Dorkgasm Gonzo Is God

            Let me start this review out in a typically sacrilegious fashion. Fuck Miracle On 34th Street. Fuck It’s A Wonderful Life. Hell, fuck even the venerated A Christmas Carol. These stories are imposters dressed in Santa-colored Glad bags. The Stupidest Angel, I say with no humor in my voice, is the Best. Christmas. Story. Ever. Period.

            Like many others, I stumbled onto this book as a pure accident. I was trolling the book stacks at the library one day and found it lovingly nestled in between some of the author’s books. Since I love a story about the idiotic things religion does, I picked up what I first thought would be a smart, zesty peck at Christianity. Fucking hell, I have never been so wrong before. The story starts out with put upon ex-wife Lena Marquez, who was formerly married to despicable town developer Dale Pearson. Lena is trying to scrounge up a few Christmas trees for the town’s Lonesome Christmas celebration, in which the folks of Pine Cove who have no one at home will flock to the church to hang out and hopefully get some nookie. No sooner than she picks out a tree and gets to digging, the landowner shows up, furious. Yep, Dale’s tree does not belong to Lena, and he starts what could have turned into a messy to-do. This was cut short by Lena lashing out with a shovel and downing the drunken Pearson, who was dressed as Santa for an office party.

            Meanwhile, archangel Raziel has a mission. This year, he has to grant the Christmas wish of a child. He picks Pine Cove to start and finds his target in little Josh Barker. Josh thinks that it was really Santa that was killed. Raziel asks him what his Christmas wish is, and wee Josh wants Santa to be alive so badly. Raziel grants this wish toot sweet and zooms off back to Heaven. Unfortunately, any fan of Moore’s work will know that Raziel tends to be a little light in the brain matter department. Simply put, the angel is a fucking dumbass. Not only does he revive Santa, but most of the rest of the graveyard, as well. As the undead begin to right themselves and bitch about being back among the living, the rest of the characters begin to show up. Town constable Theophilus Crowe is growing massive fields of weed. He’s a stoner of the highest order, and is growing weed for a mission I will leave secret. His beautiful wife Molly is a former action babe film star, who has had a bit of a mental issue where she actually thinks she is the character she played in her films, the Outland Warrior Babe. The book throws in pilot Tucker Case, whose pet is a talking fruit bat named Roberto. Case finds Lena with Dale’s corpse and begins to chat her up. He throws out a crap reason why he’s there, but he’s actually in the employ of the DEA to search out the growers of some huge fields of weed.

Confused, yet?

            Sooner or later, the now-reanimated corpses hit on the idea that they should be eating brains. With the Santa-fied Dale as their de-facto leader, they begin to march on the church, knowing full well that there are several morsels to be consumed therein. While Tucker, Lena, Theo, Molly, and Theo’s friend Gabe begin to set up the Lonesome Christmas celebration, something appears to be amiss. In an action packed finale aided by Roberto the bat and Raziel, who has been tasked to set everything right, the town’s residents precede to whomp some zombie ass. Well, kind of.

            Like I said at the beginning, this is my choice for Best Christmas Story ever. Every Christmas, the Jones family sits down to hear my dramatic reenactment of the whole story, from front to back. This has become a Jones family tradition, and I want to pass it along to you. Sure, zombies and fucktard angels have never made an appearance in Dickens or any Frank Capra films, they bloody well should. This story has Christmas Classic written all over it, and you would be a fucking douchebag if you don’t give it a shot. Come on, what the hell do you have to lose? Do you want to watch George Bailey hate himself and bitch to a newbie guardian angel, or read about a naked schitzo hacking through rotten flesh as an archangel watches over her and admires her tits? Hey, all I’m saying is you should choose but choose wisely. This story will bring entertainment, but those others will just give you a bad case of the shits. Seriously.