Holy shit, that bear nativity is one of the creepiest fucking things the Rude Pundit's ever seen. In case you don't know, Veggie Tales are cute vegetables who love Christ and salad tossing. That right there is the Veggie Tales Nativity. And, of course, guilt-ridden Christians want to make sure that Santa toes the party line, you know.įor the holiday, here's a few of the Rude Pundit's favorite nativity sets, none of which are intended to be mocking of the event: Either way, we want them both to tell us we're good people, nice people. Except this: we want to embrace both things, good deconstructionists that we are: Santa, who soothes our greed, and Jesus, who promises us peace. There's no telling what it means (and don't get all up in the Rude Pundit's face about St. Santa showing that he'll even honor the king of the Jews in the land of Islam. The Savior has been born and he thanks you for your presents. Surprisingly, neither Mary nor Joseph seemed rattled by the noise, although a camel was looking upward, as if asking, 'What the fuck?' The Rude Pundit loved that camel.Īh, sweet camel, what the fuck, indeed. Another display had the jolly old fat man landing his sleigh and reindeer on the roof of the manger. One window had a kneeling, praying Santa next to a baby Jesus in the manger. There he saw the agony of so many dichotomous feelings about this holiday. In the days before Christmas, the Rude Pundit roamed his neighborhood, looking at the displays in the charming stores and corner markets. Xmas - And, lo, a small teddy bear will lead them: Reruns are good for the soul.īefore Twitter, Instagram, Buzzfeed, Pinterest, and many other places you can get your fix of weird shit, the Rude Pundit posted this Christmas blast back in 2004, updated with a new bit of freakishness: Like movies about Bedford Falls suicides and tortured ghosts and pole-frozen tongues, some things are a tradition around the rude house. Like 'Jennifer in Thailand' or 'CockMonger in Poughkeepsie.' (The Rude Pundit will Skype both of you today.)Īnd email 'em to rudepundit_at_. Just in case that great honor is bestowed on you, give the name you want with it and a place (city or state or country, however vague you'd like to be). Your prize? Um, you get published on the blog. Using his superhuman abilities to judge everything, the Rude Pundit will choose the best to be published on the blog. The rules are simple: Real haiku (not some half-assed limerick) and a subject from this year. So starting on Monday, the Rude Pundit will post some and then he invites you, the devoted and/or perverse rude reader, to contribute your own. You see how that goes? Five syllables in one line, seven in the next, five in the last one. Instead, he kicks the poetry jams with some haiku as a sharp needle to poke into the brain about the last dozen months. Every year, the Rude Pundit doesn't sit there and pen some naval-gazing bullshit about what roughly sucked balls and what gave a delicious hummer this year. It's that time of year around this here bloggy parts. What else? The film Nightcrawler? Thao with the Get Down Stay Down live? New Girl getting even funnier? The play Dry Land? Okay, moving on.Ģ. And he played 'Debra,' which brought the Rude Pundit no end of boogie-down bliss. Instead, it was an old-school dance party, with Beck breaking into 'Billie Jean' at one point. Playing guitar again like a boss after a long, painful recovery from spinal surgery, Beck didn't dwell in his mellow, beautiful new album. Or like Beck in concert, the first time the Rude Pundit's seen him live since the Odelay days. Like Rick and Morty, the animated show by Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon, which was alternately fucked-up and poignant, sometimes both at once, as when Morty, the grandson of the mad, dimension-leaping, alcoholic scientist, Rick, buries a dead version of himself so he can take his place back in his family. Holy shit, the Rude Pundit can't believe he left out some of his favorite stuff from this past year when he was writing about, well, hell, his favorite stuff from this past year. (The Rude Pundit is still going through the piles of poems he received. On to the readers' haiku: For shits and giggles, let's stay west of the Mississippi today, with no California at all, just to show that Rude America really does go from sea to shining sea and is not just centered in the liberal wilds of the sinful Northeast or the whoredom that is Cali.įrom Dan in Bellingham (that's in Washington and a damn pretty town): As we continue with the haiku review of 2014, the Rude Pundit has a few to toss into the mix:

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