Not long ago, a reader wrote asking about a column of mine from last year that detailed how much I hate “Love Actually,” the wretched holiday classic about how fat-shaming, stalking and marrying your hot maid is romantic.

Well, I’m back to talk smack about holiday entertainment — specifically, 1964′s stop-motion animation special “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” I’m quite fond of the nostalgia of it, the old-timey singalong songs and an emo elf who just wants to go into dentistry. What I dislike is the shockingly non-cheerful message it carries: If you bully someone relentlessly, you can still ask them to bail you out when you need them.

Bah, humbug.

Almost every single person and reindeer the titular sparkle-snouted sweetheart encounters — from his dad, to his coach, to Santa himself — rejects Rudolph because of a condition he was born with. In my book, this is called discrimination, but apparently the North Pole is shockingly lacking in equity and accessibility legislation.

Still, in the midst of one devastating snowstorm, Rudolph’s supposed to overlook a lifetime of abuse and risk his life saving Christmas. He’s a better person than me, because I’d have told Santa to guide his own damn sleigh tonight and hung out in the cave with Hermey the Misfit Elf, Yukon Cornelius and that cute little fawn, Clarice. Red nose out.

Maybe I take this personally, because as a woman — and especially as a Black woman — I’m expected to suck up all the insults and indignities of the world before rallying at the last minute to rescue everybody else. Kid was on his own, for so much of his life, and he’s only heroic when he’s useful. I wonder what the kids the movie was made for are supposed to be getting from it. Forgiveness? Selfless service? The importance of being a useful doormat?

You know the story: Little Rudolph is born to Donner, one of Santa’s reindeer, and his wife, Mrs. Donner, who doesn’t have another name. Moments after birth, the kid’s nose starts shining. Donner’s like, “Shame to the family!” and Mrs. Donner literally says they’ll “simply have to learn to overlook it.” That’s your baby, lady! How rude.

Santa’s visit makes it even worse, because he basically says, “Yeah, your kid’s weird,” and pronounces Rudolph will never make the sleigh team. He’s a day old and already unemployable. Still, Donner decides everything will be OK if they can hide Rudolph’s nose and make him “normal.” This works until he goes to the Reindeer Games and meets the aforementioned Clarice. She tells Rudolph he’s cute, which makes him fly into the air and lose his fake nose. Whoops.

The guys cheering him seconds earlier are suddenly screaming “Get away from me!” and Coach Comet, one of his dad’s friends, tells Donner he should be ashamed and assures the other kids Rudolph will no longer be allowed to join in any reindeer games. Clarice’s dad forbids Rudolph from speaking to her. Cue the sad ’80s teen movie montage.

A more self-aware reindeer may have thrown hooves, or at least told everyone to stick their games where his nose don’t shine. But Rudolph hasn’t had therapy, so he runs away in despair and meets up with future dentist elf Hermey and overconfident prospector Cornelius. The trio wind up among other rejects, the misbegotten playthings of the Island of Misfit Toys.

But ever the selfless little softy, Rudolph heads off on his own, lest his bright nose attract the attention of the fearsome Bumble, the Abominable Snow Monster. He’s brave, but his stoicism is not good for self-preservation.

Thus our hero wanders the icy land alone, like Moses in the desert. By the time he makes it back to Christmastown, he’s all grown up, the town jerks are still calling him Neon Nose, and his now remorseful parents are gone, having ventured out with Clarice to find him. Santa tells Rudolph his sleigh won’t fly if Donner doesn’t come back. Instead of saying, “Sucks to be you,” Rudolph finds Cornelius and Hermey, helps free his parents and love interest from the snow monster and brings everyone home.

Because of course he does.

Sigh.

Once they’re back, it’s all hunky-dory for about 30 seconds until a blizzard blows in and Santa cancels Christmas. As everyone is standing around bereft, Rudolph’s nose starts to glow. At first Santa’s like, “Not now, you flashy weirdo,” but then realizes how he could use this kid he’s been so mean to. This symbol of shame is now beautiful, and Santa tells Rudolph he’s going to lead the team.

Hold up.

Up to this point, Rudolph has established himself as a nice guy, so it would be out of character to scream, “Enjoy disappointing the children of the world, dude!” If I had written the script, there would have at least been one line where he said, “Look, I just want to tell you how much I was wounded by the scorn of the town for my physical appearance, but I’m willing to be the bigger person. My agent, Cornelius, will be in touch about my fee.”

Fat chance. Rudolph accepts the role, and he and the other reindeer with normal, non-helpful noses are off to save the day. You know the rest. The toys get delivered and suddenly our boy’s a star.

It’s a good message to teach kids they can overcome adversity, but I’ve always thought “Rudolph” skips the important step of everybody being really, really sorry and then cutting him a check for his pain and suffering. You can forgive your bullies, but it’s OK if you keep your light — both inner and the one on your face — for those who really love you.

And honestly, Santa, the jury’s still out.