A Sample of My Thought Process or Lack There Of

The Red Queen Kills Seven Times?  Wow, that’s an intriguing name for a Horror Flick, to say the least.  Might wanna check that out.  Who directed it?

Emilio Miraglia.  Huh.  That’s the guy who did The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave.  A movie I hated.

So do I want to watch another flick by him.  Hmm.  Let me consid–

No.

No.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no Tippi Hedren at the end of The Birds no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

 

Well maybe.

Saint Here, Look Elsewhere

The mind’s a funny thing.

There are some things I’ve watched a million or so times as a kid, I can’t tell you a thing about them, save that I watched them.

Take the Smurfs.  Every Saturday I was right in front of the television, watching their latest antics.  Fanatically.  Even in rerun.  Today, I could tell you the plot of one, maybe two storylines.  Mainly because they sprung directly from Peyo and I’d read the comics.

Then it goes the other way: stuff I’ve seen only once and I can give you, if not the whole story, then enough to give you the gist.

Couple of examples, neither quite fair, as I hunted most of the stories they were based on down as an adult.  First there’s Afterwards, an episode of the tv series Mystery (kind of, sort of).   I knew more or less beginning, middle and end for years.  Decades.  Only saw the show the one time.

Perhaps more impressive, there was this episode of the Horror anthology Dark Room. It had three stories and I could have told you about each one of them.  The last one, an adaptation of Robert Bloch’s Catnip, caused me to hesitate looking under beds for weeks afterwards.

Okay, I fib.  I still don’t like looking under beds.

I’m sure the reason these stories stuck in my mind and so many others didn’t is the Horror aspect.  For instance, I can tell you right where I was standing when I saw the ending of John Carpenter’s The Fog.  The family was over at a friend’s house, it was time to go.  I was on the stairs between the living room and the house’s foyer, scared out of my mind.   Burned right into the grey matter.

Now why do I bring this up?

For years, there’s been this scene from an episode of St. Elsewhere that I couldn’t forget.

St. Elsewhere, for those not in the know, isn’t exactly a Horror show.  It’s a hospital drama.

But I remember where I was when I watched it.  Upstairs at my aunt’s house.  It might even have been the first run of the episode.

I remember certain details from the story, like an obnoxious doctor making rude comments about a sleeping patient and the patient remembering them on waking.  Then there was this Z. Z. Top dream (I think my fondness for the band stems from this episode.)

And I remember this curly-haired doctor having a nightmare.

For the most part, the nightmare excepted, it couldn’t even remotely be considered scary.

Yet that one scene, the second to last scene in the episode (which no doubt helped stick in there) I remembered as being damn scary.  Curly Hair has his dream one last time.  He forces himself into this room he found so terrifying and has a confrontation with someone he knows. At the end, for some reason this someone ends up appearing in a ski mask.

I know.  You’re sterilized with fear from that description.  Me too.

Last night it sort of popped up in my thoughts, and I said to myself, “Self, the internet is a wonderland of information.  Let us seek out this episode and find out just what it was that made that scene so memorable to you.”

Know what I found?

It’s damn hard to find out any information about St. Elsewhere. 

You can have the finale episode’s ending spoiled for you nine ways to Sunday.  You can have the various connections to the various TV shows pointed out to you.  But actual information on a given episode?  You’re on your own.

Hulu actually has the show, but only first season.  This episode?  Wasn’t first season.

Problematic.

Yet I persevered.  I discovered the name of the episode (“Sweet Dreams”) and a host of other information, such as the guy Curly Hair talks to at the end was a recurring character who turned out to be (or might have been, it’s not very clear) a Ski Mask wearing rapist.  Which gives context to what I was seeing.

Which I wouldn’t have had at the time.

As I didn’t watch a lot of St. Elsewhere.

Finally I managed to find the scene in question on YouTube.  Curly Hair (Jack) has a chat with the dead Ski Mask (Peter).  They have a little chat about the Afterlife (which Peter says he can’t discuss) and a little pep talk for Jack, which sounds a bit ominous to my ear.  Maybe it’s just reading up on what happened in the series.

Then it comes.  Jack’s heading out of the room (no doubt beginning to wake up) and he asks the big question: “Who shot you?”

“That’s not important,” Peter says.  “What’s important is that I deserved it.”

The ski mask appears and Peter starts laughing.  And this, I must say, is creepy as hell.

I’m just surprised it was creepy enough to linger for twenty some odd years.

But like I said, the mind’s a funny thing.

I Admit It: Mistakes Were Made

Hey.

Remember almost a week and a half ago, I came on this site to, I dunno, vent my spleen a little?  Maybe summon up some preternatural horrors to plague the uncaring world?  In a playful manner?  Because a movie I wanted to see (called The Babadook) wasn’t playing at my local theaters?

Yeah.

Well.

Today I found a single theater playing it, starting tomorrow.  Ten miles from where I live, but no biggie.

So.

Um.

There’s that.

And, I suppose I really should apologize to [REDACTED] for using the Necronomicon to summon up the Sulien Goat.  Super sorry.  My bad.  I’m sure that those of you who have had your soul eating by that Sort-Of Good Middle Aged One will still have full if sociopathic lives.

In the case of the politicians, I doubt anyone will ever notice.

Heh.

Yeesh.

MY CITY, STATE SUCKS THE BIG ONE!

I have just found out to my absolute horror and disgust, that The Babadook isn’t playing in my city or my state.

It’s playing in other cities and states.    Just not my city, state.

I’ve been waiting FOREVER to see this movie (well, at least since I saw the trailer) and now I find out

I

 

CAN’T

 

SEE

 

IT!

 

Oh, but look here!  I CAN see the movie Ouija.  It’s about trouble connected to idiots using a Ouija board.  I can watch that in this city again and again and again if I so wish.

But I don’t.

Why?

I’ve already SEEN THE FRICKING THING!

Back when it was called freaking

 

WITCHBOARD!!!

AKA

EVERY CRAP

HORROR FLICK IN

THE LATE EIGHTIES

EARLY NINETIES!!!!

Crap teenie bopper horror I get, instead of something of interest.

But I’m not bitter.

Clearly.

I’m not b

Screw this crap, WHERE’S MY NECRONOMICON!!!!!  THIS CRAP WON’T FECKING STAND, BOYO, I’LL BE TELLING YOU THAT FOR DAMN CERTAIN!!!!!

OH EM GEE PART DEUX! Two Reviews Ready to Go!

So with surprising speed I wrapped up a second review.  This one (shockingly enough) is of an actually feature film and not a short.

Imagine the novelty!

All that needs doing is transferring the file over from my word processor to Word Press (a process that has become a pain in my butt), making sure all the links link, the captions caption, and the formatting formatted.

What about proper spelling, grammar, and making sure the review makes sense?  Who cares?  I’m sure somebody else will come along and fix all of that stuff later on.

(Which is true, if you consider Future Cullen to be a separate person from Current Cullen.  Current Cullen certainly hopes this is the case.  If it isn’t, that strongly suggests that neither is Past Cullen, and Past Cullen was a lazy jackanapes.  Current Cullen has been correcting the reviews Past Cullen wrote and the errors HAVE NO END!)

Silliness aside, this coming Friday features the short film The Contraption.  Next Friday will have The Amazing Transparent Man (small spoilers: it ain’t that amazing).  The Friday after that, with any luck at all will also have a review.  Maybe The Cremators, maybe some Slasher flick or another.  Or perhaps another real short film or TV show episode.  Haven’t noodled it out yet.

Memo to Self: The Horror Novel With the Sword You Keep Looking For is “The Search for Joseph Tully”

Search for Joesph Tully 001I don’t understand how my brain works.  I really don’t.

You mention Progeny of the Adder, I can tell you it’s a vampire novel, written around the same time as The Kolchak Tapes (the novel that became Night Stalker.)  Never read it, but I can tell you that.

However, give me a novel I enjoyed, a novel whose ending still haunts me, and I can’t for the life of me tell you its name.

It’s sort of like Afterward.  Except with Afterward, I had an out in it being an episode of PBS’s Mystery.  This I wasn’t so lucky on.

You might notice Mr. Waters being coy with what the book (The Search for Joseph Tully, just like it sez in this post’s title) is about.  Don’t want to give any spoilers.  I just remember it being very good.

And the end sticks with you.

So,  as to remember, here is a reminder for myself.

The Hell ..?! (XXX) – WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO POOR ROBERT ENGLUND?

Some times being a funny guy bites you right on the keister. For example:

I’ve run a series of essays called The Hell …?! for pretty much the entire time I’ve run this blog.  It details the bizarre things I stumble across on the web and (on rare occasions) during real life.  It’s one of the big kicks I get and, like the blog itself, one of the few projects I haven’t out-and-out abandoned over my misspent life.

For reasons that amount to because that’s how it’s done I’ve numbered every last one with a Roman Numeral.  Which has been fine right up until I hit good old number thirty.  There my humor gets me.

Small history lesson for those who didn’t snicker a little at the above title.  Back in the day, before the internet made everyone’s life so much easier, movies had four ratings denoting which film was for what.  There was G, for the little kiddies; PG, for the bigger kiddies; R, for adults and certain lucky kiddies; and X, for no kiddies at all, what are you, a sick pervo or something?

Basically X is what NC-17 is today.  Stuff that certain people think might be too much for the tots to take.

The porn industry, being clever, started throwing out their own rating, XXX.  Meaning, I suppose, three times as adult as Brand X.

All of this is a long-winded way of saying that I felt this particular had to deal with porn.  Or sex.  Or something sexy.

Now I will do a lot for this blog.  Really.  Even sometimes write a post for it.  But the one thing I WILL NEVER EVER, EVER DO is seek out sexy things that make me say “The Hell…?!”

Nope.

Ain’t going to do it.

The real bitch about the whole thing is that I’d already done the perfect subject for this one not five essays ago.  I even remember thinking about saving it and everything, right before I posted it.  What a maroon.

The world being what it is, a solution was bound to show up.  Which happened this week.

(Small digression here.  One might have thought that this weeks announcement of the porn parody of Doctor Who, Doctor Whore, might have qualified.  However, after the Dalek porno, it’s just a johnny-come-lately in terms of shock.

(And no.  That wasn’t intended.)

Anyway, Mike Sterling over at the Progressive Ruin has his own series of blog posts, dubbed the End of Civilization.  It is there where I discovered this, the subject of this post.  After over four hundred words of blathering.  Can you beli– Okay I’ll stop and show the image:

This is Freddy Kruger Question Mark 000

They call this Freddy Krueger Bishōjo Statue.

Bishōjo, for those who care, means “pretty girl”.  For the record

A few thoughts.

  • Whoever thought that having a child murderer sexualized in any shape or form?  Not right in the head, I should think.
  • The way she’s bent like that looks pretty nightmarish to me.  So points there.
  • I know it defeats the purpose of the whole “pretty girl” thing, but Kruger without burn scars is just wrong.
  • I would suggest a Bishōnen (pretty boy) statue next for those who would be into such a thing, but frankly this thing scares me enough as is.

I look forward to the Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, and Leatherface Bishōjo Statues.  But not the Norman Bates one; that would be just silly.