Really Bad Santa: The Four Worst St. Nicks

Something interesting (read: blasphemous) occurred to us the other day. Santa Claus, as he is known today, is awfully similar to Jesus. There’s just nothing he can do wrong, his entire philosophy is built around the concepts of good and evil, and he brings presents to every good boy and girl every December and fights crime the other eleven months of the year.

Sadly, the similarities end there, unless one of you can come up with some conclusive proof that the apostle Mark was three feet tall and liked to build wooden toys, or was made of clay and secretly dreamed of being a dentist. Anyone? Nothing, huh. Well, moving on.

Marcus, get this kid off me before he pisses on me

Jesus, while we’re on the subject, has never been portrayed as a white trash alcoholic who likes to nail fat girls in the…changing booth. Not that there’s anything preventing the Son of God from being portrayed as a bitter, suicidal asshole with a thing for backdoor action. We’re just saying that it hasn’t happened yet.

Or rather, the idea hasn’t yet occurred to Billy Bob Thornton, who played arguably the most realistic Santa yet to date. From swilling rye while taking gift wishes from little kids to nailing Lorelei Gilmore while heroically shitfaced, Billy Bob’s Santa is one we could see ourselves proudly emulating if this whole internet comedy thing doesn’t work out.

Question: What’s better than a third-rate slasher film with a stupid pun in the title?

Oh, we went there

Give up? It’s one where the slasher in question is none other than jolly old Saint Nick.

Why yes, that IS Jewish wrestler Bill Goldberg

2005’s Santa’s Slay is one of those films you hope fits into the “so bad it’s good” category. Considering the content, the premise is pretty solid: Santa, who is actually the son of the devil, loses a bet with angel and has to spend 1000 years playing nice and delivering gifts once a year to all the world’s ungrateful little shits who will undoubtedly break their toys and promptly crap in the boxes.

But once the time runs out, well, let’s just say everyone is getting lumps of coal in their stockings this year…if by “stockings” we mean “faces” and by “coal” we really mean murders.

According to our figures here {Editor’s Note: you should know that every Gunaxin article involves a certain degree of hardcore Science Action} the only thing that could possibly top a demonic, murderous Bill Goldberg Santa would be some kind of crazy, short-circuited, murderous robot. But where would we find one of

Oh, right

Not only is this Santa all of the things we just said a few seconds ago but can’t remember now, he’s also a short-circuited, murder-crazy robot. {See? Science in action, ladies.} Futurama is arguably the best-written prime time animated series ever to grace the small screen, so it should come as no surprise that Santa Bot is so near and dear to our pathetic human hearts. Not only that, he’s an equal opportunity destroyer, unlike that biased asswipe Kris Kringle.

Meanwhile, back in Hollywoodland, there sits a little film you might not want to show your little group of elves  (or any other small people in your charge) this coming Christmas. You might be thinking, “How can anything come close to a demonic Santa played by a massive Jewish pro-wrestler?” Our answer? Don’t be so goddamn lippy, smartass. Also:

Silent Night, Deadly Night is 1984’s answer to all those warm Christmas memories you thought were safe from cheesy effects and loud orchestral crashes. In the film, a young boy witnesses his parents’ murder at the hands of a thief dressed as Santa. He’s then sent off to an orphanage where his, um, maturity is harshly stunted by a sadistic headmistress.

Once out in the free world, he takes a job at a department store where, despite it making not a single measurable unit of god-damned sense, he’s forced to dress up as, you guessed it, Santa Claus. Naturally, the first thing he sees is two people getting nasty in a storage room, and he snaps. It’s all pretty much downhill from there, and not in the Clark Griswold greased trashcan lid way. More in the horrible “Oh God why is my spleen in the microwave” kind of way.

This Christmas, when you’re drunk as a lord on Ye Olde Whiskey Nog (secret recipe: 3 parts Whiskey, no parts Nog), be sure to keep all these awful Kringles in mind. Sure, you might get hammered and take a swing at Grandma Harriet, but that’s probably as bad as things will get. It’s not like you’re going to murder everyone, right?

Right?

{Editor’s Note: Gunaxin is staunchly opposed to murders of any sort. Also, as a general matter of etiquette, we frown on grandmother-punching in all its various forms.}