||Santa Claus Conquers the Martians
||Master Ninja I
Servo: Yeah, that's Harry Connick's girlfriend.
Crow: Oh, yeah.
Servo: Oh, look! Over here, there's more Christmas catalogs: L.L.Bean, Neiman Marcus, Monkey Wards, Fisher's Nuts, Edmund's Scientific... oh, Uncle Bob's Produce Rinse!
Crow: Oh, for the traditional Yuletide Cabbage.
Servo: Right you are. And for the elite little ones, the magical world of F.A.O. Schwarz.
Crow: Parents, remember: kids always know best, so get 'em whatever they want. Look, a $900 taffeta octopus outfit. "Thanks, Dad!"
Servo: Oh, and look over here: a golf ball polisher, only $400 at The Sharper Image. Glad tidings! Glad tidings! You know, Crow, when I see these catalogs and their enchanting, suitable-for-framing covers, I'm reminded of the true joy of a New England Christmas. A gentle snow, all of us snuggled into a blanket as we race home to our cozy hearth and warm fire and our furry little surry.
Crow: Hey! In fact, there it is.
Crow: Only $5,900 from Neiman Marcus. A furry little surry.
Servo: Oh, lemme see! Wow!
Crow: You know, Tommy, when I see these catalogs, all I can see are 800,000 acres of decimated old-growth forest.
Servo: Oh, Crow. Is that really the Christmas spirit?
Magic Voice: Commercial Sign in fifteen seconds.
Joel: Hey, you guys. What are you doin'?
Servo: Oh, just looking at catalogs, dreamin'.
Joel: Oh, have you guys thought about what you want for Christmas?
Servo: Yeah. Me, me, I want a Ted Williams signature inflatable bathtub pillow.
Joel: Oh. Gypsy?
Gypsy: I want a pony.
Joel: Oh Gypsy, we don't have room on this ship for a pony.
Gypsy: Please? Please?
Joel: No, can't do it. What about you, Crow?
Crow: I want to decide who lives and who dies.
Joel: Oh, I don't know.
Magic Voice: Commercial Sign in five, four, three, two... Commercial Sign now.
Joel: We'll be right back.
Crow: You're next.
Dr. F: ...and it comes out as annoying and practical as any gift from Aunt Vida. Check it out: underoos that won't fit for two years.
Dr. F: Earth to Joel! New Santa calling.
Frank: Hey, what does that make me?
Dr. F: Sleep in Heavenly peace! Frank, it's time to reveal this week's Invention Exchange.
Frank: Boy, is it ever gonna sting. Uh!
Dr. F: Sting is right. The holiday season is here, the boss is on vacation, and we've gone crazy! Now I know from experience that nothing chafes a kid's hinder more than his request for a neat toy maligned into a neat and practical gift. Enter the Wish-Squisher.
Frank: Yeah, what you do is you take a really cool toy that any kid would dig like these uh, video cassette cartridge games. You take it, stick it through the Wish-Squisher... Voila!
Frank: And what kid wouldn't love as a gift: more money than he or she will ever deserve. But then, suddenly, it starts to get weird. The rules change; you start to feel kind of bad. Voila.
Dr. F: Yes, what was once the bright promise for the future becomes... your 4-year-old sister's raisin collection.
Frank: And nothing -- and I mean nothing -- is more fun than racing slot-cars, just like this one, around the Christmas tree. But nooooo!
Dr. F: What was once your first-draft, grade-A choice from your parents as a gift becomes... socks.
Frank: Socks, that's right. Yes, what was once crummy, Speedwall, black and green, rayon-encrusted, uncomfortable socks becomes...!
Dr. F: Run it through again, Frank.
Frank: Okay, running it through... the Wish-Squisher... Well, it becomes!
Dr. F: Ah, a gift certificate for a stationery store. Joel?
Servo: You know, Joel, I was wondering: do you think if they sent that really crummy gift through the machine again, it might turn into something neat?
Joel: Hush, boy. You'll anger the overlords. Hello, sirs! Our Invention Exchange this week is based on our Yuletide musings about what would be on the Island of Misfit Toys based on Rankin-Bass' production of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer". Check...
Crow: "Who ever heard of a Charlie-in-the-Box?"
Joel: Exactly! Check it out. Here's a new contribution: uh, buttery, sweet, toaster dolls.
Crow: Yeah, or play Patrick Swayze's Roadhouse Board Game. Become a highly-paid, Tai Chi-weilding, philisophically-alert bouncer like Patrick Swayze in "Roadhouse". Shake the dice, get in a potentially dangerous situation, and use the catch-phrase cards to lash out at your opponents with sayings like, "It's my way or the highway," "Hurts, don't it?" and "You're my new Saturday night thing."
Servo: Or, you can have absolutely no fun whatsoever with this Easy-Bake Foundry. The lightbulb-powered glass furnace turns inexpensive pigiron you find around the house into high-grade steel that's ready for market.
Joel: Okay, and uh, what do you have for us, Gypsy?
Gypsy: Oh, no... no...
Joel: What? Oh, c'mon. Open your mouth.
Gypsy: Uh! Uh!
Joel: Oh! Oh my God!
Crow: Ick, a hairball!
Joel: Oh, no it's not. It's Gypsy's contribution to the Island of Misfit Toys. It's Mr. Mashed Potato Head.
Servo: Oh, puke. Ugh.
Joel: What do you think, sirs?
Frank: Ours was better. Nyah.
Dr. F: And now a Deep 13 holiday presentation, Pia Zadora in "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians". Shield your eyes, Frank.
Servo: Thank you.
Joel: Oh, we got Movie Sign!
Joel: You know, I think it's kind of uh, hot to be wearing these scarves in here.
Crow: Oh, well scarves are a must! You can't go carolling without a scarf. Catch your death!
Joel: Man, you're like one of those kids I remember in high school that used to sell the most candy bars for the marching band.
Servo: Yeah, and he'd be president of the swing choir, too!
Crow: Hehe. Thanks, Joel Robinson! Thanks, Tom Servo.
Servo: What a kiss-up, this guy.
Crow: Uh, okay. Now if you all look at your sheet music, we can rehearse my new song.
Joel: You wrote a Christmas song?
Crow: Hey, there's no tradition like a new tradition!
Servo: Wait a minute. "Let's Have A Patrick Swayze Christmas"?
Crow: Uh, yeah, yeah. Based on my favorite movie, "Roadhouse".
Servo: C'mon, what the heck does Patrick Swayze have to do with Christmas?
Crow: Hey, you keep Christmas in your way and let me keep it in mine, okay?
Servo: Oh, geez.
Joel: Now c'mon, Servo, it seems like a nice enough sentiment; we can give it a shot!
Crow: Alright, okay, okay. Twelve-eighths time.
Crow: Key of A-flat Major.
Servo: Oh, good.
Crow: Cambot, shoot 'em the tune.
Servo: Let's have a Patrick Swayze Christmas...
Crow: Okay, you'll just have to stay with me, everybody. Okay? Uh, your parts are written out. "Let's Have A Patrick Swayze Christmas" by Crow T. Robot.
Joel: Paul... "Let's Have A Patrick Swayze Christmas"?
Crow: Right. Hit it, Cambot!
Servo: Oh, oh! I start. I get it.
Crow: I'm sorry.
Servo: Pick it up... Open up your heart and let the Patrick Swayze Christmas in.
Crow: We'll gather at the Roadhouse with our next of kin.
Servo: Not bad.
Joel: And Santa can be our regular Saturday night thing.
Joel, Crow and Servo: We'll decorate a barstool and gather 'round and sing!
Servo: Oh, let's have a Patrick Swayze Christmas this year.
Crow: Or we'll tear your throat out and kick...
Crow: ...you in the ear!
Joel: Hold it, hold it a second. Cambot, stop it.
Joel: Crow, I don't know if I think this is an appropriate sentiment anymore for Christmas.
Servo: Mmm-mmm. Mmm-mmm.
Crow: Hey, what? Like a good action sequence don't belong at Christmas?
Joel: Well no, it's just that I've never heard of a action sequence [sic] in a Christmas carol before.
Servo: Well, yeah.
Crow: Well then grab hold of your socks and read on, Joel Robinson!
Servo: Okay, pick it up from measure twenty, Cambot? Lovely intro, though. Very tasteful.
Crow: Thank you.
Servo: I like that. It's my way or the highway this Christmas at my ba-a-ar.
Crow: I'll have to smash your kneecaps if you bastards touch my car!
Joel: I got the word that Santa has been stealing from the till.
Joel, Crow and Servo: I think that that right jolly old elf better make out his will! Oh, let's have a Patrick Swayze Christmas one and all. And this can be the haziest...
Servo: Woah! Ooh!
Joel, Crow and Servo: This can be the laziest...
Servo: Ooh! Haha.
Joel, Crow and Servo: This can be the Swayziest Christmas of them all!
Servo: La-la-la-la-la-la, ha-ha!
Crow: How long before it becomes a standard?
Joel: I think you gotta come with me. Come on.
Servo: We'll be right back. Save a leg for me! Hehehe.
Joel: Let's see, we got uh, "Grinch Who Stole Christmas".
Crow: Man, this... "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians" is... really depressing.
Crow: It makes it really feel like Christmas. Ho, ho, no...
Servo: Yeah, I feel jolly. Just like old Saint Nick. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!
Crow: Ah, Ricky, get me a Scotch! I'm suffering Christmas depression! Aah!
Joel: Hey, you guys.
Servo: Joel, Joel. Couldn't we see a more cheerful movie like maybe "The Sorrow and the Pity"?
Joel: Oh. Well I got that all covered, you guys. I uh... I tricked Frank into sending up a bunch of movies up here...
Crow and Servo: Wow!
Joel: And it's something we can watch after the experiment.
Servo: Oh, wow!
Crow: Are you sure that's not "The Fish Who Saved Pittsburgh"?
Joel: Yes, my little Huckleberry friend.
Servo: All right!
Joel: We also got "Mr. Maggoo's Christmas Carol".
Servo: Oh, Jim Backus lives!
Joel: And uh, "Frosty the Snowman".
Crow: Frosty the Snowman! Jackie Vernon did not die in vain!
Crow and Servo: Woo!
Joel: Right, we got Rankin-Bass' "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer".
Servo: Alright! Burl Ives died so that we may enjoy the...!
Joel: Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey... He's not.
Servo: Oh. Sorry, Burl.
Joel: Yeah, and then we've got "A Charlie Brown Christmas".
Crow: Oh boy, I love that one!
Servo: Oh, yeah!
Crow: Especially the part where they eat all those Dolly Madison cakes.
Servo: Mmm, yeah.
Crow: You know uh, Koo-Koo's, Zingers...
Joel: Uh, wait a second. Uh, wait a minute. Those were the commercials.
Joel: Actually, without the Dolly Madison commercials, the entire show is about nine minutes long. Okay?
Servo: Oh, well.
Crow: What's next?
Joel: We got a few others here. We got uh, "It's A Wonderful Life".
Servo: Wow! Really great!
Crow: I love that one.
Joel: Oh, well don't get too excited. It's the lame Marlo Thomas version.
Servo: Shame on you, Marlo.
Joel: We also got uh, "Miracle on 34th Street".
Crow: All right!
Crow: All right!
Joel: Oh, it's the David Hartman one.
Servo: Oh, shame one you, Dave.
Joel: Well we got a few others here, though. It's kinda going to the bottom of the bag here, kinda. We got some low-budget ones.
Joel: "The Christmas That Totally Ruled".
Joel: It's about a kermudginny old man who learns the true meaning of Christmas.
Servo: Fresh idea.
Joel: "The Christmas That Wasn't That Bad", which is about a kermudginny old woman who learns the true meaning of Christmas.
Joel: Then there's "The Christmas That Totally Kicked Ass", which is about a kermudginny old man and a kermudginny old woman who learns [sic] the true meaning of Christmas.
Servo: Oh, well that would be...
Joel: Oh, we got Movie Sign!
Servo: Movie Sign!
Joel: Okay, everybody got their Christmas essays ready?
Crow: Oh, yup.
Crow: Let's go. C'mon.
Joel: Okay, who wants to go first?
Crow: Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!
Joel: Who wants... Do you want to go first? Do you want to? Oh, Crow? You want to go first, buddy?
Crow: Uh, oh. Okay.
Crow: Um, uh... A Christmas Oratory... Oh, wait. "A Christmas Editorial" by Crow T. Robot. Ahem. Hmm. Mmm. Ah.
Servo: Don't you just get on with it, for crying out loud?
Crow: Sorry, I was with... Mmm. Alright uh, okay. "A Christmas Editorial" by Crow T. Robot. Uh, I know I already said that. Um, okay. What's the big deal with Santa's elves, anyway? What happens to all those dumb, wooden trains and horses and cars? No... ever kid gets 'em. These are the kind of toys Grandma drags out at Christmas to decorate the house, which smells like her feet no matter how much Essence of Yuletide Lightbulb Rain Wash she uses. Uh, but I digress. Um, uh... No, these are the real misfit toys. They end up in Marshall Fields window displays and F.A.O. Schwarz catalogs or in overpriced little gift shops in Vermont or Door County, Wisconsin. Ahem. My, my message is for the elves. Gentlemen, what is the problem? Why don't we ever see you in front of a circuit board loading microchips into a Segavision with your little wooden hammers? Elf labor short? The good people of Macow are eager to take your prototypes and turn them into 100,000 knock-offs. Elves and Santa, take an example from the Keeblers. Now there's some fairies who know how to market! In closing uh, step out of the legend days, fellas, and join the century of the Pacific. Oh, and uh, Merry Christmas.
Crow: The end.
Servo: Yay, yay!
Joel: Good job, Crow. Okay, who's next? Tom?
Servo: My turn.
Servo: Thank you, Mr. Joel. Ahem. Okay, my essay is entitled "A Child's Christmas in Space". Uh, lemme set the mood here. Igada-igada-igada. There. Ah. It's quiet in the cold of our own little orbit, starless and Bible-black. And as I look down on the big blue beam we would call home, I think it's so near, yet... Oh, I wish on that star and I hope that in a little snow-covered house with a warm hearth and a loving family, maybe some kid is looking up tonight and wishing upon us. And how I hope sweet Santa will fly by tonight, 'cause if he does, I'm gonna reach right out and hug that big guy. Oh, for the sound of hooves against the steel hull of the ship. Oh, to see the rosy face of Santa in the porthole offering me a Coke and a smile. Of course, his face would be rosy 'cause it's a vacuum out there! I mean, Santa's heart would explode! But he won't feel it, 'cause his capillaries and his brain would pop like little...
Servo: ...firecrackers due to the blood boiling away in his veins like a pudding in a copper.
Servo: Oh, the humanity!
Servo: With his jolly old belly...
Gypsy: Tom... Tom...
Servo: ...would start bubbling like a roasted marshmallow, eyes bulging and popping up. And the reindeer! Oh, the reindeer!
Servo: Each bloating like holiday floats, and then in turn exploding in a hail of blood and entrails.
Servo: Prancer, boom! Dancer, boom!
Joel: Hey! Hey, Tom. Take it easy; Santa's going to be okay, buddy.
Servo: Are you sure?
Joel: Yeah, give him a little credit, okay?
Servo: Oh, what a relief.
Joel: Alright, now it's my turn. I want to do my reading on uh, "Christmas Pasts".
Crow and Servo: Long pasts?
Joel: Well uh, um, yeah. Long... America's past. You know. Okay, I'm talking about the 70's Christmas office party. Back when a fully-stocked bar was considered standard office furniture and office parties were like something out of a Playboy cartoon. Why, the desks would be overflowing with every kind of hard liquor. Why, there were gallons of Scotch, bourbon, vodka, gin, not to mention Galliano, Amoretto, Medori rife, German crockpot gin, you name it. And sexism was blatant. Boy oh boy, you'd find salesmen groping secretaries in the mailroom, keys would be exchanged, and although this was Christmas, Jesus was nowhere to be seen.
Servo: Geez, Joel, and you thought I was bad.
Crow: Yeah, are we really this cynical about Christmas?
Joel: Well uh, maybe Gypsy has a Christmas word for everybody.
Servo: Ooh. Aww.
Joel: Well, Merry Christmas, everybody. We got Commercial Sign over there.
Joel, Crow and Servo: Angels we have heard are high, softly sipping old champagne. Ooooooreo!
Servo: Oh, baby!
Joel, Crow, Servo and Gypsy: Inexpensive knish!
Joel: All right! Oh, for fun.
Servo: Woo, yeah! Stocking time!
Gypsy: Stocking, stocking, stocking!
Servo: Stocking time!
Joel: Alright, yeah. It's stocking time. Okay, hold it, hold it, hold it. We're going to do our stockings and then it's time for bed, okay?
Crow: Okay. Alright.
Servo: Who's first?
Crow: Stock it to me.
Joel: This first one is for Gypsy.
Joel: And look at what we got in there.
Gypsy: Oh, Richard Basehart! Joel, how did you know?
Joel: Oh, I dunno. I just knew.
Crow: Way to go, Gyps'!
Gypsy: Oh, thanks!
Joel: Thank you, Gypsy. And here's Tom's. Let's get that out here.
Servo: Say, look at all the loot!
Crow: He got alot of stuff in his stocking.
Joel: Yeah, he did. Isn't that great, Crow?
Crow: Yeah, really great.
Servo: Thank you, Joel! Thank you, Santa!
Joel: Okay, and here's... here's Crow's.
Crow: Oh, well! I...
Servo: What'd you get, Crow? What'd you get?
Crow: Umm... Well uh, my stocking's got a breatheable cotton panel.
Joel: Oh. Well, and then this... Oh, you guys.
Servo: It's for you!
Crow: Oh, hey!
Gypsy: Joel, Joel, Joel!
Servo: You found it, Joel! Open it.
Joel: Where did you find this?
Servo: Oh, Gypsy found it in the laundry chute.
Joel: Oh, okay.
Gypsy: Read it, read it, read it, read it! And open it.
Joel: Oh, okay... It...
Servo: Gee, you blew it, Gypsy.
Joel: Anyway. Oh, we got a letter here, everybody. Okay.
Servo: Big surprise, huh?
Joel: Let's put that up on Still-Store, Cambot. Good. Okay. "Dear Crow, Tom Servo and Gypsy."
Crow, Servo and Gypsy: Yay!
Joel: "Greetings and pleasantries from the great NW. As the Christmas Season begins, familiar thoughts and feelings abound. The slight chill in the air which you can almost see: Reflecting on years past family togetherness gans mere import on one's sense of priorities; And society begins to, once again, plug into retail commercialism and capitalism..."
Joel: "...in search of the perfect yuletide gifts. Your creation is the only TV program I watch, or used to watch. My husband here and I are experiencing a physical separation now as I'm in the Coast Guard stationed in Seattle. MST3K brings us closer somehow. Is this too schlocky?"
Servo: No, no!
Joel: "I can spout out sophomoric drivel like nobody's beeswax. My apologies. Thank you. Thank you, MST3K, for making us laugh at love... again. Graciously yours, Jennifer Jenkins." Merry Christmas, everybody!
Crow, Servo and Gypsy: Merry Christmas, Joel.
Joel: Merry Christmas, sirs!
Dr. F: Frank, I... I can't wait. I want you to open your gift now.
Frank: Great idea, Pete! As a matter of fact uh, I picked you up a little something myself.
Dr. F: Uh... For me? You shouldn't have.
Frank: It was nothing, really.
Dr. F: Oh, Frank. No, it's the thought that counts. I, I know that you think that I'm probably just a cold-hearted jerk without an ounce of self-respect for myself or anyone else, but on the other hand...
Frank: Merry Christmas, Dr. Forrester.
Dr. F: Merry Christmas, Frank... Oh, Frank! What a lovely watch-band! This must have set you back a pretty penny.
Frank: Well actually I uh, didn't have any money, so I took the liberty of hawking your Rolex and... to pay for that...
Dr. F: You... hawked my Rolex.
Dr. F: Well, it's the thought that counts. Open your gift.
Frank: Oh, boy! I bet it's a book! I bet it's a book!
Dr. F: Yes, it is a book, Frank. It's... It's called "Final Exit". I've been stealing your plasma at night so I didn't have to spend any of my own money.
Frank: Oh, Henry.
Dr. F: Well, until next time, bumpus.
Frank: God bless us, every one.
Dr. F and Frank: Aah!
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