I do enjoy a good supervillain, and The Grinch has to come in among the first rank for Christmas antagonists. He's cunning, twisted, brilliant, sinister, mean...heck, there's a whole song cataloguing just what a rotten creep he is. When it comes to bad, he's not just good, he's grrrrreat! He's abusive to his dog, sneeringly cruel to small children, and his entire existence revolves around snuffing out to joyful holiday noise of those bothersome Whos down in Whoville.
(A brief aside: I've always wondered why he cherishes such loathing of the seemingly inoffensive Whos. My 8-year old has theorized that there was once a whole tribe of Grinches, who were hunted down by the Whos to produce the roast beast for their Christmas feast. Watch your friends and loved ones murdered, one each year, for the gustatory indulgence of the apparently affluent Whos, and see if your heart isn't three sizes too small after a while. The last of his kind, The Grinch's vendetta is a blood-soaked response to genocide.)
Still, Christmas is about forgiveness and redemption (see: Scrooge, Ebenezer), and The Grinch is the poster child for the animated set, a tableau onto which Dr. Seuss paints the timeless tale of spiritual growth fueled by that infectious holiday spirit. By the end of this morality play, we've got The Grinch at the head of the table, carving...a relative? (Here's where your theory breaks down, son.) Another Christmas curmudgeon is brought into the fold of love and happiness, and all is well.
I liked the green bastard better when he was a jerk.
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