You’re a Miserable, Gutless Bastard, Charlie Brown.

You’re a Miserable, Gutless Bastard, Charlie Brown.

Let’s get one thing out of the way right now: Charlie Brown is a piece of shit. Stay with me here.

All our lives, we’re trained to be endeared to this lovable loser. Never getting the football, psychotically pining after the little red headed girl, and basically letting the world down. Why?


The other children are right to hate him and ostracize him. That bald-headed little mongoloid child is a harbinger that even the simplest task can and will be fucked up. And yet every Christmas, there he is…snuggled right between the boozy, suicidal ideation-meets- “awe shucks” greatness of “It’s a Wonderful Life” and the comfortably numb heroin nod of “A Christmas Story” sits Charlie fucking Brown.

Why are we celebrating this little cretin? Everywhere he goes, misery is soon to follow. Let’s take a look at Christmases most reviled character

You’re a  portrait of failure, Charlie Brown.

People seem to love Charlie Brown because of his neurosis. Never able to win, continually getting the shit end of the stick, and just keeping his head down and mumbling about it to no one in particular. All the while, he never makes any sort of meaningful attempt to change those aspects and become a better person.

I’m reminded of the phrase “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”


If you knew this person in real life you would hate them.  I’m convinced Charlie Brown’s parents speak perfect English and simply adopt their trombone-speak whenever he enters a room because the the mere thought of having to talk to the walking reminder of their failings as parents is too much to bear.

You had one job to do, Charlie Brown.


It’s common knowledge that Brown was nothing more than a puppet director for the play. Everyone knows better by this point to entrust him with the heavy lifting on anything. So when he tries and assert some authority by suggesting incorporating a Christmas tree into the production, he’s met with a “yeah, good, great, go.” The stage needs a set piece, and purchasing a tree is something the stupidest amongst us can do. As an added bonus, it keeps him out of the way so the Lucy can try and salvage this garbage fire of a musical.

And you know what he does? The exact opposite of what any right-thinking person would do. At this point it’s really a wonder the other children don’t go all Lord of The Flies and smash his head open with a rock.



He is risen, Charlie Brown.

So the play has been effectively ruined. The children can barely contain their rage against him and storm off. Left with his proverbial dick in hand, how can this whole debacle be salvaged?

Well, it can’t.

Sensing the moment is right, that weirdo Linus jumps into the spotlight to deliver a rambling tirade about the one thing no one wants to think about on Christmas—Jesus.


Gone are the wishful thoughts of xbox, holiday bonuses, and the improbable chance of vehicles with huge red bows waiting in your driveway. Now we’re all left to contemplate the mysteries of the blood of the lamb washing away the sins of man. Thanks, Chuck.

It’s a never ending cycle of horror, Charlie Brown.

If it were just a Christmas-themed abomination that was brought to our screens each year, that would be almost forgivable. But it never ends. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Valentine’s Day (multiple times), Easter,  Arbor Day, New Years, even the Super Bowl. Every high holiday is given the Schulz shit-shine of anxiety, depression, and failure. As our titular character would say, “Good. Grief.”