OK, we are being way too hard on Moonracer. He’s running a charity on what appears to be completely his own money. He rescues the toys. He provides them with “jobs.” He ultimately gives his morose playthings a chance for a second life. These token jobs may be demeaning, but at least it gives the toys something-- a purpose if you will. Perhaps the benevolent lion should also offer the misfit toys the counselling they so desperately need, but he may be operating on a budget.
Individual accounts were subject to considerable prompting by investigators, and can’t necessarily be considered reliable. What all seem to agree on is that the nightly mane-combing duty was an hours-long, exhausting affair. Some have said that a hierarchical system of favoritism permeated the island, but even this complaint could’ve just been a sour-grapes grumbling from toys who tended toward resentful malcontentedness.
“Can you show me on the doll wear the lion touched you?”
“But, I’m a doll, this too sureal!”
Technically, Santa does the steering. That’s what reins are for. So Rudolph just has to glow and pull. I know, all the effort and training and extensive testing process just to be a pre-industrialization engine.
It’s understandable, though. It’s hard to fly if you can’t even jump into the air.
Those who failed to make the grade ended up cleaning out the stables or - far riskier - selling insurance to polar bears.
The really persuasive ones could sell ice to… oh, never mind.
Is there a harder group to get into then Santa’s delivery team? Rudolph has been the only deer to crack the squad in these past many many years. Seems like a fool’s dream Comet is offering up to all those gullible young deer. “You all want to pull Santa’s sleigh some day, so you must learn to fly!” Yeah, right.
Otherwise, the aviation skill seems sort of pointless for reindeer.
As to selling insurance to polar bears, the northern ursines don’t seem so much of a threat to the reindeer. Rudolph plays with a couple of young ones during the show, and all he gets is a stern lecture from an elder bear.
True, but some of us were taught by our fathers to leave some milk and cookies for Santa, and that Santa preferred a couple of shots of vodka mixed in. So, all it takes is one careless pass by a tippling St. Nick through a windmill farm, and suddenly the whole team’s in casts and on crutches, and you’re calling up the second squad.
True, but the risk of selling insurance to polar bears is not so much the danger of accidentally feeding one a foreleg while they’re signing the paperwork, it’s that polar bears, being naturally risk-seeking with their investments, are notoriously reluctant to consider any kind of insurance in their asset allocations. So it’s a tough way to, uh, make a buck, if you’ll pardon the expression. At least cleaning out the stalls provides a, uh, stable income. 
So this show ran Friday night, and I decided to watch it, since I hadn’t in a long time.
I just want to echo the observations before. Everyone is pretty much a dick. Santa is the dick-in-chief. You’d think the father of Christmas Spirit would display a bit more of it a bit more often.
I notice the first line of elves working on toys all look identical until we get to Hermey. Later we see a fat elf and a tall elf.
The food always looks atrocious. A purple steak, the same color as the plate, and even a purple apple.
Yukon Cornellius carries around a pistol but never thinks to use it on the “Bumble”. Must be because “Bumbles are bulletproof, don’t cha know?”
The first time the Abominble snowmonster wanders past Rudolph and Hermey, all we see is his legs, which are two huge pillars. Later, his legs are stubby short for his round body.
I also noticed the opening credits, when listing songs sung by Burl Ives, they messed up the typography and say they’re by “BURI IVES”.
Fireball, another reindeer kid, has hair. None of the other reindeer do, but he’s not isolated and picked on.
The bird that swims instead of flies gets thrown out of the sleigh without an umbrella-chute. And what’s with that, anyway? Santa usually makes stops and goes down the chimney to deliver toys, but apparently these misfit toys don’t rate first-rate treatment, they get dropped off the bus and hope they land somewhere useful. Methinks some misfit toys are going back to the island later.
All in all, it’s pretty dreadful.
To quote the great philosopher of our time, “with all these ball clubs flying around all season, don’t you think there would be a plane crash? … if you think about it: twenty-six teams, a hundred and sixty-two games a season, you’d think eventually an entire team would get wiped out.”
And yet, a beloved Christmas classic.
In that first elf workshop scene, the toys on the elf assembly line mostly appear to me to be railroad related. The swinging gate toy is kind of a mystery, but perhaps it is part of a train crossing or some such knickknack. However that knobbed cube thing being constructed by the elf sitting directly next to Hermie is a bizarre creation indeed. Hermie isn’t the only misfit toymaker needing a lecture from the boss.
All in all, I think we can pretty well tell which team of elves produced the train with the square wheels on its caboose.
It’s a radio, for talking to God!
That Yogi Berra sure is a pistol, eh?
That squirts jelly!
By the way, for all you youngsters out there, I will explain a joke from Burl Ives’ opening naration.
He looks over his shoulder and sees some seals juggling presents and says “Christmas Seals”.
All nice and happy, until they killed Osama Bin Laden, do NOT fuck with the Christmas SEALS.
Who says there’s only ever been one Comet? It seems impossible, as evidently only the bucks are taken for aerodraughting duty, and the average lifespan of a male reindeer is about 10 years. Since it takes at least 2 years to mature and master flying, and leaving at least the last year or so for retirement, the typical career for even a first round pick (so to speak) would be about 5-6 years, 7-8 at most.
So I figure “Comet” is the customary titular name to use for The Coach Of The Next Generation, and there’s an implied serial number denoting a specific tour of service. “You wouldn’t know to look at him, but old Jeremiah there pulled Santa’s sleigh for 4 years back in the day, he was Blixem LXVIII for 3 years and made it up to Dasher LXI before blowing out his rear left ankle on a slick slate roof in Framingham, MA, poor guy.”
Why would “Comet” be a title rather than a name? The show is just a snapshot in time. Comet is the coach at that time, not necessarily for eternity.
Because “Comet” was first documented to be on the team in 1822. Now, I can accept the Santa is effectively immortal (as a “right jolly old elf” and we know that elves can live for historical ages, as documetned by Professor Tolkien) but reindeer just do not live that long.
L.A. area Dopers should be aware that the Troubies Christmas show this year is “Rudolph the Red-Nosed ReinDOORS.” We caught it last night, and it was as good as ever. We almost got crushed by a giant Bumble foot, Sam the Snowman nicknamed the wife “Low Crotch Lady”(you had to be there), and poor little Nathan almost got flashed by King Moonracer, who had to do an entire scene with a misfit toy holding on to the back of his loincloth to keep it from falling. Total chaos and a magical evening all around. You’d be amazed how well Doors songs fit the story.