Fractured Rankin Bass Synopses By Tracy Levitz
Tracy Levitz Says Go On




From The Archives:
Rudolph and Frosty in HD, SoCo Brand Eggnog:
How Could Things Go So Very Awry?

As it originally appeared on my Myspace blog (yeah)
Saturday, December 09, 2006

 ---- I am spending my Saturday night trying to get dried jello out of the The Seizure Shirt -- so named because of its magenta and kelly green stripes -- and some other unnamed article of clothing before they start drawing ants. Considering the evening started out with a round of Rankin Bass Christmas specials and eggnog, I'm not sure how it came to this. Oh wait, yes I do. When The Captain is floating on the eggnog like a tanker spill, you can fairly well guess events will take a turn for the worse. Rudolph. You know the story. Reindeer with serious birth-defect (no doubt thanks to mom's pre-natal eggnog tippling) shames his father, is shunned by the very Aryan society in which he lives and the authority figure who is alternately called 'Santa' and 'Papa' by his 'family.' Does however discover that female reindeer love the disfigurement thing and the bad boy image that goes with it. Rudolph decides to catch the next ice floe for LA and is joined by an elf grappling with his sexual orientation and cast out for practicing dentistry without a license. En route, they set up a meth lab in the Christmas Tree Forest, briefly fall into gang life ('The Misfit Toys') and are taken in by a predatory, dog-sled driving prospector with the disturbing habit of suggestively licking his pickax. Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the group sleeping arrangements, Rudolph decides to return home. He commits acts of heroism, is eventually rejoined by the elf, prospector and a snow beast they've been keeping captive so they elf can "practice his dentistry." There was some sort of lesson in all this but damned if I know what it is.






From The Archives:
By Request: The Nothing's Sacred Synopsis
of The Year Without A Santa Clause

As it originally appeared on my Myspace blog (yeah)
Sunday, December 10, 2006

---- (or, Col, this one's for you)...The Year Without A Santa Claus? Easy! That's the one where there's yet more running-away-from-home? What is it with Christmas specials and running away from home? And with the same Karl Rovian message: no Santa, no toy delivery, no Christmas. Santa burns out, develops coke habit. Mrs. Claus, no longer falling for the "it's just a little cold" excuse, decides to throw Santa's increasingly-scrawnier ass in rehab. Two elves, tired of the drug-fueled rages, beatings and verbal abuse, steal a sleigh and a deer. Stolen sleigh breaks down in small, gothic southern town (Southtown USA -- definitely in a red state) with many dark and no doubt incestuous secrets. Elves flee, leaving the deer, Vixen, to the sadistic sheriff, who throws him in a juvenile boot camp where he nearly dies. The elves, with grand theft sleigh charges hanging over their tiny elfin hats, are lured into the adult film business (under the names Jingle and Jangle Balls, or 'The Balls Brothers') by a deceptively kindly evangelical family sheltering them from the police. Meanwhile, Mrs. Claus is nearly forced to strike an unseemly bargain with two rival crime lords, The Miser Brothers in order to save the family farm... oops, wrong special. Long story short, Christmas is ultimately saved by the same unnamed angel investors who might bail out Pittsburgh Brewing.








What does Krampus have to do with FRBS?
Not much other than being a totally redeeming feature of
the holiday season (and a nod to the Austrians in the family).


From The Archives:
In Which I Hone My Procrastination Skills: Next, Frosty!
As it originally appeared on my Myspace blog (yeah)
Monday, December 11, 2006

---- Strange rotund pipe-smoking man with some sort of reverse seasonal affective disorder meets little girl online. Offers to show her his "magic hat," arranges to meet her at a Denny's near the turnpike. The little girl, very bright except for the befriending older strangers from chatrooms part, quickly realizes her new pal -- bizarrely pale, unable to recall his name and given to blurting out "happy birthday" at inappropriate moments -- is special. Special in the Lenny-from-Of- Mice-and-Men way. Slingblade special. [I will take this moment to apologize to my old friend Chelsea who wouldn't find that humorous in the least. Karma will probably kick me in the ass one of these days.] Heartwarming moment is interrupted by a failed actor turned bounty hunter who wants to take the newly-dubbed "Frosty" back to a group home and steal the magic hat for himself because it has drugs or something sewn into the lining. Or he'll get his own A&E reality series out of the deal. I know, I know... do you have any idea how hard it is to come up with this sh*t day after bleeding day? Little girl and Frosty run away (enough with the 'running away from home' theme already!) with the bounty hunter and a sympathetic social worker in pursuit. There's more fleeing. Frosty nearly dies from exposure in an unseasonably warm climate. There's more fleeing. The little girl hopes for aid from Santa Claus. No aid is forthcoming as Santa and all his elves have been eaten by polar bears -- whose feeding habits and migratory patterns have been disrupted by shortened seasons and accelerated icemelt. [Note: that part's actually true] The sympathetic (read:liberal) social worker brings Al Gore to the rescue. Everyone learns a valuable lesson about global warming. The End. I think I'm done now.





Fractured Rankin Bass Synopses

From The Archives:
One More -- Santa Claus Is Coming To Town!
As it originally appeared on my Myspace blog (yeah)
Wednesday, December 20, 2006

---- Or, Because Someone Has Yet To Drive A Stake Through The Heart Of Either Of These Menu Jobs... and I need to seriously indulge myself...And an announcement to the wee little kids. Because it's almost that time of year again and, after the week I've had, I'm going to straighten this out once and for all. For The Last Time. There are NO f*cking polar bears at the South Pole and NO penguins at the North. Yes, I know the 'polar' in polar bear is rather misleading, indicating, perhaps, either/or when it comes to Poles. But much like the Highlander, for bears, there is only one and that's the North. Read for comprehension. Or, better yet, find out what your teacher's up to when she sends you off to the Internets unsupervised. Now, on to Santa Claus. An orphan from the Streets who, despite his brutal upbringing in foster care, never lost his idealism .... Elfin baby secretly delivered at Senior Prom. Promptly (haha) abandoned on doorstep of the BoroCouncilMeister. When not capriciously raising the permit fees of widowed, cancer-patient hot dog vendors at the behest of a local restaurant cartel, the BoroCouncilMeister conveniently dabbles in black market adoption. Unfortunately baby has pointy ears and a vaguely ethnic look to him, fails to fetch a buyer. Is sold at a discount to an elderly couple running a sweat shop. Shop produces cheap celebrity-branded toys cobbled together with choking hazards and lead-based paint. The elf, Kris, works his way up from the factory floor to mule, smuggling product into third world countries with less exacting health and safety standards -- thus delighting impoverished children who might otherwise only get a rock, machete, firearm or nasty much-older husband for Christmas. Also manages to seduce hot humanitarian, Sally Struthers, with his "love for the children" and random acts of genorosity. Alas, a wave of celebrity adoptions deplete the third world child supply more effectively than famine, plague, genocide or any of the other usual stuff. Kris goes to work for Mattel, hence is Santa Claus.


Tracy Levitz Widows N Orphans