Hi, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab...
I want to see this film, but I don’t want to see some sissified, chopped-up, toned-down pussy version. I want to see the same version that made Harry and Mr. Beaks and so many other people gasp and choke and laugh. I want to see Zwigoff’s cut before Dimension came crashing down on him, waving low test scores over their heads like samurai swords. I better not see no gawdamn PG-13 on the poster for this puppy, ‘cause if I do, someone’s gonna give some blood the hard way.
In the meantime, here’s a peek:
Hey Harry,
I was a real bad Santa, in real life.
I go to screenings a lot, because they call me a lot. My name must be on a list, and I'm glad because I like it for sure.
Harvey and the Miramax boys screened Bad Santa for a packed crowd in New Jersey earlier tonight. I just got home, and no I'm not having any dinner at this late hour because of my fucking diet. It's not really a diet, not so much. It's more of a lifestyle change, fucking carbs, fuck! Even after many many many test screenings down there in Edgewater it still freaks me out to see Harvey just wondering around that theater like he works there. I always feel that I should say something, but to tell the truth, I don't really have anything to say to him.
Bad Santa, as you know, is without a fucking doubt THE funniest movie to come along in years and years. There were times tonight when I actually fell out of my seat and onto the filthy floor laughing so hard, and I was NOT alone. The crowd reaction was loud, people roaring, their asses actually falling out into their jeans, their cellphones falling out of their pockets, the red blinking lights on their sneakers going on and off as they stomped the theater floors in robotic delight. I love Bad Santa. I have not laughed that hard since the last good Farrelly Brothers movie. I laughed so hard I fucked myself up good.
I was a bad Santa, it was my job for the better part of a week a few years ago. Imagine a dozen bad Santa's all roaming the grounds around a major convention hall in NY with cigarettes hanging off their lips, booze in their stomachs and hate in their hearts. I even remember one bad Santa actually had a gun strapped to his ankle; he showed it to me. My costume was all fucked. My long hair poured out from under my wig and my everything didn't fit right. I was wearing sneakers along with those fake boot ankle things that started where the sneakers ended and went up my leg. The sneakers were white and I didn't give a fuck. There's just something about that costume that makes me that way. You just can't get any lower. It was some kind of computer convention and I do love a good computer, but once that suit got strapped to my soon-to-be sweltering flesh, SANTA FUCKING HATES COMPUTERS!!! I had no problem taking long belts of the Russian Santa's vodka and chain-smoking smokes in the most trafficked areas. What happened when the cameras got on me? SANTA FUCKING HATES YOU AND SANTA FUCKING HATES THE INTERNET! I was fired and I didn't give a flying fuck! That was back when there was some illness in the sky that was dropping birds at the earth all around the bad saints. The dude with the gun took an upper decker in the bathroom on that third and last day. I grabbed some beer from a private room before I left and went to go play Magic back in Jersey with some proper assholes.
Thanks should be given to all involved for showing exactly what happens when a person suits up in that red bullshit. You could be nice, nice your whole F-ing life, but that shit gets on you and you're being paid, BAM! You're worse than fuck! Call me a real bad Santa if you post my ass.
Thanks for the time Harry. Kisses.
Man, I need to see this. Now. Soon. Yesterday.
"Moriarty" out.
