As another Novemblog comes to a close, I would like to thank everyone who has stopped by to read some of the posts. Apparently, France and the Ukraine are pretty big on tuning in, so, thanks. You're doing some dude in the United States' work. And to everyone who tuned in stateside, well, thanks for stopping by. For once, I'm actually hoping to get this post out before midnight (and thereby keep it as a proper Novemblog). And, unlike previous years where I either went way, way, WAY off the rails with some sort of shaggy dog story with randomly (or not so randomly) capitalized letters, or I just sort of coasted on in with a recap of the stats for the month and just shot for the word limit. I think that I should be in decent shape on the word limit this year, having been roughly 7,700 words shy as of a few days ago and having written at least four posts of at least 1,670 words (leading to at least 6,680 words taken care of (and frankly, probably more than that, since I think that the Thanksgiving post was at least 2,000 words), so if I hit the word count tonight, I should be in excellent shape). this year, though, I actually have something to talk about for the final post, and it's something that I wasn't quite expecting.

I had planned to do something about the nature of endings, and how they're important. I've read several books where the ending is what made it (Catch 22) or broke it (The Light in the Forest), and I really just want a satisfying ending. It doesn't have to wrap much of anything up or be particularly cheery- I just want it to fit thematically and with the characters motivations. The Lady, at least with movies, disagrees strongly and would prefer the endings all be happy. This has led to some differences of opinion with movies we have recently seen. There would have been a post trying to analyze why endings work or don't work, and it probably would have been thoroughly pedantic and sort of blah.

Tonight, though, I'm not going to talk about that (well, any more than I already have). Over the past month, you've probably noticed repeated references to "history's greatest monster." I'll jokingly say that I am, or maybe you prefer that take of The Simpsons and think it to be Jimmy Carter. Maybe there's somebody special in your life who is just the worst and makes everything absolutely terrible (but not in a full on genocide sort of way, because we're not looking to be that much of a downer here tonight). All of these answers are wrong.

Since it's December, it's getting to be the time when there are lots of Christmas specials. Some are undisputed classics (various forms of A Christmas Carol- I tend towards George C. Scott, followed by the Muppets), some are saved by nostaglia (basically anything by Rankin Bass and/or Frosty the Snowman), and some are undisputedly awful (the fabled Star Wars Christmas Special that even George Lucas thought was just too terrible to show). Last year, I went to some friends' house for a Christmas party, and we watched several overall delightful Muppet Christmas specials- namely, the Sesame Street Christmas special (in which Big Bird does a lot of cocaine), A Muppet Christmas Carol (in which Michael Caine does a lot of Michael Caine), and, most importantly, A Muppet Family Christmas. It was in this last one that I found history's greatest monster.

For those of you who haven't seen it, the special begins with the Muppets of The Muppet Show heading to Fozzie's mother's farm for Christmas. Fozzie's mother, meanwhile, is planning to head to Malibu for a nice vacation and is renting out the cottage to Doc and Sprocket (apparently of Fraggle Rock fame), who just want a nice quiet holiday. Yes, this is a bit of a dick move by Fozzie Bear (who justifies it by saying that his mother "loves surprises"), but everyone seems to adjust fairly well to the situation. You get to see the Fraggles, the Sesame Street crowd comes by, the Muppet Babies get introduced through an old home video, Miss Piggy finally arrives (having been held up at a photoshoot by the blizzard), and Jim Henson even makes a very touching (especially in hindsight) cameo.

I'm sorry, there's some... snow in my eye.

All in all, it's a pretty nice Christmas special. So, who in it is history's greatest monster? Is it Oscar with his grouchy ways? Is it Elmo or Grover, who are both pretty great? Is it Sweetums, who is immense and truly a great monster in the old sense of the word? Is it even Doc, who so hates the Fraggles and is pretty curmudgeonly towards the Muppets? No, it's none of them. It's this asshole:

A plaid scarf with aviators is reason enough.

This, dear friends, is The Christmas Turkey. He is lured to Mama Bear's farm by the Swedish Chef, who intends to use him for Christmas dinner. Okay, fine. That's a pretty dick move, Swedish Chef. We get that you're funny and well-liked, but that doesn't mean that you just get to lure a sapient turkey to a farmhouse to kill and eat it. That's some serial killer stuff right there. How can that turkey end up being history's greatest monster?

Oh, keep reading.

See, the turkey is warned by Gonzo that the Chef is probably going to use him for dinner. The Turkey, being just too cool for Muppet school (despite the hand(s) up his ass), brushes him off. When, surprise, surprise, the Chef tries to get him into the oven, The Turkey tries to get out of it. That's certainly not a good reason to be history's greatest monst- oh.

He offers Sprocket (who, remember is Doc's dog) to the Chef and tries to convince him that Sprocket is a turkey. He decides that the proper course of action here is to try to have the kindly old chef kill a dog and feed it to everyone for Christmas dinner. Oh, it gets better/worse.

See, Doc cares about his dog and explains to the Chef that Sprocket is not a turkey (although, hey, maybe Sprocket looks like a Swedish turkey? Add an umlaut to that and you've probably got an IKEA turkey). Good for you, Doc. While this is happening, The Turkey is hitting on Camilla. You know, Gonzo's chicken girlfriend. Let's review.

-Turkey is invited to house by a Chef around Christmas. Unwisely accepts.
-Turkey arrives at house. Is warned by a strange blue something.
-Turkey is about to be cooked. Shifts focus to a dog.
-Turkey makes a move on the strange blue something's girlfriend.

OH IT GETS EVEN BETTER/WORSE.

The poor Chef just wants to make Christmas dinner. He went there with a bunch of his friends and co-workers, and he really just had one job. He wants to do it well. Now there are a bunch of folks from Sesame Street here, and everyone's hungry, and he hasn't even gotten the turkey for Christmas dinner into the oven. This is turning into a disaster, but he can salvage it if he can just get everything started. He corners the little fucker and is getting him ready to go into the oven. I mean, surely this is the end of this annoying little shit, right? He's going into the oven, and yeah, it's going to be dark, but we've all seen The Dark Crystal- Henson was into some pretty dark stuff. It's all over, right?

Well, not quite. The little fucker is nothing if not clever, and he shows the Chef something that would be a better solution to his problem. No, not a vegetarian option or some sort of takeout (which would be unfeasible given the blizzard that's keeping Miss Piggy out of here thus far). He realizes that the Chef just wants him because he's big. So all he needs to do is find a bigger bird. You know, a real Big Bird. He fucking sells out Big Bird to the Chef.

And now you know the Swedish Chef's O-face, and it cannot be unseen.

I mean, what in the actual fuck? This Turkey, this talking bird decides to sell out a different talking bird who is, frankly, much more sympathetic. It's Big Bird, for God's sake. He's an American icon. At least two generations of kids have grown up with Big Bird, and they all love him.

Even when he's on a his annual Christmas cocaine bender.

Thankfully, the oblivious (and rightly so, because why would his Swedish friend try to hurt him? Why would anyone try to hurt Big Bird? This isn't a very special episode in a bicycle shop or with a phony detective or with caffeine pills or with Will's deadbeat dad. This is A Muppet Family Christmas. This Turkey is trying to kill family now.) Big Bird manages to win over the Swedish Chef with chocolate covered birdseed and a song, who decides to serve shredded wheat and cranberry sauce, which Big Bird apparently loves. All is right with the world. Now, it's time for them to figure out that they've been hoodwinked by that fucking Turkey and show him how they administer justice on the street- the Sesame Street, that is.

Burt's going to teach you about the letter pain and the number "OH GOD MAKE IT STOP I'LL DO ANYTHING YOU SAY JUST MAKE IT STOP"

Nope. The Turkey is there with the rest of them (even Gonzo, whom he tried to cuckold not half an hour before), singing carols and being all happy. The Turkey tried to steal Gonzo's girlfriend and tried to get both a dog and friggin' Big Bird killed, and he's off singing carols with the gang.

I'd say that he gets no comeuppance and that he's just a one-off character, but Henson Studios know not to let a puppet go to waste, and they know that their fans are hungry for blood. The turkey has appeared twice more (according to the Muppet Wiki). Once, it's in the Muppet version of "Bohemian Rhapsody," in which he's in the clutches of the Swedish Chef. The other time, he shows up in A Muppet Christmas Carol, being sold by a street vendor. Now, in A Christmas Carol, after Scrooge's epiphany and reclamation, he sends a little urchin boy out to send for the prize turkey at the poulterer's on the next street but one (I may have seen a particular version of A Christmas Carol a few too many times). In most versions, he just sends it to the Cratchits anonymously. To condense it, though, the Muppet version has him go to Bob's house and tell him how he's doubling his salary and all that (in the process, bringing an entourage of other Muppets from throughout the city, which makes dick moves and uninvited guests a theme in Muppet Christmas programming) and then give him the turkey and have a big feast with all the other Muppets. The part of me that believes in justice, the part of me that remembers that Jim Henson so loved to make things dark just under the surface, it looks at that turkey, cooked and sitting on the table, and it approves.

Michael Caine: Delivering justice with a smile.