Happy 13th of Friday folks! Keep your rabbits’ feetsies handy.

The third Friday the 13th of the year.  Lucky us!

I should celebrate by watching Friday the 13th Part 3, the original final chapter that didn’t manage to end it all.  This bad boy knocked ET from the top of the box office and introduced us to the hockey mask.  A dumpy alien with a big head and a speech problem can’t handle Jason.  Not even.

The cinema gem has teens and bikers.  I could bust out the 3D glasses that came with my TV and put a mask on the dog.  Have a disco movie party.

It’s got a good beat; you can dance to it – like you’re hanging from a barn by a noose.

Did you really think that would work, Chris?  We forgive you.  Why don’t you take a relaxing paddle in the canoe.

On the other hand, I am still behind on my Nano writing.  I should probably just pop a beer and get on that.

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Trick or treat, mofos?

I’m betting you want both.  That’s the sort of folks you are.

I don’t blame you.

I got my pumpkins done, my zombie dance cookies made, I bought all the candy in candyland and I’m settled in front of a football game.

You can bet I’ll watch “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” after the Georgia Bulldogs manage to lose in some frightfully awful way.  Then I’ll watch some horrible horror movie while I sip a beer.

I haven’t decided what stupid move that will be.  I just can’t plan that far ahead.

Speaking of planning, I need to get my ass in gear for Nanowrimo.  Day one is looming.

What am I doing for Halloween? Oh, just hanging out.

Frick and frack, at your service.

Don’t disturb us, we’re deep into Netflix and chill(ed beer).

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Home Movie (2008), a movie about a home

The thing about home movies is that nobody wants to watch them.  I don’t even want to watch my own recordings.  I make them so that someone in the far future will get a headache trying to find meaning in the meaninglessness of them.

Home Movie is a found footage film.  I’m not one of those wankers who goes on and on about it being a dead form of horror.  Bad writing, stale stories and bad movie-making make bad movies.

This one wasn’t even the worst of a bad lot.  It’s no great shakes, don’t get me wrong.

One of the problems with something purporting to be home movies is that, if done well, it must by nature be unwatchable.  If the actors are good enough to portray non-actors poorly mugging for a camera, it emulates a home movie pretty well.  Those very same home movies we can’t be arsed to watch.

Adding in some asshole children doesn’t really mitigate.

Children don’t scare me.  I spend a lot of time horsing around with children.  What I know about them is that they are weak, frail, they cry a lot and they really don’t know that much.

In the end, it’s a tale told without ambition and with little fuss.

The couple’s relationship is mildly engaging.  We see their frustrations, their history and their resolution.

And just in time, because we know how it will end from the beginning of the film.  It might be a depressing story informing us that neither faith nor science will save us in the end or it might be about the impact of watching too much staticky television.  Or the ills of the parents falling heavily upon the children and then rebounding right back in the parents’ faces with the force of a child’s enthusiasm for swinging a baseball bat.  Whatever it was, it was.  We knew it would be.

The Man in the Closet, who you might miss mention of if you were getting coffee, could be anything you want it to be.  Other than an actual man in the closet, of course.  That would have been a hoot.  I was rooting for the ice cream man, who, having become an economic victim to healthy eating and warehouse grocery stores, is now homeless and lives in various children’s closets.  Plying them pied-piper like with Mickey Mouse bars and bomb pops.

To the film’s credit, the parents knew the inevitability of it all too, even if they didn’t completely understand why and didn’t want to admit it.

Other points in favor:  the couple is handsome on-screen, camera twitch was at a minimum for this type of film, there was no horrifyingly awful musical score, we aren’t really left wondering at the end (though, I suppose interpretations may vary, mine is correct, as you might expect).

The parents got what they deserved.  As nice as they seemed, they didn’t help those hellions and they did the dog no favors by keeping it around even after the cat got it.

When the credits roll, it’s a relief.

Would I recommend?  That depends.  Most people will find nothing of value here.  As a genre devotee, I enjoyed it for what it was.  You have to go in without high expectations.  I’ve seen far, far worse.

The lack of spookiness will probably rub a lot of horror fans the wrong way.  The gore is minimized.  It’s not original.  The family’s last name is Poe, which I found lame and slightly annoying.

Man, the negatives really pile up when you think about it.  Maybe I should have the movie committed.  Like those parents should have done with their demon brats.

Ah, hindsight, always late to the party and carting in a box of wine like you’re our savior.



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Scream Season

October blew in and Chicago got chilly, wet and windy.  No surprise.  Crazy weather is a must for the season.

To celebrate, I watched the entire first season of MTV’s Scream.

I had forgotten the show was even a thing until I read a nonsensical rant decrying Fox’s new show Scream Queens and claiming it was a failed attempt to be Scream.  Scream Queens is nothing of the sort.

Scream Queens is smart and funny.  It’s supposed to be funny.  If this fact somehow zoomed past you, you probably say “I don’t get it” an awful lot.  I know damn well you don’t know what a dugong is.

Scream was…OK.  Nowhere near as clever as the first Scream movie, but it has moments.  For ten episodes, just moments isn’t enough for me.  That might be harsh.  I did keep watching.  I just never felt truly hooked.

The characters are likable enough.  Not likable enough that I don’t want them killed, but likable.  Not adorably sinful like Stu from the original Scream movie.  He was a hoot.  What we get is a reworking of Stu as played by the 2015 version of teen Matt Dillon, Tom Maden.

It’s not the actor’s fault. The whole cast of Scream does what they can with what they’ve got to work with.  It’s just uneven.  Is it serious? It certainly acts like it, despite the half-hearted jokes and gags.

Not likable like frat king Chad Radwell.  I want to be Chad Radwell’s bro.  He’s got it goin’ awn.

“I do love you. I’d just love you a lot more if other people loved you too.”

The two shows shouldn’t even be compared.  They are very different shows, even though both shows have a bunch of attractive, surprisingly intelligent, but nonetheless dimwitted, youths being stalked by a killer in a plastic mask.

Don’t let that fool you.  They are going for different vibes and, to a degree, each achieves its goal.

Both shows are full of teens from rich families who have seemingly zero supervision.  It is easier to brush that off in the farce, especially as it happens on a college campus.

Is it really so easy for a high school girl to buy enough booze for a house party from the local liquor store?  In a small town?  When her father is the mayor?  And there is a serial killer scare?  I guess so.  We had to do a lot of hard, sneaky business to get hold of a few Old Style cases and some skunk weed.  Times have changed, I suppose.

I’m not sure I would have stuck with Scream without the binge-watching factor.  This isn’t saying much.  I have a hard time keeping up with anything that airs once a week.  However, I will offer that I didn’t care who done it.  Not in the slightest.

The obvious choice obviously wasn’t the killer.  The other obvious choice obviously was and it was even more obvious that there was a pair at work.  The fact that the Scream movie had two killers put that possibility in your mind from the outset.  The events unfolding onscreen just proved the point.

Scream Queens is a big, fat joke.  A hilarious joke about mass murderers on a ridiculous farce of a college campus full of suitably clichéd college students, administration and the best damn security woman on the planet.

You can’t help but laugh at this crew.  If you don’t, it’s because you’re a humorless bastard and I don’t want to have tea and crumpets with you until you rectify that.

The FOX show pushes some envelopes.  I didn’t know you could get away with using “spit roasted” and “Eiffel towered” on normal television.  Those are terms that you’ll have to look up on your own because I’m too chaste to describe such salacious acts.  Either that or I just want you to spend time on Urban Dictionary because it’ll put hair on your chest.  I won’t even mention the use of “gash” or “blumpkin”.  Wait, did I just mention those?  Sorry.

Other than a horribly shoehorned appearance by Ariana Grande, the cast of Scream Queens is stellar.  That would almost be enough, but the use and timing of the music is perfect and it makes me laugh.  At least so far.

I’m sure I’ll give the next season of Scream a go.  I can’t wait for the next episode of Scream Queens.

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Happy SuperBloodMoon Apocalypse, people!

Someone will just have to describe it to Russia, since they’ll miss this one.  Otherwise they’ll have to watch a live stream of the big shebang.

That ancient guy Joel didn’t have much to say as far as bible shite goes, but what he did say was all apocalypse all the time.  Y’all know that’s the stuff I like best.

Joel 2:31 [from the King James joint]

The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and the terrible day of the LORD come.

That’s some heavy action.

I could discuss the great tetrad of lunar eclipses that happened in 1493, which I recall as being vaguely apocalyptic.  Suffice it to say that, while rare, these things happen.

Why are They so stuck on these predictable and understood astrological events? Why not Tuesday?  I will gladly pay you an apocalypse on Tuesday for a super blood moon eclipse today.

I assume they’re busy on Tuesday.  Nobody wants to miss the pilots of Grandfathered and The Grinder.  Not even the Supreme Alien.

I’m pretty sure the Great And Powerful meant it completely literally.  The cause of the moon being covered in blood will, of course, be a vile experiment gone wrong in the Nazi Moon Base.  Those jerks can’t hide that kind of disaster on the dark side forever.

Many Shuvs and Zuuls will know what it is to be roasted in the depths of the Slor on that day, I can tell you!

Why should we trust this Joel guy anyway?  I would just as soon ask Moon Bloodgood when the crap is gonna hit the fan.  She was there when the skies fell, after all.

If the apocalypse doesn’t happen, can I have your left-over moon cakes?

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Evidence of possible alien Atlantean ghost god entity captured on video

Or it’s a bear.

OK, it’s a freaking bear.

Can you douchey news outlets stop with the bullshit and the clickbait headlines?

Yeah, I didn’t think you could, but I thought it was my duty to ask.

The US Fish and Wildlife Service has this cool creek cam.  We get to see an unsuspecting salmon (are any salmon suspicious at all?) get grabbed by a great big bear claw (not the pastry, though that would be seriously spooky).

The idiotic headline “Mystery creature catches salmon: So what is it?” is followed with “Debate rages over the strange creature that pounces on this unsuspecting fish”.  This is absurd and disingenuous.

a lively discussion on Facebook ensued, consisting mainly of people attempting to identify the assailant with most guessing that it was a bear while others suggested a bird of prey or even Bigfoot.

It seems that the Fish and Wildlife Service believe the creature to be a bear as the footage is captioned ‘this video gives us paws!’.

Well, who are we to believe?  Facebook yahoos or The US Fish and Wildlife Service?

I guess I will just grin and bear it.  The video (originally posted to US Fish and Wildlife Service farcebook page) is still cool as a mountain stream…or an Icicle Creek.  The “mysterious creature” is quite clearly a bear paw.  Perhaps Sasquatch used a dead bear’s paw so as not to be seen on video.  They’re sneaky sneaky like that.

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The silver eel flies at dusk when the wine rains from moody barrels


I have no idea.

I get a ton of weird spam.  Yes, you are correct, all spam is weird to some degree.  Even the stuff that comes in a can.

My Mail thinks this is Junk.  My Mail is a miserable, humorless bastard.

You might not want to read this snippet of mail I received.  I’m pretty sure the words themselves are a virus.  If you read them, your mind will be tainted.

Fortunately, my mind was already tainted.  So I’m no worse for wear.

Brianna, please tell me what I’m supposed to do with the Black Drops.  I’m running out of Time.

Click image for larger version…if you dare.

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Sometimes they die, but always They Live

Another famous person died recently.  This still happens.  It’s almost as if they’re just like regular citizens.

In particular, Rowdy Roddy Piper went on to bouncier wrestling rings or flouncier kilts or wherever dead entertainment wrestling villains go when they leave this mortal coil.

I’ll admit that I watched wrestling when I was a very wee child cheering for the Von Erich brothers (that’s a dark tale we don’t need to get into).  Back when Friday Night Videos was still a thing.  That was like a thousand and one years ago.  We only had a few channels to choose from back in the dark ages.  You took what you could get.

A muscle-bound wrestler in a kilt, Cyndi Lauper videos and Eddie Murphy in a Gumby costume.  Come on feel the noise.

Unlike a lot of the people who make a living talking about sports and entertainment, I won’t pretend the man’s passing breaks me up.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t wish ill on the guy.  I just didn’t know him.  Not personally.  We all go eventually.  Until they come up with something creepy to prevent it.

However, this does give me another opportunity to bring up They Live.  It’s one of those classically awful films up there with Troll 2.

Who would dream up a movie centered around trying to put sunglasses over Meg Foster’s eyes?  Pure insanity.

It’s not worth a damn, but it is worth a few good beers, some pizza and a few pals that know how to relish really shitty films.

He’s dead, but “They Live” will never pass into that good night.

You still don’t get it, do ya boy?

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He’s a monster, all right

I’m about to watch the season finale of Penny Dreadful.  I’ve enjoyed this season, for the most part.  For the most part being more than half of it, at the least.

I’ve even come to enjoy Dorian Gray, who I disdained during the first season.  He was less fop and more fiend this season.  I do so love a good fiend.

I still can’t stand John Clare, the creation of Dr. Frankenstein.  Or as the blind gal calls him, Mistah Clayahhhh.  She isn’t the only one tired of Mr. Clare’s crappy poetics.

Oh, how we get it Mr. Clare.  You poor monster.  Forever waffling between being a new god among men and being just another emo twat without anybody to love him.  Perhaps it isn’t your ugly mug, Mr. Clare.  Just perhaps it’s because you are truly dreadful company.  Not even worth the penny, I would say.

I didn’t think his bride would be worse.  She is.  Brona Croft.  A fittingly shitty name for a shitty, undead hooker.  Mr. Clare can have her.  I hope they elope.  Soon.

Of course, that won’t happen.  The gloomy Mr. Clare couldn’t accept such happiness.  I don’t think he was built for it.  Even the undead hooker seems sketchy on him.  Can’t blame her, though they were made for each other.  Two pissants in a pot, if you ask me.

The fast on the draw American wolf.  The gloriously wicked Madame Kali and her naked, bald witches.  Dr. Frankenstein, as long as he’s high as shit.  Miss Ives and Sir Malcolm, stiff upper lift – stiffer jab.  Especially Sembene, the enigmatic, former slave-trading African.  Even Ferdinand Lyle, the great, gay, hilariously lispy oopma loompa of the story.  These are the characters for me.

I’m sure it will all work out.  Won’t it, mum?

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It’s a space station

There is something magickal about a mid-day moon hung in a clear, blue sky.

It feels like being in a sci-fi movie.  Not a Syfy movie, where an ill-mannered mad scientist unleashes a dragonfly-shark hybrid in the park and everyone gets mauled.  A sci-fi movie on some other planet that looks quite a bit like ours, but where moons are always in the sky.  Usually more than one.  A movie where an ill-mannered mad scientist is planning to blow up one of those moons because its ethereal beauty offends her.  And because she can.  She just built the coolest anti-moon weapon and has been dying to try it out anyway.

Maybe that should be my July Camp Nanowrimo plot.  I can’t decide on anything else.

We should probably stop her before all hell breaks loose.  Or we could just sit in the grass and admire the nice day before it rains again.  Because the actual movie I’m in involves flooding and tornadoes and wicked lightning that don’t need no man.

Ain’t she purdy?

Maybe it’s just a hologram!


Hang onto your cell phones, things are going to get bumpy.

Posted in Chaos and Creation, Personal Commentary | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments