Holiday-themed movies are as ubiquitious in the Christmas season as that inescapable, gawdawful novelty song by Paul McCartney that dominates the airwaves and causes more car accidents in December than driving on icy roads and overindulging at office parties combined.

But does a film necessarily have to include persecuted Santas and suicide-preventing angels to be a true "Christmas classic?" Before you slip in your well-worn copy of Die Hard or Jingle All the Way, consider some titles from The Pink Smoke's alternative list of movies that touch on the most wonderful time of the year (to varying degrees.)

~ by the gentleman of lesiure ~
~ paul cooney ~

With all the talk of a potential black James Bond I recall with fondness the immortal words of Bell Biv Devoe: "Never trust a big butt and a smile." Wouldn't all our lives be happier were we to heed that advice? Did you know most terrorist attacks begin with a big butt?

In any case, I contend the maxim holds true for bow ties as well as butts, and I never trust a man with either, not Bill Nye, not my dad, and certainly not anyone British, whom I don't trust regardless of their attire, the fibbers!

On Her Majesty's Secret Service begins with M wearing a bow tie and Q going on about radioactive lint. I'm disenchanted before the opening credits have even rolled when hello what's this? Bond pervs on a chick with his rifle scope! Things are looking up and I'm not talking about my crotch 'cause this broad is wearing a tremendous amount of clothing even though she's on the beach. Who directed this movie, Osama bin Laden???

007 seems ready to reach for his lube when he notices chiquita isn't interested in catching rays but instead seems intent on suicide, wading into the water like some sort of depressed penguin, only not as cute. Bond springs to action and rushes to her...though he may as well have ambled 'cause sweetcakes was taking her sweet time, getting about ankle deep before being "rescued."

I'm already calling bullshit on the whole escapade and regarding it as a pathetic attention grab from a past-her-prime dame. Who does she think she's fooling with this charade? Bond apparently 'cause he doesn't even drop her when she passes out in his arms. How is she unconscious? Her thighs didn't even get wet! Or is Lazenby such a sex god that merely the first touch causes broads to go limp?

Speaking of wet, Bond is inexplicably wearing some sort of see thru tuxedo shirt and we are getting a healthy dose of his chesticles. In fact thus far we've seen more of his skin than the chick's. Is this what feminism is all about? Who directed this movie Osama bin...oh I asked that already...

Some jabronis show up and Bond kicks some ass while chick wakes up and steals his wheels in gratitude. Nice move, you tart! Oh my bad, she was just too lazy to walk to her own car and took his for a spin. Lazenby wins the day by turning to the camera and saying, "This never happened to the other guy."

Laze craze!! If that quip, coming on the heels of his derring do rescue and by the surf ass-kicking, is any indication of his charm and man-of-action aplomb then he surely has a long career ahead of him. Hold on - my sources are telling me he was an abysmal failure. To the baccarat tables!

We next see Bond playing baccarat while Rigg the Bond girl bares her cleavage in a desperate (and successful) attempt to distract from her rather plain and decidedly English face. She is no Ralph Fiennes!! She acts like she's all full of swag and shit but promptly loses a ton of money and then welches on her debt. Just what the fuck is going on with this broad? Half-assed suicide attempts, ditching Bond on the beach and now trying to gyp a casino out of baccarat money? Check yourself ho!

Bond inexplicably bails her out again by coughing up the do re mi so she's not locked up in a Monte Carlo slammer. She shows her gratitude with a sneer and promptly brushes an innocent casino employee away like he's shit on her stiletto. I welcome her death! (foreshadowing)

After catching her sitting alone at a table (she's got no friends!!) Bond smoothly has some caviar and champagne sent up to her room, heading up there afterwards thinking he's gonna get some Rigg gash but instead finding himself bashed by some no good galoot who is up to no good!

"Gate crasher" Lazenby quips lamely and I fear we've already reached the nadir of this flick and we still gots 2 hours 2 go! After he knocks the thug out Bond doesn't even look around the room for Rigg and just goes back to his own suite. I don't want to question his investigative ability but that was not Eric Stoltz-like some kind of wonderful. It's straight up some kind of bullshit!

Snippety snaps I spoke too soon, Rigg is waiting for Bond in his room, so maybe Jimbo smelled her scent and followed his nose. He doesn't seem all that thrilled to see her however and starts in with the ring a ding ding, smacking her around and wanting some answers! Is this chick Al Qaeda? She did seem to be wearing a burqa of sorts on the beach and I haven't once seen her eat pork this whole movie. Where are the WMD's?? Oh wait, stop hitting her, Bond! Torture doesn't work!!

She spits out some answers and Bond refrains from finishing her off, though that reminds me...she attempted to kill herself on the beach until Bond stopped her, but she's had loads of opportunities to off herself since then. What's the hold up, Princess! Someone get this chick a noose!

Ohh here we go, she don't want to die 'til she gets defiled by 007 himself, throwing herself on him and saying she always pays her debts, which is tantamount to admitting she's a whore. Not even ISIS will take you now, harlot!

Post-coitus the evil rich asshole from Once Upon a Time in the West shows up, named Draco in this picture, and promptly endears himself to the audience by having a bimbo assistant and telling Bond that his daughter needs "a man who will dominate her, a man like you."

It's hard to argue with a man possessing such a great mustache. Who knows best after all? Father, that's who! He's also a mob kingpin and proposes a deal to Bond: you marry my daughter, and I'll give you info about Blofeld.

(That really does happen, as incredibly stupid as it sounds.)

Bond demurs, which, considering he's already boned her and she seems high maintenance, seems like the sensible course of action. He tells Draco his daughter needs a shrink, not a husband. Most likely! Hey Bond, I don't think slapping her around and then screwing her helped her mental state too much, you limey fink!

Back to England! M takes Bond off the Blofeld case, saying it's been two years with no results... wtf? He seems to have a point. Two fucking years? Maybe if you weren't dicking around gambling and fucking psychotic broads you'd have caught that bald asshole already. Where the fuck is 008? Get your ass in here! You've been promoted!

Bond, hurt by this mean treatment, starts to pout and threatens to quit. What is he, NYPD? -zing! Moneypenny bails his ass out however and instead of resigning the poof gets two weeks paid leave.

I wish I had a two week paid leave from watching this movie, as what follows next is a love montage! Not a gonzo fuckfest mind you, which is always both welcome and appropriate, but a cloying collection of Bondsy Wondsy and Riggs being all cute together, culminating with them falling in love. Wtf! The mob boss' loony plan worked! He found a dominant man to beat and screw his wack job daughter into sanity. Nice of Bond to become bros with the head of a crime syndicate too. Her majesty is ok with this? Of course she is! She's head of one of the greatest criminal enterprises in the history of humankind! England! Where is my Guy Fawkes mask when I need it? Oh snaps it's at the dry cleaners.

Where was I? Jeez louise take me back to the love montage, now I find myself watching Bond making copies. Is this what passes for excitement in Lazenby's world? He breaks into the office of a lawyer and, while waiting for a machine to do his work for him, lazily flips through a magazine. Don't worry audience, we get to watch every second of this scintillation!

The director tries to inject some tension into the scene by cutting to the scenes of the lawyer, Myron Nerdlinger esq., on his way back from lunch. Oh no! What if he gets back to his office and finds Bond in there! He's an old man whom Bond will just brush aside and...well I guess I shouldn't be too hard on the scene as Bond ends it by stealing the centerfold from the Playboy he was browsing through while bored. It's a classy move and I approve!

Speaking of perversions, when next we see Lazenby he's sporting a kilt and infiltrating a harem of girls undergoing treatment for allergies. Let's hope they're not allergic to dick amirite? Don't you roll your eyes at me!

I can't say I'm impressed with this kilt business however. So far this flick suffers from a dearth of dames in latex and overabundance of Bond wearing a kilt. Lazenby is no Braveheart! He didn't even paint his face blue!

In fact, instead of donning the personage of a Scottish madman/freedom fighter, Bond impersonates a prissy geneaologist and uses the alias Hilly (gaylias? TM). It's ridiculous but evokes memories of Sir Galahad in Monty Python's Holy Grail. Will Bond find himself in terrible peril surrounded by these lonely, horny broads? Judging by the looks of one of the curly haired English chix I should say so! She's gross! Where is Raquel Welch when you need her?

That reminds me: Bridgette Bardot was originally sought for the Rigg role and let's all take a moment to lament the terrible casting choice that resulted after she rejected this merdefest.

Back to the debauchery! Bond rails the English broad then uses the same seduction line on chick number 2! For shame sir! His caddish behavior is finally punished when the old frau pulls the switcheroo on him and he's blackjacked into unconsciousness.

Who is capable of capturing a man like Bond? Aside from every adversary he's ever faced I mean. In this instance it's Blofeld as played by an earlobe-free Telly Savalas. Did you know Telly actually had his earlobes removed for the film? That's 'cause it's not true! It's called showbiz magic, so the next time McConaughey decides to spoil his beauty by droppin 100 pounds to play some Dallas hustler tell him to not bother! I'm not impressed!

Blofeld really blows his badass credential by allowing a Christmas tree to be prominently displayed in his lair, though in his defense it can be construed as a ruse, lulling his vixens into thinking they are getting legit Xmas presents and not diabolical biological time bomb jammy stains.

Savalas blathers some nonsense about fertility and making dollas, then shows Bond his lackey, dead of course, as virtually anyone who ever assists Bond winds up dying. Down with the British!

Of course Savalas is going to promptly kill Bond too, since he has no qualms about killing and 00 is of no use to him...oh wait he mutters something about Bond helping convince the world leaders he means what he says, which is ridiculous. Who would ever doubt Savalas?

Since Telly is a busy man with money to make and worlds to destroy, after some repartee with Bond he locks him...well "lock" might be too strong a word, since he actually puts him in a room with an opening! It's the ski gondola engine room or something and it actually has open air! Are you sure this was the best place to imprison a secret agent, Telly? You'd make a terrible warden.

Shockingly Bond escapes, then skis away, though at this point I must commend Telly's henchmen who notice immediately and give chase. A futile gesture of course as Lazenby predates Lane Meyer in the awesome Better Off Dead by having the hero ski on one ski! Leave it to Savage Steve Holland to one-up Bond however by replacing Spectre agents with a demented paper boy and an evil bro named Roy Stalin.

Bond gets away, but then incredibly hides like a puss, even looking all scared as he cowers at an ice rink. Would Connery ever demean himself like that? Not likely! He would karate chop the rink itself 'til he got some cubes for his drink, then smash the glass in the face of any challenger.

Lazenby however requires Rigg to rescue him, and the pair hop in a car and careen away, with Bond urging her repeatedly to drive into crowds and put innocent civilians at great risk. The man is a menace and I encourage Interpol to arrest him!

After eluding the pursuers, Bond and Rigg hide in some Swiss dude's barn and he proposes to her. Umm Bond...you know she's crazy, right? Worse still she might be over 30.

Before he can enjoy his honeymoon, Savalas and the boys are back and...oh crap not another ski chase! They try to spice this one up by having a guy minced in a snow chopper but they've already broken Einsenstein's first rule of cinema, one ski chase per movie.

Thankfully Savalas brings the skiing to a close with a well-timed avalanche and steals away with Rigg, which is the most implausible thing in the movie so far. The man had a harem of international hotties under his hypnotic control for months and now he's ready to link up with a demented chick? I don't buy it!

Bond teams up with his new pal, mafia kingpin, and together they launch a helicopter attack on Telly's mountain lair. It's the usual nonsense spiced up with a badass scene in which a scientist throws a beaker of acid at Bond, but only succeeds in melting a glass door somewhat. How awesome would it have been if he had struck Lazenby in the face and abruptly ended the Bond franchise right then and there? I bet Blofeld would have given him a promotion and a raise and they would have had many laughs about it while counting their money and sipping drinks in Tahiti. "All my henchmen with their guns and it's a fucking nerd with some acid who nails that English fuck! I can't believe it."

I digress...Draco bashes his daughter right in her fucking face to shut her up, and it's played for laughs. Those hippies in the 60's! They blow the place to bits while Savalas escapes in a bobsled, and we've officially taken this mountain shit too far. Curling, ski chases galore, and now a bobsled? Hello, what's this? Telly keeps a spare grenade in his bobsled for just such emergencies. I'll allow it.

On second thought, the bobsled chase might be longer than the previous two ski chases combined. How fucking long is this track? Who is steering these fucking sleds? Telly winds up stuck in a tree and Lazenby quips, "he's branched off," while somewhere Roger Moore chuckles and calls him a wanker.

A St. Bernard shows up to add to the mountain stereotype bonanza and functioning alcoholic Bond demands some brandy. Moesha!!

He probably needs many a drink as when next we see him he's getting married! O' happy union of British government forces and criminal syndicates. The 1% isn't even trying to hide it in this one! Where is the Red Bridgade when you need it? Strike!!

Daddy dearest offers his daughter some advice as rock solid as the fist he hit her with earlier: "Obey your husband in all things." If I'm reading between the lines correctly, he's practically demanding she give him head on demand, which is perverse if you think about it, and I have.

Moneypenny is patronized and denigrated when Bond condescends to throw her his hat as he runs off with a younger and hotter(?) broad. Chin up, Moneypenny! Only a matter of time before Blofed exacts his revenge with a pretty sweet cliffside drive by, having his haus frau unleash a burst from a grease gun before speeding away.

Luckily for the newlyweds the shots seemed to miss and Rigg celebrates by dropping her face into Bond's lap for a little road head. Oh... hello what this? That's not road head, she's dead. Deader than Lazenby's sorry ass career!

It's at this moment the first cop in the movie appears, which is kind of incredible considering the level of public violence we've been subjected too in the two hours prior. We are living in a police state, don't let this flick fool you! The budget must have been strapped at this point 'cause copper doesn't even get to utter a line, just looks on in silence as Bond cradles his dead wife and says, "We have all the time in the world."

It's actually a tender moment but totally not true and a bit of a downer. I wonder what that portly cop was thinking as he watched this.

The most sinister thing about this flick is the hauntingly awful Christmas carol that can be heard while Jimmy Bond is cowering at the rink. Do you know how Xmas trees are made? Of course I fucking do, in China! They're made with slave wages by the 99 percent, who are being crushed by the the elites and corporate criminals Bond fights for. Where is my kerosene?? Burn everything!!