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Holiday Horrors 2010

Holiday Horrors: Transformers Ad, 1985

Continuing the fabled tradition begun all the way back in 2009, Scratchbomb presents Holiday Horrors and Holiday Triumphs: an advent calendar of some of the more hideous aspects of this most stressful time of year–with a few bits of awesomeness sprinkled in.

Last year at this time, I included the ad in today’s Holiday Horror as part of a larger Holiday Triumphs post on seasonal commercials. But the Triumph designation was meant merely as an umbrella term for the treasure trove of nostalgia contained in those spots. On further reflection, this ad is firmly in the Horror camp.

This ad is extremely unique for many reasons. It is a commercial for a children’s toy aimed squarely at adults. Most toy commercials appeal to kids, hoping they’ll run to their parents and scream GIMME GIMME GIMME! Occasionally, you’ll see one where a parent-type says, “This toy will make a wonderful gift for your child!” But this ad cuts out the middleman and gets right down to brass tacks. Ingenious, and yet oddly creepy.

I mean, we all know that Christmas is all about the presents, but it’s still weird and crass to be told so in point-blank fashion. I should also mention that this ad aired during a holiday special, when a large amount of kids were (presumably) watching. Isn’t this tantamount to saying Santa Claus isn’t real?

I’m sure there are other examples of this kind of appeal, though I can’t think of any offhand. I definitely can’t think of one where one adult told other adults, point blank, that they needed to get this toy NOW because supplies were limited.

“Get ’em now while stores have a good selection,” he says. In the days before e-tail, this was virtually a threat. This ad aired only a year after the infamous Cabbage Patch Kids Wars, when parents literally fought each other to make sure they could bring home the season’s hottest toy

I mentioned this ad aired during a holiday special. I neglected to mention that the holiday in question was Halloween. This commercial ran a good eight weeks before Christmas. Even by modern standards, that’s a tad insane. It specifically advises parents–warns them, one might say–to stock up on Transformers before Thanksgiving weekend. I can’t imagine anyone trying to get away with that now.

If the narrator looks familiar, it’s because he’s former NFL great-turned-actor Alex Karras, best known as Webster’s dad (or if you prefer, Mungo in Blazing Saddles). I suppose he was chosen for his grandfatherly quality, though that’s offset somewhat when he starts talking like Starscream. But I genuinely love that he intones the ROBOTS IN DISGUISE tagline, then keeps on talking as if nothing happened. “Yeah, sometimes I just talk like a robot, no big deal.”

The one thing that puzzles me: The music used in the ad sounds decidedly different than that used in the cartoon. (Trust me, that tune is deeply ingrained in my memory.) I thought maybe this was because the cartoon hadn’t debuted yet, but it looks like it made its US debut in 1984. Maybe they had rights issues, the cartoon being a separate entity from the toy? Any suggestions for an explanation are welcomed, because I am baffled.

Though I am designating this in the Horror side of the ledger, I will say that the moment Alex Karras casually lip syncs ROBOTS IN DISGUISE might be one of the best things ever filmed.

Holiday Horrors 2010

Holiday Horrors: “Merry Christmas, Elvis”

Continuing the fabled tradition begun all the way back in 2009,
Scratchbomb presents Holiday Horrors and Holiday Triumphs: an advent
calendar of some of the more hideous aspects of this most stressful time
of year–with a few bits of awesomeness sprinkled in.

merryxmaselvis.jpgI’m trying to not be mean with these posts. Really, I’m not! To qualify as a Holiday Horror, I think something can’t merely be bad. It has to have an element of exploitation to it.

Christmas is a time when many people find themselves feeling vulnerable and sentimental, and when many other people try to capitalize on those feelings by rushing out something vaguely Christmas-y to tug at their heartstrings. It’s the holiday equivalent of living near a tourist trap and charging people $20 to park on your lawn.

Christmas is one of the easiest and laziest shortcuts to emotional reaction that a writer can take, right up there with endangering a small child. Want a guaranteed blockbuster? Make a movie where a little girl gets kidnapped right around the holidays.

Today’s Holiday Horror demonstrates this principle in spades. It combines a little girl, the holidays, vague religiosity, and a recently departed celebrity to create a thick, sugary gruel. It’s called “Merry Christmas, Elvis,” a Yuletide ode to the King of Rock and Roll recorded only one year after his passing. It is so craven and crass with its heartstring pulling, I’m surprised the producers didn’t shoehorn a puppy or a grandmother into the mix.

Before even hearing it, you can probably guess that this is a country tune. Country music is an uncomplicated medium, where emotions are raw and simply articulated. Sometimes that leads to sheer awesomeness like Johnny Cash. Sometimes it leads to sentimental drivel like you hear in most modern pop-country. And which you will hear in abundance in this tune.

I ran across this years ago thanks to UbuWeb’s 365 Project. Back in 2003, they posted a bizarre song every day of the year. The tunes were usually outsider stuff, like home recordings or self produced singles. “Merry Christmas, Elvis”, credited to a young lady named Michele Cody, has a bit more polish to it. It was clearly a professional job from the Nashville song factory, with session musicians and everything. (Even if the guitarist chooses to use a completely inappropriate Mu-tron effect.)

The person who posted this to UbuWeb (Dancin’ Dave) described it as “perhaps the awfullest 45 I own”. Even though I know nothing of this man’s record collection, that is almost certainly true.

Why am I so sure of this? Because “Merry Christmas, Elvis” is sung by a young lady who looks forward singing Christmas songs with Elvis in heaven. That essentially means she can’t wait to die. Let that sink in while you sip your egg nog. It’s a sentiment you hear often in Christian-y stuff, but it’s one thing to wish to be reunited with a dead loved one. It’s another thing entirely to ask for death’s icy grip to take you so you can jam with Elvis. Plus, I imagine a heavenly Elvis might have different priorities than singing with little girls. Like boning angels who look like Ann-Margaret, for one thing.

This girl’s vision of eternity and the afterlife is akin to that of John C. Reilly in Talladega Nights (“I like to think of Jesus like, with giant eagle’s wings and singing lead vocals for Lynyrd Skynyrd…”) She imagines Elvis (or, in her pronunication, “Evvis”) “singing with the angels on a bright shining star”. Though she also “can’t understand why you had to go.” A crisis of faith! What a spiritual crossroads for such a young girl!

But she recovers from this dilemma long enough to tell Elvis to “wish Jesus a happy birthday”. The first time I heard this, I wanted to punch my computer because of how nakedly pandering it is. Someone must have targeted a certain demographic (ie, rednecks), figured out the three things they love most, and constructed a song around that, sung by an adorable, criticism-proof little girl.

[audio:http://66.147.244.95/~scratci7/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/merryxmaselvis1.mp3|titles=”Merry Christmas, Elvis”]

If this doesn’t make your skin crawl, you should probably go to a doctor to make sure you still have fully functioning skin.

Holiday Horrors 2010

Holiday Horrors: Candy Claus

Continuing the fabled tradition begun all the way back in 2009, Scratchbomb presents Holiday Horrors and Holiday Triumphs: an advent calendar of some of the more hideous aspects of this most stressful time of year—with a few bits of awesomeness sprinkled in.

We’re starting Holiday Horrors off with a bang this year, folks, because I believe I may have found the worst Christmas special ever.

I don’t take such an accusation lightly, believe me. I’ve seen more than my share of Christmas specials, and as I scour my brain for comparisons, I can’t think of one that plumbs the depths of the human spirit any more than the special I share with you today. In fact, I debated sharing this with the world at all, because I thought it might be the Hadron Supercollider of Christmas specials—a show so extraordinary, it could unleash forces that would destroy the earth itself.

I haven’t seen many slasher movies or horror films or Human Centipede, but I can’t imagine any of those things could make me feel worse than I did after I watched Candy Claus.

Here’s how it all started: In one of my many fits of VHS digitizing, I ran across an ad circa 1988 for a 900 number where kids could call up Candy Claus. Back in the late 80s/early 90s, there were literally hundreds of such numbers that tried to get gullible children to call them up and amass enormous phone bills for their parents.

I remember many of these ads, particularly the one for the DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince number, since I had a friend who snuck out of CCD one afternoon to call said number on the church office phone (needless to say, he got into an assload of trouble). However, I have no memory of the Candy Claus commercial. According to Santa’s narration, she was the Christmas Seals Child. I don’t recall her being elected to that position. Perhaps it’s appointed by Congress?

So unmemorable was this ad that not only did I not remember seeing it as a kid, but I completely forgot about the commercial after first posting it to YouTube. Initially, I assumed it was just an attempt to introduce a charity’s mascot, one that presumably did not take off.

But after looking through my YouTube inventory recently, I watched the Candy Claus ad again and began to wonder about it. It’s doubtful a charity would’ve bothered to animate all of this material just for a 30 second spot. I sensed a long-forgotten holiday special was involved somehow.

Turns out I was right. Oh lord, was I right. Although using the word “special” to describe Candy Claus seems bitterly ironic.
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