A Very Junkfood Christmas

junkfood_christmas

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; there arose such a taco platter. This is the broad-faced, round-bellied bad movie column that mines the lustre of greatness from schlock of even the dimmest merit. We tear open the stinker, throw up its faults, but in those wildly flaunted faults we find a bundle of enjoyment. As if that weren’t enough for all our readers on the nice list, or the naughty list (let’s face it), we then pair the movie with a unseasonably fattening snack food item guaranteed to eventually make you shake when you laugh at our terrible puns. If ever there were a holiday film worthy of being called ho-ho-horrible, it’s the infamous Star Wars Holiday Special. Instead of lamenting on and on about the innumerable woes of this holly jolly abortion, which would require several ticks off your sadvent calendar, it seemed more appropriate to gather everyone around the fire place, as the sugar cookie Pop Tarts roast away, and read you the classic story Twas The Night Of The Star Wars Holiday Special by Verily Ann Author. This is a real book that really exists for good and true but don’t look it up because that’s mean.

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Junkfood Cinema

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; our reindeer games are Reindeer Games. Twas the night before Christmas, and here at JFC, we’re administering cinematic pain with despicable glee. These holiday movies are awful, fraught with despair. And at first we treat them with an appropriate lack of care. But then we reverse, like our heads we did wound, seeing to it that with love these turds are festooned. To top it all off, ‘ere we roll out of sight, we pair the film with a snack to make your Crisco-mas bright. And now we present, before this stops being funny, a disaster called Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny.

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Junkfood Cinema

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; home of the fried food advent calendar. As December marches on, here at JFC it’s beginning to look a lot like Type-II diabetes.  We are back yet again to roast a particularly horrible cinematic chestnut on the open fire of relentless mockery as you struggle to keep the terrifying Jack Frost from trying to bite pieces of your face off; seriously, how scary is that song? But then, I will sugarcoat that same chestnut (plum? bag of mixed metaphors?) with genuine adoration until you are confronted with the unconquerable desire to take me off your Christmas card list and add me to the one enigmatically marked “People to Letter Bomb.” To make your season especially bright, in much the same fashion that nuclear blasts are quite luminous, I will then pair the film with a festively tasty, disgustingly decadent snack food item. Today’s figgy pudding of shame: Elves.

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Junkfood Cinema

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; slippery when festive. You and your intrepid team of reindeer, who may or may not be aerial yaks, have flown your sleigh past the mountains of good taste and crash-landed here on the island of misfit movies. Each week I will crank out one of these Charlie-in-the-boxes, pointing at its flaws and laughing like the meanest little bastard on the naughty list. But then, realizing how dangerously close I am to not getting any presents this year, due to the aforementioned bastardness, I will make a sappy speech in front of a glowing Christmas tree professing how much I loved this movie from the start. That cheap gesture should secure me that Chocolate-Covered French Fry Maker I’ve had my eye on. To put a bow on this whole affair, I will offer up a sugar-laden snack food item paired to the film that will constrict your arteries like Santa climbing down a cramped chimney. This week’s flimsy gingerbread house: Home Alone 2.

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Junkfood Cinema

Welcome back to Junkfood Cinema; try our new pecan marshmallow yule log, patent and FDA approval pending. Happy December, everyone; it’s the most wonderful time of the month! Despite your busy schedule of shopping, decorating, and pretending to tolerate those relatives you can’t stand, you somehow managed to find time to topple down the chimney of another JFC. We are sort of like fruitcake; nobody ever asks for us, no one knows how we came to be a tradition, and no matter how clearly you state your distaste for us we keep turning up. Every week in the month of this month I will be Nationally Lampooning a festively terrible holiday film. But then, like a Christmas miracle, I will flip the flop and confess as to why the film is precisely my particular brand of egg nog. To put the star atop the proceedings, I will then offer a greasy, but delectable snack food item paired to the film in the hopes of making your waistlines a little less merry. This week’s sugar plum: Home Alone.

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published: 04.17.2014
B-
published: 04.17.2014
D+
published: 04.17.2014
B-
published: 04.16.2014
B+

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