Celebrity Deaths

So we’ve had a lot of deaths over the last month. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against dead folks. Hells, no! Some of my best friends are dead. A lot of them aren’t much for conversation mind you, but you expect this from the undead. Hell, a lot of them aren’t much for anything… so I use them for parts.

Oh crap, I’ve gone and let myself get sidetracked again… anyway the deaths I was referring to are of the hollywood kind. Celebrities. Since June 1st we’ve lost David Carradine, Ed MacMahon, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, and of course that (incomprehensibly to my mind) ever so popular pasty white pop star Michael Jackson. The man was more pale than any ghoul I’ve ever known and that was before he kicked the damn bucket. Popularity being what it is, and american taste being determined how it is… and for the record I have no idea what makes Americans like what they like, Michael Jackson is the one among all of them (and many others I haven’t mentioned) who gets all the attention.

After all the specials, news items, blog posts and memorial posts regarding Michael Jackson’s death one thought has managed to remain foremost in my thoughts every time I see a new article on the man:

The saddest thing about Michael Jackson’s death is that so many people don’t know how to spell Michael.

Blood and Stitches everyone!

The Old Monster

AND REMEMBER TO SEND IN THOSE QUESTIONS, ABOUT LOVE, LIFE, CAREER ADVICE, POLITICS, DAMN NEAR ANYTHING. SEND YOUR QUESTIONS TO:

oldmonster@daverana.com

Movie Review: Horror Express

I’ve just been watching an old Hammer film titled Horror Express on a local retro station. Thankfully a movie that old rarely has much to censor by today’s standards, especially a Hammer film. It certainly Isn’t the best film Hammer has to offer, not by a long shot, but I’ll admit I found it more enjoyable than I remembered when I first saw it a few decades ago.

As you’d expect in a horror film of this vintage the science is laughable, but the idea of a mind wipe thorough enough to smooth the ridges of a human brain is interesting to see even if it is a tad comical. The movie also had a lot of funny moments. Telly Savalas showed up as a sadistic no nonsense Cossack officer which is funny enough by itself, well it’s funny if you’re me anyhow, and the scenery chewing doesn’t hurt either. But what exactly is so memorable about the film? The answer can be found in a single line of dialogue:

The scene takes place in a private car (it is a train after all) where two scientists played by Cushing and Lee (but of course) are having a conversation with an inspector regarding the monster who’s been killing passengers. Upon Cushing’s assertion that the monster could be anyone, the inspector supposes that the monster could even be one of the two scientists themselves. Cushing’s response is priceless.

Inspector Mirov: The two of you together. That’s fine. But what if one of you is the monster?
Dr. Wells: Monster? We’re British, you know.

Though panned at it’s release the film has gone on to become a favorite of both Horror Science Fiction fans alike. This movie is definitely good for a quick infusion of nostalgia for you Hammer fans, or maybe for a movie to watch while stoned for those of you who indulge in such things. It’s all good. The Rasputinesque monk is enough for a night’s fun by himself.

cast:

Christopher Lee: Prof. Alex Caxton
Peter Cushing: Dr. Wells
Telly Savalas: Capt. Kazan
Julio Pena: Inspector Mirov
Alberto de Mendoza: FatherPujardov

Just a quick update, because I know you miss me

Another piece of viewer mail in dire from a reader in dire need of my expertise. Gods help her!

Dear Old Monster

Mr Jerrson says that if I don’t get a good grade in Biology I won’t get
into the college I want. And there’s this guy in my class who totally
looks like Edward from Twilight. But stupid Brianna the cheerleader is
always all over him. Science Fair is coming up, and I want to do
something on anatomy. Is there any way I can get rid of Brianna, do
good at Science Fair, and maybe get “Edward” to notice me?

Signed, Failure Is Not An Option

Dear Failure,

Um, why would you be obsessing over a boy who looks like that? Edward
from Twilight? Don’t mind me sweetie, but I just can’t see the appeal of a “vampire” who wears lavender lipstick.

Maybe he’s born with it,

maybe it’s Maybelline?

When it comes to vampires I’ll take Graf Orlock or that dreamy Mr.
Nomack anyday.

As I was about to say before I let myself get sidetracked… again, the
answer should be obvious, even to one so young as you. You need a good grade in Biology, you’re preoccupied with dreamboat (A), and harpy (B) won’t give you any alone time with said dreamboat. Think a moment.

Have you thought of any good ideas for an extra credit project?

No?

Well I have: a dissection. Get it? Dissect Brianna, get an A, or a
life sentence, or both. And you get the boy! Simple.

Reader Mail

Another letter to the Old Monster for your perusal, and it is a dilly! Nothing like throwing a near imponderable to put you into bad case of writer’s block is there? Questions like this one make me sweat frankly so I think I’ll just scratch the surface a bit and hope she can get her research on. Poor kid has one hell of a learning curve ahead of her.

Dear Old Monster,

I have been locked in my parents basement for the last eight years. What should I know about the real world?

Hopefully,
In The Dark And Out Of The Loop

PS: Please help me Old Monster, you’re my only hope!

I’m sorry to have to break this to you, Leia, but if I’m your only hope then I think you’re boned. I’ll have to assume you are somewhere around eighteen for simplicity’s sake as there is no single answer to a question like this. After all, most adults don’t get locked in the basement by their parents, do they? A lot of them should be, but that’s beside the point.

I hardly know where to start. Politically it’s been a hell of an eight years. We’re wrapped up in a war in Iraq that we started over, now get this, a person who didn’t orchestrate an attack the World Trade Center killing thousands, didn’t attack us, didn’t attack our allies, and didn’t have illegal weapons of mass destruction stashed around his country in violation of UN sanctions, and wasn’t hiding Al Quiada operatives in his country. Not when we attacked anyway. Don’t even get me started on who and/or what Al Quaida is… you’ll figure it out soon enough if your Google Fu is strong.

Soooooo– we fragged his country… yeah. Oh, before I forget we also attacked another country and overturned it’s government… sort of. The women still wear Burkas but I hear three men in Kabul have started using toilet paper. Worth every penny of the billions we’ve spent on the invasions, yes?

On the home front we’ve become obsessed with trivial celebrity and shallow attention whoring marketed as reality television. You’ll note that Reality Television is an oximoron. It’s no more real than a cartoon and frankly it barely qualifies as television. This, and its pornographic counterpart the “Girls Gone Wild” videos, allow shows to be made at very low overhead. It’s easy to make a show that doesn’t require plot or storyline (or script writers) and it will likely make a ton of money even if it flops. Television like this almost makes me miss Gilligan’s Island. Almost.

It never took much to achieve celebrity status of course. If you don’t believe me take a look at Paris Hilton. She bought her way into the spotlight regardless of her complete lack of talent, common sense, and a measurable IQ. These things aren’t necessary these days if you start out rich or know who to screw. And before you older folks get on that high horse of yours save it… does the name Zsa Zsa Gabor mean anything to you?

Culturally we aren’t much better off. Wonderful devices such as The cellphone and the PDA and the bastard offspring of both have spared us from the hardships of communicating on the go, personal organization, and literacy; to say nothing of reading comprehension. But you’ll sure look bitchin’ with that Blue tooth headset on behind the wheel of your SUV so no worries, image is everything!

The internet has performed the same purpose of course, but with better graphics and easier input. It seems that the improvements in ease of use of a given bit of technology are inversely proportionate to the decline in most people’s ability to make use of said device. A quick, comprehensive way to frappe’ a human brain in record time. Go Hulu Go!

A few more advancements like these and we won’t need schools. Some fencing around the back forty will keep the sheep contained during class and graduation can be simplified greatly. A quick trip to the kitchen and a sharp blow with a cross-peen hammer and VOILA!.

The Religious Right as a whole and individually is acting the same as it always has: foaming at the mouth, flailing like a drunken hooker in a pig waller at everything that isn’t to their liking. You know, all that post McCarthy bullshit. No change here except a lot of them are managing to get elected to public office. Scary.

If this gives you the impression I’m stalling then you’re half right. More has changed in the last decade or so than can be recounted in a single letter, or for that matter a single book. You have a lot of catching up to do and for this I can only offer my sympathy.

Blood & Stitches,

The Old Monster

Just another Monday

I know it’s been way too long since my last post and I promise to make amends and post more often. Sadly, the last few weeks have been hard on me and as a result I’ve haven’t kept up my torture schedule at all well. For this I offer my humblest apologies and in the future I promise to keep all my victims screaming. Before I read this week’s letter I’d like to remind my readers that any and all questions regardless of type can be sent to:

oldmonster@daverana.com

The questions can be about nearly anything. How to get that boy/girl to notice you, How to get him/her to go away, How to deal with those pesky leftovers (see below), storm the castle, whatever. How to get rid of tea stains, inlaws, anything at all. I live to help. >:p

And now this week’s letter.

Dear Old Monster

It seems like everywhere I go, I trip over a dead hooker. Now, I like dead hookers as much as the next guy, but I think my collection is getting too big for the garage. Trouble is, I hate wasting stuff. I was thinking of maybe making lamps and furniture out of them, but a guy can only have so many chandeliers. Any ideas?

Signed,
Teumany Peltz
420 Slaughterhouse Rd.
Arkham, MA

Oh my my my, aren’t we the busy little sociopath. I find myself tempted to ask why you’re so prolific, but who am I to judge? After all I’m personally responsible for more than my share of landfill stuffing now aren’t I? I do, however, feel the need to ask two questions. You needn’t answer them necessarily, just consider them food for thought.

The first is a simple one. Why hookers? Why do so many handy men such as yourselves target hookers? What did they ever do to you… oh wait, maybe it’s what they wouldn’t do that set you off? I hear that every so often. But hookers are rather low on the scale when it comes to recyclability my friend. Between the abuse, the poverty, and ingesting everything they can wrap their fingers around except food you rarely find much meat on them. I like gnawing on bones as much as the next monster but meat makes the meal my friend. You may want to vary your collection a bit in the future. You know, try something new. I can personally testify that travelling salesman are lovely when sauteed in peanut oil with a little bafat seasoning on low heat. And bankers? Oh, nothing like ‘em. They’re fattening as all hell but you can’t have everything now can you? My personal favorite would have to be missionaries slow roasted with a really good medium heat barbecue sauce, Mmmmmm mmmm…

Oh crap, there I go on another barely relevant tangent. I’d better stop that. Now where was I?

Oh yes, the second question: Why did you wait so long to ask for help, dear boy?

Keeping your activities organized, especially in the disposal of potentially incriminating items such as body parts is essential for the successful connesieur. Haphazard disposal of evidence leads to many an embarassing moment. If you doubt me, try explaining a trashbag full of “discards” to the local authorities. With all due respect you really need to get your act together.

In any event I think I should recommend to you a little book titled 101 Uses For A Dead Cat by Simon Bond and The Cat’s Revenge: 101 Uses For A Dead Human by Philip Lief. The books are chock full of lovely ideas for putting animal flesh (including those pesky house apes) to a productive purpose.

Additionally, might I also recommend a taxidermy course? If nothing else you can sell the work to movie studios. They do appreciate a ready supply of disposable extras. Cheaper than paying someone to stand in the background and they don’t complain. Well, a few of them do but that’s a different sort of taxidermy that you may not be ready for yet… baby steps, you know how it is.

Another thing you can do to dispose of the soft tissue is sell it to a dogfood maker. Meat is so much easier to hide than skin and bone. You just mix it into the hamburger. The skin of course requires a bit more effort to make it less conspicuous. If all else fails you can stitch the hides together and make curtains, right? Do keep me posted on your progress, I can always use an extra contact for meatscraps and the like. The family goes through groceries like a neo-con goes through laxatives.

AND ON TO THE NEXT ISSUE…

This movie review is months overdue, but I hope you can forgive me.

REPO: THE GENETIC OPERA

There really should be more movies like this (but if anyone even thinks of making a sequel I’ll eat their brains raw with a lovely marinara and a side of sauted shitake). This movie is a joyously sadistic stew of Romance, SciFi, horror, comedy, and rock opera. The characters are all played well, even the role of Amber Sweet. You may ask: Who knew Paris Hilton could act? Don’t be shy, everyone asked the same question, and I answer: It’s easy when you play yourself.

Still, it was tons of fun to watch her *cough* lose face.

This movie was released by Twisted Pictures. These are the same lovely humans who brought you such well known family pictures as the SAW series and Catacombs. Hey, if they’re good enough for my family they’re good enough for yours. It was directed by Darren Lynn Bousman and written by Terrance Zdunich and Darrin Smith, both of whom appear in the movie. Zdunich plays the graverobber with a Faginesque grace that makes this ghoulish character seem almost fatherly. Smith’s role is significantly smaller and played behind a mask. But hey, someone has to lead the band, right? And the music is to die for. Oh stop worrying, I died and you don’t see it affecting my night life do you. This movie is far better seen than described, so get the DVD and see it.

THE CAST:

Alexa Vega … Shilo Wallace

Paul Sorvino … Rotti Largo

Anthony Head … Nathan / Repo Man

Sarah Brightman … Blind Mag

Paris Hilton … Amber Sweet

Bill Moseley … Luigi Largo

Nivek Ogre … Pavi Largo (as Ogre)

Terrance Zdunich … Graverobber

Sarah Power … Marni

Darren Smith … Geneco’s Band Leader

Party Cuisine and a little advice

Hieronymous gets such a kick out of throwing those parties of his. Though he really should be more careful about the cuisine he serves. Refrigerated stiffs from the morgue are all well and good for a ghoul, but even the Jethros of the Undead Smart Set like a warm meal now and again. Perhaps Hie could just chain a used car salesman to a stake on the terrace. You know, make them work a bit to whet the old appetite.

I generally prefer mine warm, conscious, and running but I realize that nothing upsets a tea party for the high and mighties faster than a mismanaged greased-pig catching contest. Don’t let Hieronymous fool you though, though there aren’t many ways to cut corners when feeding his vampire friends you can always save a few bucks feeding ghouls and the hired help. I heard once that he served an embalmed corpse to the kitchen staff. Of course there is always the chance the ghoul was mistaken, their judgement is often questionable after all. It could have been enbalming fluid, or the man might have been Pentacostal. The end result is just as foul regardless.

Anyway, I recieved a really good question from a reader who wants to prepare an extra special batch of cookies for an upcoming birthday party:

Dear Old Monster

What is the best percentage of child-to-flour when making gingerbread cookies? I have the redheads all lined up, but now I don’t know what parts to use. Damned gingers.

Warmest regards,

Natenuff Blutengutz (Culinary student, University of Vasaria )

Well, Herr Blutengutz, gingerbread cookies require a somewhat softer touch than an enterprising maneater like yourself might guess. Ginger, as you know is a potent ingredient in nearly any recipe and as such is quite easy to abuse. We don’t want that now do we? And please note that the best parts of the ginger kid for seasoning purposes are the heart, liver and sweetbreads. chop, dry, grind to a fine powder and seal in an airtight container. Mason jars are your friend. For Gingerkid cookies, I suggest a one to four parts ratio gingerkid to a good whole wheat flour, don’t use white flour. If you use too much gingerkid you can always cut it with a little Brown sugar, or tomato in a vegetable dish or stew. Extract of Mormon will neutralize excess gingerkid with a quickness. Hell Mormon is so bland it could suck the ditzy out of a Scientologist.

I hope this helps you Herr Blutengutz, if not just say so and maybe I can dig up a few nifty recipes out of the old lab.

Wormiest Regards,

The Old Monster

One final thing before we wrap this up. If you have a question for The Old Monster, or if you want to suggest a subject for my next post, write me at oldmonster@daverana.com

Long Time, No Shriek

Greetings and Salutations Mutants! I would have posted earlier but I’ve been busy cleaning up after the holidays and organizing the lab. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to remove that much body fat from a drainpipe, and while we’re on the subject of body fat it might be nice if some of you would take it easy on the Twinkies will you, sheesh!

So how are all of you? Eat any good people over the holidays? We didn’t do much around here for New Year’s, just kept an eye out for the few drunks or salesmen that were stupid enough to be lost in our neighborhood. When the town fathers say they don’t appreciate vagrants they aren’t kidding. That reminds me; I really need to thank the sheriff for that visit last night. I was short some necessary, um… parts.

So, that out of the way we can stop sweating the supplies and get back to work. One of your fellow readers sent me two questions that I’d like to address. The first question is: What would you most like to see happen in 2009?

I honestly don’t know for sure what I’d want to see specifically for 2009, I just have a few vague ideas:

I’d like to see a drastic deconstruction of the Patriot Act of course, that goes without saying. There is just so much wrong and unnecessary about that festering gob of legislative effluent that I’d rather not bore you all with the details, but do I look like the type of creature that likes being watched? Not to mention the possible lawsuits if someone listening in on one of my calls has a coronary. I swear you humans have no stomach at all for science. Hell, the last time I called that farmer in the Ozarks I thought I’d have the CDC on me. I wouldn’t mind the partial or preferably the total dismantling of the Dept. of Homeland Security, but we know that money pit of a spook show is here for the duration. Washington loves it’s cash cows. Another thing I’d like to see is a nice, legal hunting season (or at least a single, special open season) on some of life’s more noisome creatures; the ones that are truly a pox on the peoples of the world, human and otherwise… like investment bankers and televangelists.

The next question is:
What do you think is going to happen on 21 December, 2012?

My personal feeling on the matter, along with a heartfelt apology to conspiracy fans in my readership, is that I don’t believe anything is going to happen. The Mayans, if most bonafide research is to be taken at face value, never said the world would end when The Long Count ended. In fact, they never said anything at all. It just so happens that the calender reaches the end of its cycle. The calender itself is identical in function to the other Mayan calenders (different calenders for different purposes) and it should be obvious to even the untrained eye that as the others begin a new cycle after the count resets than so should the Long Count. Conspiracy fans believe the cycle reset signals the end of the world simply because the calendar itself covers such a long a period of time.

They assume the Mayans intended the calender to encompass the entire span of human existence when this is never stated or implied. So sadly I have to conclude that no, those skulls aren’t going to save the world, they’re not going to get the Greys to pick some other planet to use as a tennis ball, and they won’t save you big bucks at your next tax audit. They just won’t.

Part of me wants to slap a bitch on the hand for using a recycled apocalypse theory, but then I remember that all of them are recycled. Don’t think so? Think about this: from a very basic POV, this doomsday scenario is identical to Y2K where it really counts. The clock winds down with a buttload of fanfare and when it reaches the reset point… POW, RIGHT IN THE SOCIETAL NUTSACK! Yep, sounds like a rerun to me. I don’t think I’ve seen an original doomsday scenario in at least three millenia. To review, the Mayans made no obvious allusion to an apocalypse at the end of the Long Count (or as a friend referred to it: the Alpaca Lips. *G*) at all. As far as I can see, they just didn’t plot the next cycle.

The beginning of the new cycle would have been almost a thousand years in the future from even the time of the last major Mayan settlement. Would you have bothered?

But I’d like to assure all the little paranoids, conspiracy fans, mutants, and of course the few sane readers I have that just because I think nothing will happen doesn’t mean I don’t want it to happen. Are you kidding me? I could really use a good apocalypse myself. Hell, Pompeii was a blast, or a blast furnace at the very least… sorry about that horrid little pun, I got all excited there for a moment. That kind of talk gets me moist, no mean feat when you’re dry as dust on most days. Let’s just say that I really enjoy the panic, paranoia and bloodshed that occurs before a predicted disaster and on those oh so rare
occasions that said disaster actually occurs I can usually look forward to lots of fun in the weeks, months, years, whatever that follow it. You say dark age… I say amusement park. It’s all semantics.

So long for now, and remember ladies: The fastest way to a man’s heart is through his ribcage. I recommend using a good broad axe.

CRAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL MY LITTLE MUTANTS!

Before I begin I’d like to know why so few of you little monsters have written me to ask questions?  I get lonely up here on the homestead.  Am I going to have to come out there and find you?  We hope not, right?  Just drop an email to:

oldmonster@daverana.com

And ask me anything you like, or just recommend a subject to write about, a loudmouthed sod to pick on or anything else that might be worth a look or a laugh.  And remember:  If I don’t hear from a few more of you soon I’ll come looking for you.

How are all of you on this Hanachristmakwanzsolstiyule?  We’re doing quite well all things considered, we had a Hell of an ice storm two weeks ago.  The ice formed so thickly that light poles and power lines were torn down and crushed, trees fell over and tore down more utility poles, and in general the town and every one of the primates living here went completely apeshit.  Not that I mind, I have a dynamo in the dungeon.  We did lose power temporarily.  Well only for a few minutes until Mr. V got the dynamo running.  Most of the locals were out for more than a week.  I couldn’t believe the looks some of them gave me in the street two days later because my lights were on and their’s weren’t.  I hate jealousy, don’t you?  Of course it could have been that I was dragging half a street preacher back to my house…

Naaah.

The holidays are a busy time for me and mine, we spend the previous few weeks stocking up on supplies for the winter months, and making preparations for the holidays themselves.  You know: hanging lights, stringing garland, sharpening the knives and Mr. V’s favorite two-headed broadaxe (can’t forget that!) and of course getting presents for each other.  There’s nothing like going to the lab first thing in the evening and finding fresh “patients” chained to the wall.  What can I say?  I’m easy to please.  Of course I could use some new lab glass as well.  I go through so many vials, beakers, and such during the course of a year.  Mr V can be a tad clumsy at times.  That said, the brute is invaluable.  He does the kind of heavy lifting that would make a forklift proud, and he’s loyal and attentive.  He never interrupts either, but that might be because his tongue is gone, I’m not sure.  I’ll have to ask him how that happened someday.  Now where was I?

Oh yeah, the holidays.  We had a lovely time.  We strung the old oak tree out back with the usual things, intestines and odd trinkets we’ve collected from our guests over the years.  I have a really nice antique coffin available if anyone wants it, it’s a nineteenth century model and only used once. It’s an extra, I have plenty.  So we decorated the tree like I said.  After that we went in and opened presents.  Nix was such a dear this holiday, he made a little sweater for Albert and he even remembered to make enough sleeves for all his little legs… and his tentacles too, that must have taken quite a while.  Nix got a book of protection spells (the rabbit can be a bit vindictive at times and his aim isn’t what it could be).  Hieronymous sent me the materials for a new capacitor bank to replace the old ones hooked up to the lightning rod.  Once I have it all hooked up to the battery room maybe I can make Mr. V a new playmate.  That would be nice.

Then we went out and egged the old church.  Oh get over it, no one’s used that old wreck for at least a century!  You must admit, it’s a great way to bring the family closer together.  We finished off the day with a nice, sit down meal.  I can’t tell you how much I love roast missionary.  Then again I just did, didn’t I?

So here we are after dinner, hiding behind the curtains waiting for the inevitable christmas carolers.  Mmmmmmmm, caaarolers.

Happy holidays everyone!

Huminz iz funee:

As of Nov. 18th, the most popular sport for divorced special ops soldiers in Durham NC seems to be… baby gladiator contests. Yeah, wrap your heads around that for a moment.
If you can.
No worries, I’ll wait.

linkies for the justifiably skeptical: http://www.abcnews.go.com/GMA/story?id=6278310&page=1

Done yet? Ok, good. Seems this asshat of a soldier videotaped his two year old beating another two year old bloody while he egged the boy on. Then, the stupid, attention whoring bastard posted it on YouTube. Wait, you don’t think he’s an attention whore? Why else post the video, hell, why else make the video? He wanted to show off his kid’s mad skills which paradoxically would never have developed if his father wasn’t such a brutal, unevolved glory hound. Sooooo… attention whore. The two year old in question is now staying with a relative. Might I suggest a total stranger? You know, someone NOT connected genetically or socially to this troglodyte?

You know, I really love the human mindset. I’ve never seen so many ways to wrap all that bad behavior in such a small package. Scary little monkeys, the lot of you.

MORE, YOU SAY?

A church in Kamarovo, a rural town in the Russian republic… is missing.

You can’t make shit like this up. Said church was inspected a few months
before the incident in question in an effort to prepare the abandoned
church for reopening and found structurally sound. A few months later all
that was left were parts of the foundation and a bit of wall.

“Pardon me, that grinding noise you just heard was a paradigm shifting
without a clutch.”

How does a church go missing? I realize it was a rural area but was it
really that isolated? An entire church is literally carried off piece by
piece and fixture by fixture in the space of three months and no one
notices? I would figure that at least one person would have noticed a
pile of bricks, a box full of candlesticks and four pews stuffed in the
back of a pickup truck, wouldn’t you?

“Hey Boris, does that podium look familiar to you?”

Is funny Igor, I don’t remember the police station having steeple, do you?

MORE?

Just before the recent collective sigh of relief at the thorough trouncing of the Batshit Rightwing Machine general election, actor, Steven fundy-as-all-fuck Baldwin announced he would move out of the country if Obama were ever elected. Well, dickhead? Get steppin! If you’re having trouble finding a country that will put up with you just head on over here and knock on the side door. When it opens just go to the guy in the hockey mask and tell him you’re unwilling to live in a country like this one moment longer. I’m sure he can come up with a way to help you. Maybe not with the living here part, but he can certainly find a solution to the living part of your problem.

It certainly won’t do the American gene pool any harm.

I MUST ADMIT, THOUGH, YOU HUMANS SURE KNOW HOW TO PARTY:

RESORT PLANS MONTH LONG NUDE “ANYTHING GOES” PARTY

“Tough economic times call for stiff measures,” Tony Fox, the owner of
the White Cockatoo resort in Mossman, in tropical Queensland state, told
the Courier-Mail newspaper.

Stiff measures? Put a quarter in the bad pun jar and move on, nothing to
see here… except nude Australians.

“It will be a hedonism resort, where anything goes for a month. It
doesn’t take rocket science to work out what it means,” says the owner of the resort.

No, I guess it doesn’t. It means an increase in calls to police and the
accompanying madness that causes, a rise in Viagra sales, increased TV sightings of Smilin’ Bob, the Enzyte Guy, and a possible spike in the birthrate ’round about August ‘09. Carry on, Kiddies.

Well that’s about it for this week, freaks. Just remember this helpful bit of romantic advice from the Old Monster: “If you really need to get his attention ladies, don’t use small talk… use a sledgehammer.”

I just flew in and boy are my wings tired. Wait, my what?

Hello Boils and Ghouls,

Yeah yeah yeah, I know that was used by the Crypt Keeper before… all the good lines have been used, get off me.  So I hardly know where to start to be honest, the last two weeks have been a real gas.  Let tell you the Old Monster is kind of fragged.  First, we had an election here in the good old US of A, and perhaps in a few years or so after some major work (and eight years of paranoia) perhaps we can actually call it good again.  I love elections, all those yummy pollsters… mmmmmmmm.  But it’s not all good is it?

Elections bring out the worst in people don’t they?  According to his esteemed former opponents, Obama is either an elitist, terrorist, half-breed muslim, tax-crazed, amoral, inexperienced, silk tongued devil (for real if the neocons are to be believed).  Either that or he’s that radical, gay-loving, Foreign-double-agent-gonna-give-the-country-to-the-blacks-and-teh-EBIL-gays, tax and spend thief-in-the-night… oh forget it.  I can just see half of these clowns up on their roofs like that Gabby idiot from BLAZING SADDLES, standing on the church roof with a telescope yelling “The Sheriff is a n*****!” over and over again only to be drowned out by the church bell every time he got to the ‘N’ word.  One thing was obvious: every right-wing jerkoff from Ashcroft to Limbaugh to Palin (especially Palin) and from Coulter to Rice to Schlaffly really, really,  wanted to say that word.

The so called common folk weren’t behaving so gallantly either, don’t get me wrong.  Shirley Nagel proved handily that Ann Coulter hasn’t cornered the market on politically motivated douchbaggery, or for that matter how to speak without considering the possible consequences of her so called ‘point of view’.  I hope this cow enjoyed all those prank calls she got.  I still don’t see how trick-or-treat has anything to do with with politics but hey, what do I know?  This damned earth logic of mine… always getting in the way of my understanding how some of you humans think.  I’m ashamed, no really.

Joe The Plumber is the new poster child for ‘undeserved celebrity’ and boy does he live up to the description, at least the first word of it anyway.  He’s so far gone through three different dumb-assed ideas in a lame attempt to stretch his celebrity over a few extra minutes.  Good luck with that.  Joe proves that a borderline employed, unlicensed, big-mouthed plumber with a limited command of the language can waste far more of America’s time and attention then other less important things… like issues.

Anyway, Obama won and now we can look forward to a president who speaks in complete sentences more often than not, doesn’t that sound nice?  Added bonus: he may actually have a mind in that skull of his.  He can even pronounce nuclear (nook – lee – ur, NOT noo – kyoo – lurr!) dammit!

Joe Biden and his teeth get to hang out with the cool kids for a few years, provided he can keep the verbal gaffes to a minimum.  Can he pull it off?  We’ll find out soon enough.

I can’t help but think that these reviews would be a hell of a lot worse if the news wasn’t so willing to overlook what was happening on the democratic side of the election issue.  Don’t get me wrong, they’re way too right biased to ignore a mistake, no no no.  They only ignore the good parts deliberately, the rest is myopic journalism, promise.

Note to Fox News: you can dig up a lot more dirt if you actually pick up the shovel… natch.

Sarah Palin fought hard to further the cause against women’s rights, and damned if she didn’t lower that glass ceiling at least a foot or two!  Way to go, Sarah.  From having no respect for women, or herself for that matter, our girl has come within and inch of inciting a race war, lowered rape victims to the status of burglary suspects, and let’s not forget some stellar performances in nearly every public appearance and interview she was involved in.  It takes real commitment to last through an entire debate without correctly answering a single question.  Comedy gold.  Anyway, now our girl can go home with a smile on that vacuous, painted mug of hers where she will be greeted by her adoring fans… all twenty four of them.  After pondering briefly the possibility of a run for president in 2012 (is that year a happy coincidence or what?) our lady of the venomously oblivious and her fans will retire to the home of one of the more prominent sheep molesters for a barbecue… which might explain the helicopters parked behind the tool shed.

John I-Do-Have-A-Soul-It’s-Just-Been-Mortgaged McCain can now go home to Arizona.  John ended a dirty campaign by delivering an excellent concession speech which proved two things:
One, knowing that Sarah Palin wouldn’t be within miles of him for at least the next four years has definitely improved his demeanor.
Two, four months of rehearsal and the best speech writer that republican money can buy makes for one hell of  an I-Give-Up speech.  Nice try though, John.

Ralph Nader topped off the shenanigans by pulling the “Uncle Tom” card in an interview.   Honestly, how many of you actually knew this grumpy old ‘never was’ even ran this year?  The whole interview read like a five year old who’d just gotten whipped in an insult contest yelling back over his shoulder while walking away.

“Well… well you’re fat!”

And you’re a sour old bastard.  Please shut up.

In a related story I keep hearing that some folks, including some in the media and on the internet, are blaming the passage of California’s Proposition 8 on the blacks.  BZZZUUHHH!?!  Look here, simples:

http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2008/11/7/34645/1235/704/656272

Follow the link to a COUNTY by COUNTY tally of African American voters and I’m sure anyone of you walking Happy Meals will see that this is simply not-the-frikkin-case! Have you ever heard the term “Wedge Issue”?  have those words ever entered or even passed through your head?  First, it’s a simple case of the pro-prop8 crowd saying something like “See, those black folks really aren’t your friends” in a blatant attempt to make us fight amongst ourselves.  Sounds familiar, eh?  You want to hear the really embarrassing part of this venomous twaddle?  A lot of you fell for it.  It doesn’t even add up logistically and when you look at it the issue it’s as clear as glass:  The measure passed because too many whites were organized in favor of it, too many out of staters funded it, and not enough whites opposed it.  In a state where African Americans comprise 6.7 percent of the voting population any other conclusion is asinine.  That’s one mistake too many.  I’ve had it with this pity the poor helpless mortals crap… you pinheads are back on the damn menu!

IN MOVIE NEWS:

TWISTED PICTURES is the production company that created the SAW series of horror films.  There’s no disputing the quality of the pictures put out by this company, though some of them are certainly better than others.  One of their earlier films, CATACOMBS, falls roughly in the middle of the spectrum quality wise.
Shannyn Sossamon plays Victoria, an severely introverted woman who has come to Paris at the invitation of her more worldly sister, played by an unusually plain-dressed Alecia ‘Pink’ Moore.  Don’t get me wrong, the mundane look isn’t wasted on Pink, she kind of looked like Tori Spelling but, you know… pretty… and without the horse DNA.  Upon her arrival, Carolyn (Moore) informs her that they’ll be attending a rave being held beneath the streets of Paris.  Specifically, in the largest mass grave in in the world.  While at the rave, Carolyn is killed by a maniac in a goat’s head mask, leaving Victoria alone in the infrequently lit tunnels.  More wackiness ensues of course, and Victoria is subjected to numerous tortures including a police raid, a nasty bump on the head, a crazed, occasionally lecherous psychopath, and oh yeah, did I mention the guy in the goat’s head mask?

The movie is a bit slow in the middle which detracts overall from the films watchability.  Otherwise it’s a solid, if questionably casted picture (for the most part every other character could have been played better save perhaps Henri, you’ll see why).  A few people I know didn’t care much for the ending but I must admit I liked it.  It was cathartic.  Violence has that effect on me, you know?

MY RATING:  Two and one half shrunken heads.

Stay tuned for a book review and more craziness in the next few days.  until then, creeps, break a leg…

Yes, someone else’s

The Old Monster