"The writers behind the hit series Deadpool present the sad, funny, and true story of Santa Claus — after the apocalypse!"
That was enough to make me click the download button and eagerly await to start reading right away.
The thing is, I forgot that I used to love Deadpool.
Deadpool was about using all the comic book tropes, all the sexisms, racism, idiotic heroics, maudlin dramatics, then breaking the 4th wall and going, "see how absurdly wrong this is?"
Deadpool could behave like a neckbeard basement dweller when around the ladies, but it was always made perfectly clear that his behaviour was not okay. He could do pretty fucked up things and we'd read them fully aware that he was not mentally healthy, and even he realised this and claimed it made no difference since it wasn't even real and he was a comic book character. All of it with the wittiest dialogue ever.
I don't begrudge success to worthy comics or any other medium - if it's good, the more people aware and buying it, the better! Alas, with success Deadpool stopped being about a disfigured man, battling cancer and mental illness, bringing up and breaking tropes, proclaiming his love for Bea Arthur, and switched to a dude making questionable jokes, with babes just fighting over each other for the dubious pleasure of his company.
Which is when I stopped reading it.
I forgot about all that, or I subconsciously hoped for a return of sanity within the insanity, so when I started reading The Last Christmas I was not ready for how ridiculously low grade it was.
It seriously is one dudebro joke gone way too long (they're all too long by their mere existence, but you know what I mean).
We start with a questionable montage about how human beings never got along featuring racist caricatures of Jewish and Arabic people.
Then comes the Apocalypse and toxic mutant making rain, but more importantly, Mrs. Claus, fulfilling the Disposable Woman trope, so Santa has an excuse for spiralling into alcoholism and suicide (hilarious, right?!).
But Santa can't kill himself if even one little boy or girl believes in his existence. One such boy continues to believe. So Santa decides to kill him.
Off he goes to meet the stereotypical white post-apocalyptic survivors.
The world may have ended, but ladies are still there mainly for decoration, reacting with pin-up poses to dire news of betrayal in this dystopian hell.
But wait, another incredibly racist stereotype shows up to save the day in the form of a Japanese guy personifying the trope of All Asians Know Martial Arts.
Cue more gore, alcoholism, racism, ageism, sexist jokes and then "happy" ending.
Though not really.
Well, I guess it is a happy ending because I don't have to go on reading.