Bah, humbugowitz!

Before we get to discussing the worst Chrismukkah ever, I have to give some props to what is easily the greatest newspaper headline since the NY Post's "Headless Man Found in Topless Bar." In today's Star-Ledger, we have Mailman by day, award-winning pimp by night. If it was just "pimp by night," it would still be brilliant, but it's the award-winning part that kicks it up several notches. According to the story:

And when agents searched his homes this week, including one in South Jersey, they found a 4-foot-high trophy Thompkins won in 2003.

International Pimp of the Year, it proclaimed.

Who would've thought "I'm Gonna Git You Sucka" was so prescient on this thing? To quote Flyguy, "My bitch better have my money, through rain, sleet or snow. My whore better have my money, not half, not some, but all my cash. 'Cause if she don't, I'm gonna put my foot in her ass."

In more depressing news, not even the annual Chrismukkah episode could help salvage this "O.C." season. Aside from Summer wearing a "Donna Martin graduates" t-shirt and Julie embracing her trailer-trash roots (maybe a bit too quickly, but still funny), there wasn't a lot to enjoy here. Johnny "My pride is too big to accept charity so I'll rob a convenience store whose cash register will be full enough to finance my arthroscopic knee surgery" Harper is such a moron that he and Marissa completely deserve each other; those two should go off and live barefoot in the wilderness together to raise a dozen or so idiot children. The Bar Mitzvukkah was a dumb idea (glad that Schwartz let Sandy explain exactly why before he rolled over and let it happen), but even if I'm willing to go along with it, how can the show spend so much time building up Ryan's inevitable humiliation and then cut away before we actually get to see any of it? Gun, meet third act. Third act, meet gun. Figure out what went wrong.