Something occurs to me in thinking about Christmas movies, and in particular the flock of soppy happy-clappy wisps that are churned out every year for Lifetime, Hallmark, and the like. I’ve watched way more than my share of them in recent years—there’s a horrid fascination with them, like I can’t believe that this one is going to be even worse than the one I saw last week.
But it always is.
And here’s what I’ve gleaned from these mass-market two-hour contemporary holiday cards.
Apparently the True Meaning of Christmas is that if you’re no older than 32 and drop-dead gorgeous (preferably blonde), you’ll find your genuine (and usually very wealthy) love at the holidays.
I guess the rest of us can just mainline Dalmane throughout December.
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