatner's haggard, Darth Vader-like insistence that Bob repeatedly perform what he referred to as a "variation on Enrique Iglesias's famed 'fixie-fixie' sexual techniques" prevented him from finding any joy in this illicit, yet torrid, love affair. So instead, the mutant Shatner just ate some Camembert, staged a live reading of Lewis Carroll's "Jabberwocky," and made plans for an extended concert tour in several former Warsaw Pact states. The end.