Welcome to the Christmas Creep, you swine! It’s Omega Sinema’s celebration of the absolute worst in Christmas specials. I found some doozies to share with ya’ll, from childhood icons, to icons we’d rather forget, to utter shit from New Zealand that made me want to convert to Judaism so I would never even be put in the position of watching it again.
I decided to kick things off with probably the worst of the bunch. Get it over with, you know? Like tearing the duct tape off your girlfriend’s mouth following a night of passion. Right? Anyways, it’s pizza time in Hell: Christmas With the Turtles (1994).
Back in the day, us TMNT fans were loyal and the Turtle obsession teetered on the edge of religious obsession. We generally ignored the blatant ripoffs like Biker Mice From Mars and Street Sharks but always shelled out our allowance earnings for retarded figures like “Farmer Don.” We were forgiving of the third movie. We kept it green and we kept it in the sewer. What then, I ask, did we do to deserve this kick to the nuts? I love the Turtles and I love Christmas but fuck this:
…what. The hell. Was that? Why do they all talk like goodfellas but sing with a fake patois? And why won’t they stop smiling? They all look atrophied – like a bunch of green Amy Winehouses, which I think is the plural of Winehouse. God, I could go on and on nitpicking about the horrible production, but lemme tell you about the racy and thought-provoking plot for a minute.
After the Turtles finish trimming their tree with bologna or whatever, the boys realize they forgot to buy Splinter a present. He’s probably the only person they have to buy a present for, so it’s easy to see how they could forget. But wait! It’s Christmas Eve! All the stores are closing! Instead of acting like adults and heading right to the mall, they start beefing over who was supposed to buy Splinter’s gift. This scene would look like a real argument if it wasn’t for the perpetual cheshire cat grins on their huge heads.
Eventually the smoke clears and the boys get into their disguises (scarves) and head out for some shopping. Before they get anything done, they encounter a gang of what I assume are orphans. They’re rollerblading and using trash cans as drums. Only orphans do that on Christmas Eve. Now that I can relate to! Another song and dance goes down and you’re lucky I can’t find a clip of it on YouTube. But here’s the next song, in which a bobble-head version of something resembling Splinter sings a crummy song.
Sweet gift, Mike. If someone gave me a framed pepperoni pizza for Christmas I’d throw up everywhere. And why is Blossom in the sewer on Christmas Eve? Makes perfect sense!
In conclusion, there’s nothing pretty about spending Christmas With the Turtles. I’d rather spend it with the Mansons.