Swintontide

In the spirit of the season, I cheerfully submit observations from myself, Nuke and Rok (collectively known as Nujorok) on this year’s White House Christmas decorations:

“I feel like the concept is ‘Overly Contoured Tilda Swinton.'”

“It’s more ‘Russian Mail Order Bride Meets the Underground Railroad.’ Or, as Melania calls it, ‘Hope.'”

“Or The Beach, after Tilda almost shoots Leo DiCaprio, and all the happiness drains from her body as she is left alone…”

“It’s like Tilda Swinton exploded, and somebody went, ‘Well… what if we made trees out of it?'”

“Remember the time Tilda Swinton tied Jesus to a rock and shaved his lion’s mane? Yeah, that’s what I want Christmas to look like.”

“No, no. This is all wrong. I don’t want ‘festive.’ I want Tilda Swinton’s dreadlocks from that thinkpiece vampire movie. Why do I have to keep explaining Christmas to you people? Is it because you’re poor?”

“This is too blonde. I want only white, to represent the snow on the mountain on which Tilda Swinton abandoned Benedict Cumberbatch. It’s just not harsh enough.”

“You know the face Tilda makes in Constantine right after Keanu Reeves punches her, and she experiences pain for the first time? THAT. THAT RIGHT THERE IS CHRISTMAS.”

“In the Old Country, Tilda Swinton magically appears every Christmas Eve to give good children the gift of gender ambiguity.”

“And bad children get cast in Constantine 2.”

“Surprise! Krampus is actually Tilda Swinton. And I am OK with that.”

“Tilda Swinton is austere as the taiga. Unblemished and silent. And when a bird does dare to break that silence, she glances askance, and it falls dead under her gaze.”

“…”

“I’ve been drinking.”