Christmas is for family. Christmas is for giving. Christmas is for love. Christmas is for celebrating the birth of Jesus. Right? Ha! Not a chance in HELL with this "holiday" short, buddy.

Meet Joe. A bitter, 1950's, whiny-ass loser. Joe cannot keep even the simplest job. Joe yells at his Nazi mail-order bride at the drop of a hat. Joe fathers a kid, but then runs out on her. He is the very embodiment of a cross between an Eisenhower-era "Falling Down" man and a Dr. Phil patient. Yet somehow, HE gets picked to be the department store Santa Claus. Yea, gods!

While spitting out his invective against the world, Joe is befriended by the store's old coot of a janitor, Uncle Billy. A bearded, Amish-looking pervert who goes on and on so much about how much HE would love to be Santa and how much he loves kids sitting in his lap, that he makes Jerry Sandusksy look like a eunuch. When he is not busy stuffing his hands down Joe's pants or reverse cowboy riding Joe's leg, he is secretly casting voodoo-like spells, in order to take the Santa job for himself and drive Joe back to go his multi-accented wife and out of his hair.

In the end, Joe is driven back to his wife (with their next breakup ready to commence in two weeks) and Uncle Billy will make Santa's Chair a place more foul than any random Occupy Wall Street camp.

Here "Days of our Lives" meets "It's a Wonderful Life" as this dysfunctional lump of bitter, hateful coal will fester in your holiday stocking for weeks after the Christmas tree is taken down and the ham dinner has been digested.