Let's Talk...

Day Twelve (Fashionably Late!)

2008-10-13T18:49:00.004-04:00

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!)

2008-10-12T18:14:00.002-04:00

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

2008-10-11T02:07:00.002-04:00

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

2008-10-09T21:25:00.000-04:00

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

2008-10-08T23:18:00.001-04:00

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

2008-10-07T22:14:00.002-04:00

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

2008-10-06T23:34:00.001-04:00

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!

Day Five

2008-10-05T23:01:00.002-04:00

Alright folks, back again, and this time, let’s talk Fizz ‘n Find’s Trick-Or-Treat Surprise! I’m sure none of you out there have ever heard of Fizz ‘n Find, or their fine, mysterious product, but it’s basically one of those ‘mystery toys hidden inside something that dissolves in warm water’. Back in the eighties, we girls had those Magic Nursery dolls, where you’d dip the bib in water and find out if the doll was a girl or boy (and God help you if it was a boy. A lavender onesie? Sorry little girl, your kid’s full-blown gay!). Later on, there were figurines that came blind-boxed in a dissolvable garbage bag. Sewer Warriors or something. Those could lead to some heated exchanges with siblings, since some bags came with two figures in them instead of one. They were the kind of figures where you’d stand in the store and kind of weigh the package by hand before figuring, yeah, this thing is definitely heavy enough to have two guys in it. And oh, the soul-crushing sense of defeat when you would wind up with not only one figure, but one that you already had to boot.

So, the old dissolvable-mystery item is back in Halloween style, with the Trick-Or-Treat Surprise. This time, though, your figure is encased in a fizzing stone, wrapped to look like a Pumpkin. This was found in Target’s mysterious aisle endcap of Halloween goods, where anything and everything is $4.99. Our good buddy Starsong from a few entries back? $4.99. Will this fizzy bauble of mystery be worth that much? Doubtful. But they had me at ‘Glow-In-The-Dark’.

You have a chance of one of four different spooks. Boo, the ghost. Trick, the vampire. Treat, the hang-dog downtrodden Frankenstein’s monster. And finally, Wartsy, the witch. Since Boo is on the front of the package, he looks like the prize pig of the lot. Dear God please, don’t give me Wartsy.

And here it is, in its festive pumpkin shrink wrap. See that face? Thing’s just as expectant as we are to see what’s inside. So let’s get our warm water and satisfy our curiosity.

But first! Place your bets, guys. And no cheating to just look at the end of the article to see what I ended up with. Write it down or something. Boo, Trick, Treat, or Wartsy? The answer may astound you.

Aaaaaaand, we’re off! The stone smells like fruity soap, which may not be far from the truth. I remember getting a huge ball like this fizz-stone one Christmas from an aunt, and it was some sort of bath fizzy. Smelled very similar to this thing, but it didn’t bubble in such a sinister fashion. This fizz action is probably worth a buck in itself.

Just remember to leave plenty of room in your container for the hot, hot fizz-action to take place. Trust me on this one.

Here’s the figure emerging from his tomb. I see glow-in-the dark! Could it be…?

Ten minutes after first dropping this bad boy in the measuring cup, we have a winnah!

It’s Boo! Up yours, Wartsy.

He’s even articulated. He can swivel both arms, his head, and waist. Nice. We got the pick of the litter, and he can be put in a small variety of ‘spooky-arms’ poses. He’s a few inches tall, and looks like something out of a high-end Monster In My Pocket type dealie. And speaking of MIMP, I was going to make an entry about them, though I’m certain much better Halloween bloggers than I have already beaten me to the punch. Alas, it was not meant to be. A search turned up ours had been thrown out years ago. Though I did uncover a lone survivor, hidden amongst a box of my old Barbies. Oh, the indignity!

Check it. The blue one there is apparently called ‘Dryad’ (at least according to an extensive MIMP fansite). Despite his astounding tenacity of being the last MIMP to survive the depths of the basement, his measly 10 point value is no match for the fact Boo will glow after being left under a lamp for a while. Up yours, Dryad. Boo even does a better YMCA.

All in all, Boo’s just your run of the mill glowing figurine. All the excitement to be had rests in watching the thing fizz and dissolve, and the agonizing wait to see which one it is you’ve ended up with. Lots of people are suckers for an air of mystery around something. I know I am, anyway. Oh! And about the glowing…

Aww yeah. (God, what a terrible picture. Glow in the dark things are hard to photograph. Just like all ghosts)

Day Four

2008-10-04T21:44:00.002-04:00

Everybody knows Jones Soda is the authority for ridiculously flavored, ridiculously-priced holiday theme beverages. So, we’re going to talk about their little baby cans of syrupy death, right? Not today guys. We’ll get there, but first, I’d like to introduce you to some also-rans in the category. A couple of hot new upstarts trying to muscle their way into the seedy underbelly of the Halloween beverage market. Let’s talk Izze.

Izze is one of those high-end pops. In fact, they’re taking high end to a new, er, end and proclaiming themselves to be ‘pure fruit juice & sparkling water fortified with vitamins’. Like Pepsi Max, but more expensive, and you’ll probably see less fat women on motor scooters slamming these things as they trundle through Wal-Mart. I’m not sure where the discerning imbiber can find these regularly, but I once got one to wash down an eight dollar Chipotle with. So… ‘kind of pricey but worth it once in a while’ places, I’d venture.

Despite the appropriate colors, only one of these is Halloween flavored. We’ve got Halloween Blackberry. Blackberry even has their little schpiel seasoned up, with ‘We stay true to the fruit’ replaced with ‘nothing scary inside’, and suggesting we ‘dress up [our] ghoulish get together’ with the limited edition drink. I suppose once November hits, Halloween Blackberry will be gone for good. Sure, there’s probably ‘Sparkling Blackberry’ but screw that. And then there’s Sparkling Clementine. So, why is only one of them Halloweened up? It’s like they paired the plain one up with the Halloween one just so people would see black and orange and fall for their stupid… oh. Ohhhhhhh. Gotcha. Fool me once, Target…

Our special guest today is my Beijing Olympics mascot glass. Round of applause for Yingying, folks. She’s orange, so that means automatic draft into helping out the countdown. Just don’t look at her for too long. Or you’ll never be able to figure out if she has squinty, ‘racist Warner Bros. cartoon era' eyes and giant black cheek-spots, or tiny little eyebrows and giant, soulless wide-set eyes. It might not seem like a big deal, but- oh God help me, I don’t know. I just. Can’t. Tell. I haven’t slept in weeks, and I’m scared. Oh God, I’m so scared she’s going to suck out my soul with those cheek-eyes then use my shriveled heart as a shuttlecock.

Maybe an offering of Izze will appease my new lord and master? If not, then all hope for humanity is lost. We welcome the end of days with Sparkling Clementine.

Okay, that is orange-y. Clementine-y? I haven’t done a recent orange vs. Clementine taste test, and my sense of taste may still be off a little from my cold, but it seems a little bit sour, which isn’t really a complaint. Seems a little bland though, like something’s missing. Maybe the word ‘Halloween’ in the drink’s name? It leaves a weird, sort-of non-taste aftertaste in your mouth, which is baffling me. And the color makes it look like some horrible fluorescent urine sample. All in all, this makes me think of a fizzy, tastier version of Sunny Delight. Which, if my repressed memories of it hold true, was basically an oddly thick mixture that tasted like orange juice mixed with orange drink mixed with rat poison. Despite my less than glowing-sounding review, I like it. But it’s one of those ‘I like this, but there’s other flavors I’d like better’ kind of likes.

C’mon Halloween Blackberry! I swear to God, if you’re purple…

Oh. You are. Sigh. Regardless of this minor let-down, this one is pretty damn good. Very fruity, just the right amount of tartness to it, and it smells a lot better than the Clementine one to boot. It’s like a good version of that sparkling grape juice you’d get as a kid during holidays.

And now for the ultimate test: Halloween Clemberry. Halloween Blackentine? No, better stick with Clemberry. Blackentine sounds too much like a monstrous villain out of a 70s blaxploitation film. Blackula vs. Blackentine. Clemberry just sounds silly too though. Oddly enough, the color becomes an orange-purple. My bets were on brown, not this charming, rosy hue. The flavors actually balance pretty well together, and the Blackberry cancels out the Clementine’s weird sort-of aftertaste.

Finally, on to the talent portion of our competition. How well do they work as mixers? Grabbing my nearest moderately priced vodka, I put them to the test. In a surprising turn of events, Clementine is my winner, despite Blackberry being the clear favorite in the regular comparison. Orange did always work better than berry in mixed drinks anyway. With a little vodka, it was like a fizzy Screwdriver. If I had some tequila and grenadine, then we’d be in business.

Final verdict? Like I figured earlier, Izze is definitely one of those ‘kind of pricey but worth it once in a while’ things. Do they have that spark to greet us again next October? Should Yingying allows us to survive that long as mindless husks of what we once were, I’d keep a deadened, cataract-coated eye out for Blackberry. Excuse me, Halloween Blackberry.

Day Three

2008-10-03T21:30:00.002-04:00

Kids will buy any kind of shit you make flashy enough. You know who else will buy any kind of shit? People my age that remember things from their childhood that were cool. I know a lot of you in my age bracket went out and snapped up the re-released classic Transformers. You may stash Starscream away in the event you have a girl over, or ladies, you might pretend like that Strawberry Shortcake doll was left there by a kid you babysat as a favor to a friend, but I know the truth!

So in the spirit of seasonal items and things I remember having had as a kid, let’s talk My Little Pony. They’ve made a comeback as of late, I suppose, since the boxes cheerfully proclaim it to be their 25th anniversary. I suppose they were counting the down time too, because there was a stretch where my younger cousin had to be sated with my old ones from the basement. But they’re back and the same as ever, and if my cousin hadn’t outgrown these things finally, I’d be able to get her a brand-new one and finally win her back to my side after all those years of sneering derision over the ‘ones from the basement’. You couldn’t have any new ones because there weren’t any new ones. Jesus!

But there’s new ones now, so my misdirected rage can simmer on the back burner for a while now. But, sure, you can only churn out so many of these things before the bubbly surge of ‘Yay! Ponies!’ gives way to ‘meh’. So, you need a gimmick. Right? Right. San Diego Comic-Con has churned out a few superhero style ‘collectors’ edition’ ponies. Limited edition=must buy (and those SDCC ponies are cool looking). And what else is limited edition? Oh, just a few things that might only be around for one season…

And as we all figured out by now, that means Halloween My Little Pony. They’ve been around a few years, but not having a blog, I refrained from making such a purchase. But now I have a way to justify buying something I outgrew fifteen years ago because dammit, I have a reader base to keep informed (at least I like to pretend I do). Every year they churn out two ponies. And it seems like Hasbro is phoning it in these days.

This is our new buddy Starsong. She’s got wings. And a witch hat! I remember seeing these things in stores in previous years. I think there’s a witch one every year. The other pony was an orange one named ‘Scootaloo’, who was dressed up as a flower. A… oh, come on, that one’s not even an option for Halloween! Nobody dresses up as a flower by choice. You dress up as a flower when you’re the kid in the third grade play that can’t remember any lines or steps, so they slap a few petals on you and hope you just stand quietly at the back of the stage.

Needless to say, Scootaloo got a pass.

I see. She only dresses up as a witch. Must be a junior high Wiccan (*ba-dum-chssh*!). And by ‘friends’ you can bet your ass it’d be a group of ponies trick-or-treating in their appropriate costumes, with one dressed up as a flower lagging after them, her whines of ‘guuuuuuuys, come on! Wait up!’ going staunchly ignored.

With the hat removed, nothing really signifies her as in sync with the Halloween season. Purple? A lot of those ponies are purple. Pink and purple hair? Nuh-uh. Star tattoo on her ass? Paired with the hair, she’s gotta be emo. Probably only wearing that hat to be ‘ironic’ before going to listen to Modest Mouse. She didn’t even come with a comb. These fuckers always come with combs.

So, she’s a total lo… but wait! That hairline. That’s… My God, it’s a perfect, Bela- Lugosi-as-Dracula widow’s peak! That last paragraph? Strike it from the record. She still could have used a bat or pumpkin tattoo on her ass though. C’mon, pretty please?

And she has a little mark on one hoof of a hanger. According to the box, this means that her accessory is interchangeable with those of other ‘limited edition dress-up ponies’. Their tiny, malformed ears, and the fact that every other one of these ponies I’ve seen has had some sort of head piece on, can only mean that there’s some group of ponies with a ‘tiny ear gene’ that are so insecure about it, they go out, get matching hanger tattoos, and wear sassy hats, acting like it’s totally their way of being unique, and not just because they’re ashamed of people staring at their ears.

As luck, and by ‘luck’, I mean an Easter care pack from my Mom, would have it, I happen to have Starsong’s Easter-obsessed fellow member of the Dress-Up Gang. But if the Witch hat wasn’t exactly Halloween enough, what good will bunny ears be?

Holy shit. This is some My Little Pony meets Donnie Darko shit right here. Or, y’know, Starsong as the Bunny Man of Fairfax urban legend, because under that benign, unflinching smile, she’s fucking insane.

You know, I think all Halloween versions of regular kids’ toys need to have out-of-place accessories. A Halloween pony with a witch hat? Well, that’s okay, I guess. A Halloween pony with bunny ears and no explanation as to why? Pure terror.

I don’t know what’s coming up tomorrow. I’ll have time to write something though.

Day Two

2008-10-02T17:10:00.002-04:00

What’s basically the number one thing that goes hand in hand with the season? No, it’s not pumpkins… or haunted houses… or costumes… or… wait, what? College parties where you get to feel up a drunk chick dressed as slutty Batman? How can that possibly be in the running for ‘number one thing’? …Oh, well, I guess I see your point. But I mentioned it yesterday! It’s candy, goddamn it! The answer was candy. Good lord, you people…

Anyways, let’s talk candy.

Friend to all, except maybe those crybaby diabetics, candy gets a cool new image to project, claiming to all willing to listen that hey, they’re hip, they’re down with Halloween. And, if you want to be cool like them, you’ll buy some fucking candy.

But before you give into peer pressure, and do something regrettable like buy a bag of Twizzlers just because there’s a spider web in one corner, take a step back and consider ‘will this be Halloweeny on the inside?’. Survey says ‘no’. They’ll still be red and have the consistency of chewing on a candle. And don’t try and bring up the hypothetical scenario entailing a bag of black licorice Twizzlers with a spider web on them. They don’t count because nobody buys them.

But some candies don’t insult our intelligence. Some realize that a pallet swap for the season will sate us. Others may even go that crazy, delicious extra mile to make sure we got the most out of this, spooky packaging or not.

Bachelor number one here is M&M’s offering. This is their ‘Cool Ghoul’s mix’, and while I’d like to think the name is a nice tip of the hat to Zacherle, I’m probably over-thinking the matter. In reality, I’m sure some glossy eyed marketing guy had a sudden revelation and shouted ‘ghoul rhymes with cool!’. Although, the Blue M&M there is kind of shitting on our groove here by dressing up as big fat nothing. On the plain bag, the Red one had the sense to pander to his audience and put on a Flasher-Dracula costume.

I give this a thumbs up, because even though the taste is exactly the same, c’mon, look at those colors. Where else can you get neon green, dusky purple and black M&Ms, without having to shell out $13 a pound for them? Cool ghoul indeed.

Next is Snoballs. Though technically more in the ballpark of cake than candy, they were in a Halloween display, and I’m down for the occasional Snoball. These have to be the most polarizing Hostess cakes out there, by the way. People either like them, or absolutely despise them. Ain’t not middle ground. And they’re not one that, even if you do like them, you eat them often. You’re either good for one like, twice a year, or you’re good for one when Hell freezes over.

This is one of those times to be good for one, fans. That blubbery little igloo coating of marshmallow is making the grade with a fine autumn coat of orange coconut. Not a fan? It’s also the season of the cupcakes sporting the orange frosting and those black sprinkles that look suspiciously like ants.

And thirdly, we’ve got Hershey’s Kisses in Pumpkin Spice. I’m not a fan of Kisses. I find them to be waxy and unpleasant. However, Hershey’s has seen fit to try and branch out, by making Kisses filled with, er, filling. Peanut butter, cherry, coconut, mint, cocoa flavor (at least that’s what the internet’s telling me). And now, to join their ranks, these guys! Though there’s a snag in this review. As much as I’m not a fan of Hershey’s chocolate, I’m even less of a fan of Pumpkin. Well known fact to those around me. Putting the two together left me asking ‘why did you buy me these?’, and thus, another personal relationship put on the ropes by Hershey’s chocolate.

But, for the sake of journalistic integrity, I’m going to eat one. The packaging itself is very chic, with the tiger stripe motif. Not pictured is that the candy itself is orange-colored white chocolate, with a white center. They certainly smell like pumpkin and cinnamon. And…

Jesus Christ are these things Pumpkin Spice-y! The filling has a nice consistency too.

So, despite my personal predilections, Pumpkin Spice Kisses take the blue ribbon in this round. If you like Pumpkin anything, you’ll go for these things. But if you’re like me… well, I’m going to rinse my mouth out.

Tomorrow’s article? Might be my sneering look at Silent Hill: The Movie. Or, if I don’t have time to crank that out, one of the articles I’ve finished ahead of time. Keeping you guessing!

Day One

2008-10-01T15:39:00.005-04:00

Hey folks (both of you that stumbled upon this and haven’t hit the back button yet) October’s here, and that means Halloween’s coming up on us soon. Of course, the stores have been goading us since August like the eager whores they are by putting out the bags of fun-size candies. Hey there, sailor. See anything you like? Don’t give me that ‘I’m only here for butter and Mango Cosmopolitan mix’ line, I can see in your eyes what you really want. Fun-size Skittles, three dolla. C’mon, just a little taste won’t hurt you. Sure, it’s a good time then, but can you really bear the shame the next morning, when you come to, groggy, missing your wallet and a kidney, with the bed and surrounding floor littered with tiny, pumpkin-laden Skittles bags?

…Yeah, I know I promised I wouldn’t bring that up anymore. But Jesus man, the whole bag? What were you thinking?

Since it’s only October first, I feel it’s not time to bust out the big guns yet. So in the spirit of starting small, we’re starting cheap. With that in mind, let’s talk dollar-bin Halloween decorations. If you’re into Halloween (like me) and a moderately dirt poor, post-college twenty-something(like me) you can appreciate the desire to decorate on the cheap without the hassle of planning ahead and hitting the post-Halloween close-outs the year before.

These, as you can guess, are what you can scrounge for a dollar (or less) from assorted $1 stores, or the ‘value’ section of most chain super-stores, like Target or Wal-Mart. Take this stylish Ghost Bucket for example:

I’ll be honest with you, he actually cost me in the ballpark of forty cents last year, but we’ll let that slide. He was cheap as Hell, so that’s what counts. But don’t be fooled! Despite his opaque, greenish hue, he does not glow in the dark. That expression on his face? Shame. Total and utter shame. Or wistful longing for the ability to glow in the dark. Perhaps mocking derision at my amateurish picture-taking. Who can tell?

Now, you may be saying, ‘Lady, what’s so great about a ghost bucket?’. Slow down, Hoss! First off, it’s Ghost Bucket. And really, what can’t you do with a Ghost Bucket? Keep your candy in it. Let that kid who keeps calling you ‘Daddy’ for some odd reason use it as a candy pail (but only if you’re unaware of the superiority of pillowcases, or really hate that kid). This little champ held our stash of Candy Corn. Then after Halloween, his noble deed done, my roommates and I would throw our bottle caps in him. These days, he’s retired to a simple life of holding all the post-its and mechanical pencils Mom would send me in care packs.

This budget Halloween decoration? He delivered.

So with three dollars worth of spare change and a clear mission in mind, I went to Target. And what did I return with?

Two packages of gel window clings and 60” of tinsel garland.

Our first pack of gel clings has your standard spooky cat, bats, spiders, and a few little sigil doo-dads. Although they probably look all black to you, looking really closely and holding them up to the light just so revealed one bat and the diamonds were purple, while the spiders are brown. Swanky, eh?

The second pack of gel clings has the more cartoony cats, a ‘SPOOKY’ label, and that… cave drawing of Simba from the Lion King. Also, the ‘s’ from SPOOKY is clearly the number two. So, what can this mean? Simple cost-cutting? No! I prefer to think the spirits of Halloween bargains are trying to tell us something, like a poor man’s Ouija Board. 2 POOKY? Who is Pooky, and what do I have to give to him? My soul? A message from the other side? A name-drop in this article? Tell me, spirits!

Or maybe… maybe the o’s are really zeroes? 2-0-0… 200!

We have 200, but 200 what, exactly? Rearranging the letters, we get KPY. 200 KPY? Kids per year? Oh, Hell no. Don’t tell me I’m going to have 200 kids showing up at my door every Halloween for the rest of my life demanding candy. If that happens, I’m switching to handing out non-name-brand caramels and Mary Janes.

Sorry about the crappy candy, kids of future Halloweens. The spirits warned me there’d be unending waves of you for decades to come, so I’m buying cheap and I’m buying bulk. On the other hand, this could simply be a retardedly obtuse puzzle, like something out of Metal Gear Solid. I don’t have time to continually re-arrange this gibberish to find out Campbell’s new Codec frequency, Spirits! This is Halloween! We’ll just have to pass this along to Pooky and let him try and makes heads or tails of it.

On to the garland! It’s purple, shiny, has cool little confetti bats on it. And it’s not very long. Five feet of garland for a buck isn’t bad, but at the same time, you’d better have a small living space, or hope people coming over don’t ask about the one strand of garland that doesn’t even make it across one wall. Sure, you could buy several strings of garland, but then the cost starts adding up and we’re crossing the line from ‘budget’ to ‘regularly priced’. Not to mention the feral, unpredictable nature of the bargain bin. Sure, the ‘Iridescent with pumpkins’ may be just what you’re looking for, but what happens when there’s only one of those, but fifty ‘orange with spiders’ garland? Are you really willing to ruin the entire motif of your Halloween shindig just because it’s ‘what they had’? It’s a gamble. A dangerous, often deadly gamble.

But enough about that. What can I possibly decorate with my meager pickings? Oh ho, just you wait, my friends. It may shock you.

Or not. Here’s the first thing I managed to spruce up for the season. My computer monitor! Gotta get in the mood, kiddos. No sense driving a hearse if you’re not an undertaker or Ghostbuster, and no sense writing about Halloween stuff if your computer isn’t sporting the appropriate accoutrements. Besides, it’s not like I could do much else with the garland. And the clings on the computer monitor is actually way more distracting than you’d think. Can I see the time? No. But damn if it doesn’t match perfectly with the garland. Computer of The Damned here, ladies and gents.

And as for the remaining gel clings, they went over here, onto the only moderately sized glass surface I have where everything wouldn’t look too spaced out.

This is Dapper Dan, with his cage being transformed from a humdrum run of the mill hovel, into a Spook-tacular House of Horrors! By the by, I like typing ‘house of horrors’ far more than saying it. I can’t be the only one that thinks it comes out sounding too much like ‘house of whores’, no matter how hard you try to enunciate it.

So, Dan, does this have you raring to go for Halloween?

…I see.

Come back tomorrow, it’ll probably be about candy! And stay tuned for more Halloween crap in the days to come, including terrible dollar horror movies, terrible full priced horror movies, mood music, things I’ve found in the attic, Silent Hill, and more!