I fucking hate the "holiday season". This should be of no surprise to anyone who knows me even casually.
I find Thanksgiving especially loathesome, because in addition to the lack of gifts, there was always the mandatory church-going followed by the long-ass trip to my uncle's house for dinner. Sure, there's the meal, but at some point grandma always had to make sure that we were aware of her mortality and declare how happy she was that we could all be here for one more year while weeping.
For a while, The Iron Giant was the best part of Thanksgiving. Hell, it was the only good part of Thanksgiving. Cartoon Network would air it all day long in a continuous loop. You could catch part of it in the morning, another segment after church, and watch the whole thing in it's last airing of the night when you got home from your awkward dinner. It was the soothing medicated balm that calmed all the irritations of the day. You could pour yourself the first super-boozy eggnog of the season and be swept away by the film's unending charm.
Don't get me wrong, I had my doubts: Jennifer fucking Aniston, Vin goddamn Diesel, Harry Connick Jr. But then I remembered: Brad Bird. He of The Simpsons, The Incredibles, and Ratatouille. Watch and behold:
Now, go out and get yourself the special edition DVD.
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