Go Hungry

I didn't much have anything to post last night past my silly photo. I'm paying for it today, because the latex or rubber has given me quite the sinus headache. I wonder if werewolves, with their flaring nostrils, get problems with their nasal passages. All that snarling maybe clears things out. Anyways. There is going to be a re-release of the Frazetta book above, but because of my idiotic headache, I can't recall who is putting it out, possibly Dark Horse. Whereas Bob said there were many trick-or-treaters down in Hemlockland, Charles said none at all arrived at his and Lana's place. Perhaps its because he doesn't care much for werewolves, even though he's the one who looks like one, whereas I look like Max Shreck as Nosferatu only with George W. Bush type ears. Or the Green Goblin's ears. Yes, that's better. I do enjoy writing about the Old Guard, though I try my best to give it my own spin, like the masochist who was turned into a vampire and got pissed off because he could no longer feel pain, the vampire who couldn't hypnotize a girl because she didn't have her contacts in, I've even written about an anorexic zombie and had a Lovecraftian monsters described as "Some Kinda Fucking Shit From Goddamn Hell." One werewolf story appeared in DARK DESTINY back in 1994, and I always thought that if there was a better calling for something other than vampires, I might've changed the ending and tried my hand at a novel. "Go Hungry" was about a lycanthrope (from his daddy's side) who had Huntington's chorea (from his mother's side). My take was, what is truly worse, a supernatural or a human hereditary disease? I end the story with the guy dying on his living room floor from seizures, on Hallowe'en, with the last line being "Outside, a goblin knocked, demanding candy." I was always proud of the line. Damn vampires. Who needs them?...Wayne

Happy Hallowe'en

I'm Not Growing...You're Shrinking!

I'm still listening to that cassette and there's a great trailer from THE AMAZING COLOSSAL MAN, as stated above. I just wished I had thought of posting Col. Glen Manning (after being exposed to a plutonium blast) at the same time I put David Hasselhoff out there. The best part of the film is that, when actor Glenn Langen grows and starts wearing that diaper, everybody normal-size sound like the Pillsbury Doughboy to him. He terrorizes Las Vegas, falls into Hoover Dam after being shot, then appears in the sequel as The Amazing Colossal BEAST, with pretty much half his giant-size face a grinning skull. The man-diaper stayed on during the fateful fall.
Back to last night: Screaming Yellow Theater was on WFLD Channel 12 (now Fox)on Friday nights, starting in 1970, and hosted by Jerry G. Bishop, a radio DJ. Dressed as Svengoolie, he was a hippie vampire with long green hair and red and white striped bell bottoms, and a red sweatshirt and peace medallion. He'd sing the goofy lyrics above and did a bunch of gag jokes, car commercials, and then all of Chicago would see, what seemed like every other week, a Vincent Price movie. In the 80s, Rick Koz took over as Son of Sven, eventually dropping the Son part with Bishop's well wishes as the latter retired to Florida. Koz is one of the coolest, most patient fellows who has hosted or guested at maybe six conventions I've been to this decade. But we had two night of greatness, if only one horror host, as Creature Features aired on WGN Channel 9 Saturday nights at 10:30. The theme was, as Richard Chwedyk emailed me, Mancini's "Experiment in Terror," which was also used in a Sherlock Holmes film. The best thing about CF was that every single film they showed was a Universal Monsters film. The Old Guard themselves, Dracula, The Monster and His Mate, poor Larry Talbot, with Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde tossed in along with Abbott & Costello...fun times, a long, long time ago.

Frankenstein's Den

Two posts as day, am I crazy or what? When talking about my cassette mix about 12 hours ago, I neglected to mention one of the all time coolest songs ever, by The Hollywood Flames, a do-wop band barely known outside of LA. Pull up a tombstone and sit down, Frankenstein is back in town. He has a den, forty feet below the ground, all the monsters and ghouls are there, and the house beverage is strychnine and soda pop. The best line is in the chorus, "Frankenstein's got a den, you won't come out a-like a-you went in." One of the band members changed his last name to Byrd and made a hit with "Rockin' Robin" and they did the original version of "Little Bitty Pretty One." The first few lines, as the music kicks in, one of the dudes does a pretty cool accidental Dean Martin, riffing "Ooh, that's mighty fine..." I shall continue my trip down memory lane tonight, sans photos of Merv and the Hass. Oh, the Burger King shot is care of the Ghost Town blog, it was the only Google image I could find...Hallowe'en time sure aint fun at high noon....Wayne

What's On Your NighPod?

I'll be talking music, but I've posted photos from some of our great horror programs here in Chicago over the years...

Awhile back, Sid had a "What's On My iPod?" post on his blog. I don't own one, being like The Amazing Colossal Man, I cannot operate such things as cell phones and those i-doodads. A NighPhone or a NighPod might be cool, something that foresees the near future. Or play songs like "Something In The Air Tonight" or "Deadman's Curve." Call me a futurist. My problem is I'd make everything REALLY big. Well, I could tell you what's on my cassette recorder. Its playing right now, I have two mixes from the mid-90s that have survived the new century better than I have. One is called "Beach Blanket Bodycount" and has some Frankie & Annette and Elvis and Mitchum singing some calypso along with monster songs. The other is a mix of trailers for VAMPIRE PLAYGIRLS and I WAS A TEENAGE WEREWOLF along with gems like "Bury, Bury, Baby" by Zacherly, "Surfin' Hearse" by Jan & Dean (not too cherry, but she could be worse), "Murder In The Graveyard" by Screaming Lord Strutch, and some songs by unknowns titled "Dead Man's Stroll" and "Do You Think I'm Psycho, Mama?" Strangely, the cassette ends with "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence." A favorite of mine that no one has ever parodied (except me, I guess) would be Elmer Fudd riffing on the Bauhau's "Bela Lugosi's Dead": "...the bwats have weft the bewtowwa, the wictims have been bwed wed vwelvwet wines a bwack box, Bewa Wugosi's dead..." I'll write about Svengoolie, past and present, tomorrow. Creature Features opened with Henry Mancini's creepy song, yea, that one, something with the word Terror in it. Since I had to be scared by that as a kid, as adults you can all be frightened by Hasselhoff and his puppies...Wayne

Far Side Werewolf

Before I head off to work, I thought I'd post today's Far Side calendar joke. I'm a big fan of werewolves and funny pants.

Don't Fear The Reaper

Stayed off the keyboard the last few days until I got some anti-inflammatory shots in my neck and back--my right elbow this time, as well--just in time for a surprise 15 hour workday yesterday. There were three days of the Hunter's Moon here, but only the first night was clear. Wednesday I walked down that winding side street I'll miss so much when the plant moves, and it was way cool that night because with the moon behind me, my shadow was clear on the blacktop in front of me, not spackled like you get from streetlights. As I walked, though, my mind drifted to the line in AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON..."Stay off the moors." I kept looking at the dark lawns on either side of me. I bought an orange backpack, I guess the idea of Walking Jim getting hit and runned got to me, so at least I can't be blamed for dressing like a ninja Steve McQueen if I'm ever run down. As Kate aptly pointed out, it is funny that I can only download Naturally Speaking in French and Dutch, seeing as those languages were the last sets of foreign edition books I'd received in the mail. I'm a bit annoyed that I can't be talking this into a microphone, but then again, I'm annoyed that the shots from the doctor only work about 75% by the third day. (I just need to stay on top of things by stretching and excercising). When I got off the bus that night, I stopped in a Walgreens for dog bones and Blue Oyster Cult's song that is my subject title was playing. That song has been in my head ever since I read THE STAND twenty-seven years ago, my hardback edition still having Captain Trips killing everyone off in the summer of 1980. I read quite a bit of that book in the town I've called Tallow Lake in several of my stories, most notably "Blood Border." I used to go there with a few guys from college for the weekend. Lake Geneva was nearby and, this is just a strange memory stuck forever in my head like the theme song to TOBOR, THE EIGHTH MAN, we were listening to a live band on a cloudy summer day play "Don't Fear The Reaper" and I saw this girl Mary, a waitress from Fat Cat's on Main Street. Now, Mary is the name mentioned in the song, and in the Stephen King quote. But, even now, whhenever I hear the song, I think of the sky that day, the smell of the water, and the waitress, the color of her blouse and the make up on her face. I can see that image as I type this, as if I have a photograph right here. And the candles blew and then disappeared. And she had no fear...Wayne