By DANNY GALLAGHER

Despite the rumors, Christmas did not kill me.

Like all of them, the holidays are a red and green blur in my mind caused by a sugar imbalance brought on an exorbitant amount of fried foods, beer and my grandmother's nutcluster surprise, which the United Nations needs to classify as a weapon of mass destruction.

I'd love to be able to tell you about the wacky hijinks of my hysterical dysfunctional family (who I've resorted to calling "hysfunctional" since "dysterical" sounds like some kind of colon disease), but I really can't remember much of it. The bits and pieces are still there. There's enough to file a statement with the police. But one thing that sticks out in my mind, which is why my life is pathetic as it is, are the movies.

Every Christmas, my family watches the same movies over and over and over until the holiday season loses more meaning than the term "compassionate conservative" at a pro-death penalty rally.

They aren't bad movies. We don't sit around the family television in gaudy homemade sweaters in front of a roaring fire and watch "Ernest Saves Christmas" because I would've dove into the fireplace to avoid watching it another year.

It's the perennial classics that get pushed on the public like "candy crack" every holiday season because they know we'll watch them. And we should watch them because they convey certain feelings about the holiday season that we sometimes fail to realize on our own. It also makes for a perfect excuse for not talking to relatives who carry pictures of their last gall bladder operation in their wallets.

The first times I remember watching them, they were excellent. But these days, even though the quality is still there and their familiarity is comforting, they aren't as fresh as they once were and if someone changed them ever so slightly just for the holidays, maybe they'd be easier to watch.

The obvious example is the Frank Capra classic, "It's a Wonderful Life." It's a timeless story about a small town man with big time dreams who ends up stuck in his hometown of Bedford Falls helping those in need with his savings and loan business, which he inherited suddenly from his father, who realizes in his most desperate hour that kindness, not cash, makes a man a true success.

My family has "It's a Wonderful Life" on VHS, DVD and those old, giant, plastic laserdiscs that could bludgeon lions and we watch every one of them. NBC also owns the TV rights to the film and they show it around the holidays but usually on the Friday or Saturday night before Christmas since regular TV viewing audiences don't have the mental capacity to handle a black and white movie without spraining their thumbs to flip away from it.

But the movie itself has grown on me over the years and I'm afraid it will one day grow big enough to consume my entire body in one giant gulp. There's nothing wrong with the story, the acting or the movie itself, it's just become predictable because I've seen it so many times. Just one year, I'd like someone from Paramount to mix it up, maybe digitally insert a flame thrower for Bert the cop when he's shooting at the non-existent George.

Then there's "A Christmas Story." Now I realize I'm treading on very treacherous terrain by trashing this holiday classic, but put down the torches and pitchforks and hear me out. Yes, it's funny, it's frigging hilarious. Darren McGavin who plays "The Old Man" who battles daily with the family furnace and can mumble seven curse words at once should get a lifetime achievement award for his performance in this movie. Everything about it is great. Anyone who doesn't laugh at this movie should get a CAT scan immediately.

But either TNT or TBS, which are owned by the Ted Turner media empire (motto: we colorize movies so you don't have to color them with crayons on your TV screen), literally shows the movie over and over for 24 straight hours on Christmas Day. The movie ends, the credits roll, there's a commercial and the movie starts all over again. Apparently, Turner is not only a multibillionaire with acres of his own land, a news empire he can twist for his own interests and plans to enslave all of humanity, but he's also dyslexic.

Either that or he has a thing for Ralphie's mom and, hey, who doesn't it? "Oh fudge" indeed.

Finally, we have a Christmas movie (or should I say movies) that is sure to keep me off Santa's nice list for another year - "A Christmas Carol." Again, here's another timeless holiday classic that teaches us an important lesson about the true meaning of the Christmas season, but has been remade and redone in so many different forms that trying to watch them with the same exuberance year after year is like trying to get just a little bit excited about your monthly rectal exam.

The only version that's any fun to watch is "Scrooged," a funny up-to-date retelling of the "Christmas Carol" story by Charles Dickens starring Bill Murray and written by Mitch Glazer and "National Lampoon" alum Michael O'Donoghue. My favorite parts are Murray's scenes with the Ghost of Christmas Present in the form a very violent pixy played by Carol Kane, who slaps Murray around in every conceivable way, which felt particularly gratifying this year after having to watch "Garfield: The Movie" in theaters twice last summer.

I don't know, maybe I shouldn't complain about something so insignificant in connection with the bigger picture. Sure, they're the same movies but at least they get us away from our hectic lives and together as a family for one time during the year.

But couldn't we watch "Evil Dead II" just once at Christmas time?

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©2005 by Danny Gallagher