Day Twelve (Fashionably Late!)

The Halloween stuff has finally come down from the attic. Soon, this will probably be nothing but dusty things from the early 90s and an opinion piece on my most hated nemesis (who just so happens to be a Halloween decoration).

But while I was playing Howard Carter, I unearthed something that's still possibly current. So before I devolve into boring you with conjuring up memories of things from Halloweens past, let's talk Living Dead Dolls.

These dolls are produced by Mezco, and are apparently entering into their sixteenth series. I'm far behind the curve, as the ones I'm talking about here are apparently from the fifth series. I got them on huge markdown from Media Play when they were going out of business, and from the looks of it, I'm not missing out on much.


First off we have Siren. Her little coffin box claims she was a singer that got her mouth sewn shut. Fair enough. The head sculpt and paint job on the eyes are pretty nifty, so points to that.


Next we have Dahlia here. Obviously based on the famed Black Dahlia murder, it's a pretty nice looking piece. Y'know... nice looking piece of a doll based on a famous unsolved murder. Creepy-cool looking, again nice paint work on the face, and they even painted skin discoloration around the torso staples. Finally, a doll that allows me to judge such a category!


Finally, we have the two-fer of Zombini and Viv. They were a two-pack, and as such came in a cozy, doublewide coffin box (not pictured). Zombini with the cape and bitchin' Karnak turban is our unscrupulous, evil magician, while Viv there with the horrible, jowly Maggie Gyllenhal-esque cheeks is his lovely(?) yet doomed assistant. I gotta say, I do like Viv's look, but the face... Oh, I can't get over that awful face. She also has five teeth in that top row, which are sticking out like she tucked popsicle sticks up there to pretend she was a walrus or something. But, she has a gimmick, hopefully to take away from her...unfortunate appearance.


Yes, you've seen it here first. She splits in half. Ho ho ho ho, 'Viv' . We see what you did there. According to the website, she is the only one that has this noble distinction.

At first glance, these things seem kind of neat. Cool paint jobs, interesting concept, so how do they keep these ideas fresh after so many series?

The fact is, from what I've seen, they really don't. Every doll body is the same, save for different paint application, or the occassional doo-dad, like Dahlia's stomach staples. And if you look back at their faces, those are the only four possible heads for these dolls. Most of it's all in the paint, wardrobe/headwear, and hair styling. Considering these things run full-priced at $26 a pop, you'd think there'd be a bit more variety. Looking through their archives, I'd say 80% of the dolls all have that Zombini head, just painted up differently. Whatever, I'm sure the Goth kiddies are eating them up anyway.

If you think they're pretty cool (which, admittedly some of them are), I'd say check on eBay for some of the older ones, or try Mezco's website if the current ones tickle your fancy. If these dolls are up your alley, I'd say pick and choose a couple of the ones that really stand out to you, because a lot of them are just... meh. They're definitely cool for the season though, or if you can pull off a year-round murderous dolls motif.

Day Eleven (seriously late!)

Well, since it’s the weekend, I figured I would knock off yesterday’s article and today’s at a decent hour, then be free to watch Hockey and have those constant moments of terror where I doze off during the P-Coast game, only to be jolted awake by the horn when the home team scores a goal.

Alas, I was struck down by a mysterious illness. Chills, the shakes, couldn’t keep anything down, excruciating back pain, high fever. It could only mean one thing. Something laid eggs in my spine while I was asleep, and they’ll soon hatch and bring ruin to our world. Apologies in advance for being the unwitting incubator to the destroyers of our civilization. It could happen to anyone.

Since I’m afraid I don’t have much time left before these things burst forth from my vertebrae and overtake you all, let’s talk miscellaneous things that don’t deserve their own articles.


First up, we have Devil Ducks. I have a small time duck collection, stemming from an old high-school in-joke, which resulted in me getting ducks from friends at every minor holiday. These two in question came from a Valentine’s care pack and a graduation gift throw-in. I’m not sure what sort of dark obsession Satan has with ducks, but hey, if it’s what he wants to staff his legion of Hell with, well, who are we to question him? Our svelte member of the pair looks like something you’d see tattooed on the forearm of some Rockabilly chick. Below the flaming dice, but right above the cherries. And, for some unknown reason, not only does he have devil horns, but cat ears as well. I don’t know what that’s all about. However, if you put him in water, rather than float, he just kind of tips over onto his side. Duck-cat-devil hybrid? Oh Satan, you dirty perv. Fatsy on the left not only floats majestically, it’s also a water squirter. Skinny bitch takes the loss this time.


Next is monster finger puppets. These things run the gamut from threatening to goofy, and crappy to surprisingly well made. Here to showcase are one of each from the surprisingly well made category. First is your typical, threateningly looming monster. You’ll be fine unless he can actually manage to grab you with those ridiculously undersized hands of his. Run if you can, since those wings look vestigial if anything, and the fact he’s got no legs. Points off for slopping your hair dye around too. Threat level? Low to moderate.


Now here’s Loomy’s… retarded step-sibling. Spaced out buck-teeth, arms down in a decidedly non-threatening manner, and wide, dull eyes going in different directions. This is the monster you don’t need to worry about. He is definitely more afraid of you than you are of him. I can also guarantee he can’t say a sentence without peppering it with ‘hurf’ and ‘durf’. Aww, Loomy’s just all worked up over people trying to bully the poor guy.


All I can really think to do with these guys is to slip ‘em on and do a low-budget production of Of Mice and Men. Loomy plays George, and Dum-Dum there is definitely Lenny.

You can find these guys, their brethren, and about a million various similar ones by googling monster finger puppets. Meatier digits need not apply, however. So, if you were looking for an excuse to get in shape, look no further. Finger puppets won’t fit over fat fingers.


Finally, my favored son of the lot. The ghost keychain I took from the University bookstore. Now, I don’t generally condone theft, however, it was December, and this little scamp was still priced at a decidedly ‘non-sale’ five dollars. If they hadn’t moved two months after the fact, they probably weren’t going to move ever. So I gave the little guy a good home and a new purpose. Scaring unwary bandits away from my keys.

A little boring looking? Maybe. But he’s got that scalloped bottom, and innocent, ‘not that scary for a ghost’ charm about him. Oh, and let’s not overlook the fact that he was there for me at a time I desperately needed a new keychain. And, he has a gimmick! Press the button on his back, and…


Whoa! Not only does he blind you with his strobe eyes, he also does that warbling Ooooooooo-oooooooooo-Ooooooooo-oooooooo ghost noise that a lot of Halloween ‘push button for sound’ toys incorporate. I love this guy.

Hopefully I'll get today's real article done soon. No promises.

Day Ten

Hockey season started, and as such the inevitable happened and I’m falling behind. So, I’m rallying the ol’ college spirit and doing a late-night write up. And, much like college, I’m sure nobody is actually reading this, so I’ll be arbitrarily graded. A+ to me, chumps. Or, the countdown will continue this trend, until we get days 15-31 all posted on October 31st. Marathoning so I can still get credit for everything due by the end of the semester.

So, in the vein of haphazardly slapping things together for any kind of result, let’s talk Mr. Potato Head ‘Trick Or Tater’.

This guy is like any other old Mr. Potato Head. You get your potato, you get your parts, and you get to play at proctologist by shoving all the currently unused parts up his ass. Then you get to play at bewildered emergency room technician when you later have to excavate a myriad of parts from his ass. Googly eyes, a set of dentures and a classy hat? It’s not my business to judge what sick perversions you’re into Mr. Potato Head, but still.

This guy continues Playskool’s current trend of giving the old classic new pieces and cutesy pun names to tie in with everything and anything. Optimash Prime? Darth Tater? Indiana Spud? Pure gold in my book (expect Indiana Spud. That one’s reaching). Ages Two and Up? Hell yeah, that’s me! That’s me by twenty years.


At first glance, our MPH looks like a guy that went out to get his Halloween costume day-of, and ended up having to rummage through the gutted, barren shelves to slap together a semblance of a costume. Googly eyes? Mickey Mouse gloves? Elf ears? Those plastic vampire fangs? Clown nose? Bowler hat? Mrs. Potato Head’s garish little Pumpkin handbag? He’s like some interdimensional IRS agent.

I did a similar last minute throw-together one year. Only instead of a costume store, I tried my luck on a Hot Topic sale rack, next door to the gutted costume place. Unlike our friend, my gamble played off, and I managed to slap together a really decent Jem costume.

The detail is pretty cool for such a minimalist toy. The one ear has a worm in it, and the eyes glow in the dark. And it’s not that weak kind-of glow either. It’s that sort of gritty-feeling plastic that you know is going to light up the room like Three Mile Island is going down on your desk. My hair’s been falling out in clumps since I opened this guy, but damn it, it’s worth it for that glow.



And what’s this? A handkerchief for when my radiation poisoning causes me to start bleeding from every pore? No. It’s much more than that.


It’s a ghost costume! The eye and hat pegs hold it in place, and it drapes majestically over our starchy spook. It certainly explains why a potato dressing up as a vampire needs a bowler hat, and it reminds me of that scene from Beetlejuice, where Allen and Barbara are trying to scare away the tenants but can’t be any scarier than bedsheet ghosts.

This guy… wow. I’m at a loss for words. I want to throw a giant fancy dress dinner party and have this guy as the center piece. Something about the ghost costume just warms my heart. Even if he does go from ‘throwing random pieces together at the last minute’ to ‘not really even trying’.

And I know I was all gung-ho about Boo’s glow in the dark capabilities in that entry. But now I have to say Boo who? I mean look at this!

Glorious.

Day Nine

T'is the season for shlocky horror films to come out and cash in on one's compulsive need to seek out something scary. Since Saw 20 hasn't hit theaters yet, and it doesn't look like Rob Zombie is pumping out another unbearable, ultra-violent flick, that whittles us down to one contestant. In the spirit of enlightenment, let's talk Quarantine.

This movie, directed by John Erick Dowdle, is actually a remake of a Spanish film, REC, which came out in November of last year. America crapping up a well-recieved foreign horror film? Do tell. But this time, they didn't even wait a whole year to do it. It premieres in theaters tomorrow, and if my guess holds any water, you'll probably be able to see it in the cheap shows by the 31st. But don't quote me on that, since people flock to October horror movies like college girls to the sexy costume aisle.

It's one of those 'the camera is a character too!' type movies, where a character is filming the whole thing. Unfortunately, Scott, our camera man, is either a temp or the worst professional cameraman in history, as even while standing still, you're treated to a nauseating cornucopia of blurry lack of focus, shaky cam, and constant sweeping around without giving viewers much time to digest what they're seeing. When you're running for your life, this is understandable. But even when spying something horrible from behind a barrier one room over, Scott flails like an epileptic watching an episode of Pokemon. On the plus side of things, this style affords for some genuinely creepy jumps scares and glimpses that leave you wondering 'what the Hell was that?' Though at the same time, he has no problem with masterfully zooming in on a crisp, clear shot of something exceptionally gory.

We start out with a rather mundane scene of Angela and Scott working on a news bit about the local LA fire station. They're covering the night shift with them, and after about fifteen minutes of 'charming' sexual harassment, they get a call to an apartment building, dealing with a woman's screams.Needless to say, two gory attacks and three bullets later, something seriously wrong is obviously going down. Oh, guys, after the first time a bloody, foaming at the mouth old lady attacks someone, you have to figure it's time to take her down.

In the commotion, they find out they're not allowed out of the building. But why? Here we meet Laurence, our typical angry black police officer, prone to get shovy and to pull his gun on people, Jake (or Jack, hard to recall) the fireman. Oh, and a whole bunch of apartment residents, whose names aren't important because none of them really have any role aside from 'body count'. We do have the vet that, being the only guy with a legit medical background suddenly becomes Mr. medical expert. And the uppity drunk that does not give a shit, and keeps on telling us that. Everybody else is just parroting ‘Why won’t they let us out?!’ ‘What’s going on?!’ ‘Why can’t we leave?’ Too many characters that don’t strike a chord with anybody, and you won’t even remember who they were, or care when they’re picked off.

When the Center for Disease Control guys finally come around, that’s when you start to get a little bit of an inkling of what is going on, followed closely by a shift from ‘boring! People are sloooooooowly getting sicker’ to a pastiche of that stairwell chase scene from 28 Days Later, only filmed in blurry first person. Like the director realized they'd wasted most of the movie and had to cram more creatures in there, pronto!

The film also succeeds in nailing just about every horror movie cliché imaginable.
-Whoops, this person is showing the same signs as that infected person that fucked up our shit. Better bring them down with the other survivors!
-Screaming female protagonist who won’t. stop. Screaming.
-“Were you bitten?” “…n-no.”
And this one doesn’t work as a bullet point, so we’re just going to explain it. One tenant turns out to be infected, bites a family member and disappears upstairs. A few survivors go after it, and rather than shooting them in the head because they’re obviously infected and there is no cure… well, I’m sure we can all guess where this is going.

In the jarring shift from ‘kind of unsettling, yet boring’ to ‘it’s dark, we’re running, and everybody is very suddenly turning out to be infected’ (never mind the fact that the original infected ones took hours of getting sicker and sicker) makes the jerky-cam effects much worse, and while the first few instances of ‘what was that bloody thing I kind-of saw?’ are creepy, after about the tenth one, you get frustrated with it.

Also, the dialogue in the latter half of the movie basically ends up being nothing but ‘Eaaaaaaaagh! Keep the light on me! Keep the light on me!’ Toward the end of it, the camera crew might have made some discovery about a possible cause of the virus, however, Scott’s shaky camera work and inability to focus leave us in the dark as to what the documents and headlines they find actually say. “Are you seeing this?” No Scott, we aren’t. I think I saw the word suspected, but it’s kind of hard to be sure of that for some reason.

While Quarantine definitely had its moments, they were rather far between. The Spanish version was much more well-done (so if you can bear subtitles or dubbing, I’d recommend that one over this), plot and terror-wise. Among the four of us that saw it, we gave it a unanimous score of two out of five. Also, three of us had headaches, and the person driving had a wicked case of vertigo for about fifteen minutes. If you go see this, sit far back from the screen. If movies like Cloverfield or Blair Witch gave you trouble, you might want to think twice. Even if they didn't, you might want to still pack some Advil.

If you’re jonesing for something spooky to see in theaters, this has some good jump-scares, but it’s nothing to write home to mom about. Cheap show or dvd would probably be your best bet.

As my brother would kindly sum up for us: Shitty camera. Main chick won't stop screaming.

That right there, guys? That is pure poetry.

Day Eight

Today’s a bit of an in-between day for me. I did all the article for pictures I uploaded, so now I need to go and take more pictures for future articles. In the meantime, let’s have ourselves a little horror history lesson, and take a look at a silent film actor whose roles continue to leave an impression to this day. Not only a great actor, but also a great make-up artist, some of his on-screen creations are still extremely iconic to this day, including one of Universal’s monsters. So, let’s talk Lon Chaney.


If you look at any of his films, you can immediately see he was a master at pantomime and facial expressions. What most people don’t know is that this skill is the result of his being a CODA (child of Deaf adults). Yes, his parents were both Deaf, and he used sign language to communicate with them. In sign language, facial expression plays a big role for context and grammatical markers, and telling stories through sign and movement is a big part of Deaf culture even to this day. In the world of silent films, where there was no use of vocals to provide context, Chaney’s movements and expressions made him stand out. He played mostly villains and con men, and was able to give added life to a number of macabre, wretched characters. He was such a versatile actor, he earned the title Man of 1000 Faces.

He got his start in movies in 1913, with a role in the short film Poor Jake’s Demise. Between then and his untimely death in 1930, he racked up more than 150 films to his name, and became a box office smash, second only to Charlie Chaplin. In fact, much like Chaplin, he was a hold-out, reluctant to embrace the new era of talkies. He felt that his main talents were in pantomime and his skill with make-up. Despite making only one talkie film, a 1930 remake of 1925’s The Unholy Three (he happened to star in both), he was able to showcase his extensive vocal talents by doing five voices in the film.

Though he wasn’t strictly a horror movie actor, he is probably best known for his chilling roles, some of which will be covered soon. He liked to play ‘lowly’ roles, outsiders. He was quoted as saying “I wanted to remind people that the lowest types of humanity may have within them the capacity for supreme self-sacrifice. The dwarfed, misshapen beggar of the streets may have the noblest ideals.” Basically, if you weren’t overcome with unending terror, he wanted you to feel for these guys.

Now that I’m done probably boring you half to death, here’s some of the more bizarre, iconic characters he’s been.


The Hunchback Of Notre Dame
Chaney designed the Quasimodo make-up himself, and it’s been said that the make-up covering his right eye left him with vision problems for the rest of his life, and that the hump he wore to look suitably deformed weighed in the area of fifty pounds. Not really a horror story, but Jesus, look at that make-up job. The opening scene of him moving down the wall of the cathedral and taunting guards is a showcase of his great movement and pantomime skills as well. Basically, Quasimodo is creepy looking and misunderstood, he saves Esmerelda, the hot gypsy lady a few times, ends up dying to save her life, but nobody really cares, because the hot soldier she likes shows up to give her a little loving. Poor Quasi bleeds to death from a stab wound, and the Priest is like ‘Oh. Oh, damn.’


The Phantom of The Opera
Again, another showing of Chaney’s make-up expertise. And to get his nose to look so cadaverous, he tied piano wire around his face to temper his nose into that sort of snout-like upturn. The Phantom’s look still unnerves me to this day, and is the most faithful reproduction of the Phantom’s described appearance from the original novel, that of a ‘living skeleton’. And, unlike that mincing musical version of the Phantom, this guy had his whole face messed up. A quarter mask? Pfft. You can still probably bag a hot lady with ¾ good looks. Chaney’s Phantom had a full mask and for a reason. I still say that after Christine unmasks the Phantom, they needed a title card that just says Holy Shit. Because it’s what we all thought when we first saw him. Don’t even try to claim otherwise.


London After Midnight
Lon Chaney is like the original Eddie Murphy in this film, playing both the Scotland Yard inspector and the vampire. Again, he did his own make-up. The picture may not be large enough to show his teeth, but Christ, there’s like a million tiny Chiclet teeth crammed in there. With googly eyes. Which were achieved through wire fastenings worn like monocles. Viddy well, Lon. The film was lost in an MGM studio fire in 1967, though in 2002 an approximation of the film was attempted by cramming together parts of the script, production stills, and title cards to give us the dialogue. Since there’s no chance we’ll ever see the film, here’s a spoiler: The vampire was really just a disguise for his Scotland Yard detective. Back in the 20s, a lot of horror elements seem to be toned down, and given explanations like ‘Oh yeah, that vampire? Psh. Disguise.’

The Unknown
This one and the above were both directed by Tod Browning (probably best remembered for directing Freaks). In this film, Chaney plays circus knife-thrower Alonzo the Armless. Why does he have that name? Welp, he apparently has no arms and throws the knives with his feet. He actually worked with a real armless knife-thrower stand-in, Paul Desmuke (in the above picture, that’s Desmuke’s foot holding the coffee cup, since he was used to manipulate things with his legs while Chaney was in frame) . He strikes up a friendship with the owner’s daughter, Nanon, who is comfortable with him (and shuns the Strongman’s attentions) because she can’t stand to be touched by a man, and since Alonzo has no arms, there we go! But the truth is, Alonzo is a conman and imposter, and keeps his arms bound to his torso the whole time.

However, when his secret is revealed, he kills the circus owner, which Nanon witnesses. But she only sees the killer has two thumbs on his right hand, and since Alonzo is believed to be armless, he gets a free pass on being investigated. After the murder, he and Nanon grow closer, but he figures she won’t love him, since he still has arms (oh, and not to mention that ‘killed her dad’ thing). So, he does the rational thing and secretly gets them amputated. Now really armless and scot-free, he returns to Nanon… only to find out she’s suddenly over her fear of men touching her, and is in love with the Strongman. Alonzo flips the fuck out (understandably) since, had he just waited a little, he could have just hacked off that extra thumb. But now crazy and armless, he figures it’s time to get revenge, Chaney style.


The Penalty
Lon Chaney plays Blizzard, a gangster who much like Alonzo, was driven crazy-go-nuts over double limb amputation. Both legs were amputated when he was a boy, and to achieve this effect, Chaney wore extremely uncomfortable leg straps to bind his legs in place. As a crime lord, he has all sorts of means to gain his revenge, and tracks down the doctor who amputated his legs. His master plan? Kidnap the doctor’s daughter’s fiancé, amputate his legs, and take them for himself. Forget the near impossibility of such a feat, he’s gonna go for it. Knowing Chaney’s characters, he probably ends up dying, but only after he makes us feel for him. And anyway, crazy guy wanting to amputate your legs and take them for himself? Oh no, no, no. I never once thought of such a thing happening. But now I'm paranoid as Hell.


The Wolfman
Just testing you guys. This was Lon Chaney, Jr. But both Lon Chaney, and Lon Chaney Jr. got name dropped in Werewolves of London, so…

Unfortunately, Lon Chaney died of throat cancer in 1930, most likely caused by his heavy smoking habit. Godspeed, Lon. You taught us to never pull the mask off of somebody, and never trust double amputees.

And since apparently, a lot of people on the internet are afraid of clowns (It wasn’t scary people, get over it), be careful if you go image searching for Lon Chaney. He did a few roles as clowns. Black and white photos of clowns. Maybe I'll post some sometime.

Day Seven

The subject of today’s article is another newcomer to the Halloween scene, though he’s made a bit of a name for himself in the realm of overdone internet pop-culture reference. In fact, I think he’s so far removed from that title that most have forgotten his former rise to power and reign as a hot topic of many unfunny memes. Nobody knows what he is or where he came from. Okay, well, technically, he came from Japan, but horrible-yet-endearing monsters are pretty much their forte.

Ladies and gents, let’s talk Domo (I’ve heard him called Domokun, but I guess, in the ol’ US of A, we’re not down with honorifics, so he’s just plain Domo).

My vague understanding of Domo is that he was or is the mascot for Japan’s NHK television station. Well-respected over there, he made the inevitable jump to the American consciousness, where he was found to be endearing to most of us 'gaijin' idiots. Whatever the case, alls I know is that if I met a Domo in any other form than fuzzy, oddly cute plush, I’m sure it’d be terrifying. Look at those teeth, and that horrible, gaping red maw! Take your arm off up to the elbow in one bite, I’d bet.

I’m sure we can all guess where I picked these guys up at by now. Lemme sit you down and tell you about Domo’s Halloween spokesmodelling. He’s lending his charmingly enraged visage to all manner of items. Candy that looks like it might not be so great. A Halloween advent calendar. Candy holders. A piñata. And finally, plushes.

I’m sure the target audience of these items are children, and those weird kids you were in high school with. You know exactly who I’m talking about. The ones that tried to act like they were an anime character, doing that ‘hand behind their head when they laughed/were embarrassed’ thing, wore DBZ shirts every day, put random Japanese words in their sentences, thinking they were totally cooler than everybody else by saying something like ‘Sensei wanted us to dissect a neko in biology class today!’. I think the term is ‘Wapanese’? White kid wanting desperately to be Japanese.

God, those kids were lame. And usually lacking in hygiene.

Despite my proud standing as neither child nor ‘one of those kids from highschool’ I was ensorcelled by these charming brutes. They came in four different styles. There was a fifth one, but nobody goes in to Halloween wondering ‘Where can I get a plain, naked Domo?’.


First up is Dracula. He’s got it all… except pants. That crazy Hippie medallion Dracula usually has, the widow’s peak, a cape. Hell, if you look close, you can see the incisors are actually elongated. Pretty neat, but something about him makes me think ‘Chippendales dancer with a cape’ more than ‘Dracula’.


Next is Pumpkin. It’s like a velour baby costume on Domo, and perfectly frames those Hellish teeth. Points off for the bizarre limb proportions. Poor guy needs a Frankenstein boot for that left foot. And his arms speak of years playing slots non-stop, certain that it’ll only take one more quarter to win big! One more! One more. One more.... Oh, Domo, don’t tell me the Pumpkin getup is your charming spin on wearing a barrel. Well, I mean, I would loan you ten bucks for a pair of pants, but you’ve fooled me before. Go see if Dracula can lend you his cape to cover your shame.


Frankenstein(‘s monster) here didn’t bother to dress up nicely for his photo op, instead going with the tattered, breezy clothing favored by the hobos he’s most likely made up of. It would also explain the constant stink of malt liquor and urine hanging around him. Those are the glazed helpless eyes of someone who has hit the skids in life, and finds his only solace in a Colt 45. Or, a hopeless monster made up of an amalgamation of corpses, that knows even his tailor made corpse-parts girlfriend doesn’t want him. Cheer up guy, at least you got some sweet-ass neck bolts!


Finally, the Devil. With his horns, tail, cape, and… Jesus, what is this, four-for-four on no pants?! At this point I’d even settle for hot shorts, Underoos, or even culottes. Though, based on what little I’ve seen of Japan’s offerings that have come state-side, pants appear to be banned. But only on the women-folk. So either you’re an unabashed lower-half nudist, or what I previously assumed was a gender neutral mascot is actually female.

Truly mind-bending. What’s more mind-bending is the price of these guys. I’ll be the first to admit these things cost more than they’re worth, but again, my crippling addiction to Halloween is unsatable. If you do decide you need to give up all worldly possessions and your first-born for one, make sure you pick through them and pick a winner. Their quality may fluctuate wildly in regards to eye-placement, limb proportion, shape and accoutrement quality.

Take it easy folks, I gotta go make these guys some loin cloths before I get accused of allowing public indecency.

Day Six

No time to be trite tonight folks, I want to get this in by midnight and keep my streak going. I'd be sooner, but got sidelined playing Silent Hill: Homecoming, so I could unlock the laser pistol for my less monster-beating-talented brother. Such is life. I'm told I'm under suspicion of being a spam blog. Is it because of my constant use of the word 'Halloween'? My occasional f-bomb? My obnoxious writing style? I don't know.

Regardless, let's talk Bleeding Brains candles.

I found these guys on markdown after last Halloween, but they might still be around this year. If they are, Wal-Mart would be your best bet at scaring (har har har) a couple of them up.

There's a choice of two, both classics of the season. The skull, and the zombie. Now, I don't know if a skull at this point of decay can have a brain, technically, let alone on that'll bleed, but let's look past that, and toward how good these things look for a $3.00 candle.


Dag, yo. These are conversation pieces of the highest calibur. Hell, I'd probably end up leaving these to somebody in my will, but only because I own nothing of value or real substance. Great nephew Derrick may get my bowl of melded together hard candies, but Lady the third? She's getting these things, assuming decades in my attic won't leave them melted into Escher-esque puddles of colorful wax.

So, where's the bleeding?


See these eye socket bore-holes? Welp, when you start burning these guys, their delicious red center melts down and sluices through these strategically placed tunnels. The skull has them in the eyes and behind those God-like sculpted cheekbones. The zombie has them in the eyes, ears, and a massive one leading down into the mouth. So you can live out your gory, headshot zombie-killing fantasies with little more than a lighter, and of course a plate to catch all the melted wax.

If I could have gotten a decent picture of the boxes, I would have shown the results in all their waxen, bloody glory. As it is, I have this thing against burning cool-looking novelty candles, so the real fun is going to have to wait unless I procure a couple more of these things. But damn, do they look sweet all by themselves. These guys got mantle space hands down.

Sorry if you're dissapointed about no in-action shots. I know I am. But at least I got the Laser Pistol. Pew! Pew! Pew!