Time Machine Fun! – Bennie Bromstein Stuff From 1998

Have you ever wondered what sort of weirdo I was in the 1990’s? Before I was an international sensation?

Boy are you in for a treat. The following is from an issue of The Eyes of Bennie Bromstein from 1998, which seems like a whole other planet to me. Weird. There’s cursing, there’s weirdness, and prolly some embarrassing takes. Oh, boy.

This was angry, heartbroken, angsty me trying desperately to be way cooler and aloof than I could ever manage.

Here comes the angry 20-something.

 Don’t Be Afraid, This Is The Disclaimer

Hard to believe how long it’s been since Bennie closed up shop, getting close to, shit, two years at least. Bennie was basically mine and Jack’s little baby. He and I began it. We had just been screwed on another magazine we had done, something  called Ghoulash and when that washed out we were really burned out. We had put a lot into it and it crashed and burned for a lot of reasons. Too many. But that is another story. Maybe we’ll tell it one day. For now though, we shall stick to Bennie, the poor dead bastard that we’ve decided to resurrect. Basically this stems from the fact that we have taken a couple years off and still feel the desire to do this stuff. Me, I’d love to write for a magazine, but the odds I’d ever get hooked up with one are really long. And shit, why attempt to write what other people want you to write when you can just do your own thing? Especially with the web. I remember pushing out ‘zines and man was it a bitch. We printed the issues out of an office I work at and basically made as many as we could. I think we topped out at around eighty issues. It was a matter of us laying it out manually, printing it, laying it out in order, and then putting it together. Ugh. What a nightmare. Always took several hours. It was always a bitch. And we never got any feedback encouraging, or even discouraging us. It died because we were tired, and felt we were banging our heads against the wall and no one was noticing. But we always have missed old Bennie. Gentle Ben. Thanks to Jack, and thanks to the Wonderful Weird Web, we are back. We are still a skeleton crew, but hopefully that’ll change as we convert more and more people to the following and worship of Bennie Bromstein. I hope. Until then though we’ll be doing what we do best, which, honestly I don’t know what that is. I mean, you know, we’ll have our little reviews. And we’ll each generally have bitch pieces. And god knows what else we’ll do. The really great thing is that, much like Frankenstein, we are unbound. We have no real boundaries here. Which is scary. We’ll have an e-mail address up soon hopefully so we can get all the accolades from all you lovely people. And we may ask for submissions some day. Who can say? And hopefully we’ll start advertising this time out. No matter what though we promise to be us. And with any luck you’ll dig that. Give us a fair shake and we’ll do our damnedest to just be the kook-wookiest cats around. Ha. Like we can be freakier than the rest of the people on the web. Sure. We’ll be us. That’s what we’ll be.

            So, enough with this crap – on with it go.

Pete Anders, Words From The Grave –

            It’s a bitch bein’ dead. Lemme tell ya. I mean, ya gotta figger I been dead for, shit, well, a long damn time. And I tell ya this, it ain’t no fun be dead for this damn long with no change of drawers. It all looks glamorous and fun in the zombie movies. All eatin’ and wanderin’ around, and groanin’ and all that shit. Real fun. But it ain’t like that. I don’t eat people. I don’t eat no one. Sure, sure I bit a person or two, but the one woman liked it, and the other one, well, damn, I was hungry. But it was only a little nip. A little bite. Those sombitches in the movies eat people left and right. And them white zombies are damn lazy. I mean, shit, it was mean, I’d eat the motherfucker and then go and worry about the other fleshies. I suppose ya could say that some of them was thinking ahead and was storing fleshies for later. But come on, I can buy the zombies easy, and the dumb humans, sure, and the eatin’ and all, but raw? Who’d eat a damn person with no catsup or mustard? Or horse-radish sauce. That’s just preposterous.

And how the hell do them zombies get up out of the grave? I can tell you from first hand experience it ain’t no walk through a nudie bar. Shit, I was buried in a styrofoam box and was sunk only a few feet in the dirt and I had me a bitch digging my way out. And then I got stuck when I tried to make my grand entrance. Not many things more embarrassing than popping up from yer earthen grave and then getting stuck, and then having to have a fleshie help you get out. Damn. So I dunno what magice them movie zombies got that lets them pop out of a metal coffin and six feet of earth. I met a guy that managed to do that once, but then he was still alive when they buried him so I guess that’d give him the edge there.

            And then there’s them other zombies that are fresh dead and that’s fine. But they still ain’t real to life. Lemme tell ya. No respectable zombie stumbles around all slow and shit. Now they ain’t exactly runnin’ no marathons neither but we dead fellas got more coordination than ya give us credit for. I mean sure we’re all decayin’ and fallin’ apart. Sure. And yeah, our joints are a little stiff and all but we don’t walk like we got scissors up our asses. We kinda stroll. Kinda saunter. We take our time. We’re dead, what we in a hurry for? Like them oldies that are always ahead of you on the highway, they got nowhere to be, why hurry? See what I’m sayin’? Why rush things when yer the bad guy? That’s why villians are so damn slow. And so damn arrogant. Ya gotta stop them not vice verse there. Now we do happen to fall down a lot, but we make it look scary. Like we meant to fall. That we’re messin’ with ya. We could get ya any old time but we’re all crazy and mean and stuff.

            My last gripe with them zombie flicks is the whole notion that ya can kill us with a head shot. Ha. Sure ya can. You go shootin’ a zombie in the kisser and you’ll see just how damned fast we can move, believe you me. Don’t do nothin’ but piss us off. To really kill us off ya gotta, oops, what the hell am I thinkin’, ya’ll don’t need that kind of info. Hell no. Save that for me.

            Shit, now what I do wanna talk about, now that I dispelled them zombie misnomers is when I was cloned back in…what? What the? What you mean I is outta room. Well, why didn’t ya tell me before ya idget. Shit and a basket of gravy. Fuck it then. Yer cute little whatever it is you slackers call it. What? I get to come back soon? Oh like yer gonna stop me. Gonna censor me. Hell no. I…

…Anders, Pete…

HATING FOR FUN AND PROFIT – or -Good Will Hating-

Hey there. How the hell are ya? Getting all jittery and holiday-hateful? I can’t quite figure out why the hell it is that everyone looks so forward to this time of year and then when it comes they get all mad and stressed. Why? I mean, we all stress out for nothing. I actually like this time of year, and I actually like Christmas, though the bastardized sort of thing it has become, and the way I personally see it. For me it’s the one time of year we can all stop being selfish bastards and bitches and think of someone else. Take the time and effort to show the people we care for, love, and feel are special to us, and show them how much we care. And it isn’t about presents. Presents are secondary. Presents are just getting people things they want to do it. Because of the way it makes you feel, and the way it makes them feel. But presents-schmesents. It’s about showing the people you care for that, well, duh, you care. And for taking the time to get in touch with the people that you don’t see or talk to often enough. And it’s a time to celebrate the fact that dammit, we made it. We made it through all the stupid shit that fucks with all of us. We made it through the pain, and sadness, and heart-break, and all the other crap. Call me crazy but I like all of it. Hell, I even like the lights and trees. Ugh. What has happened to me?

On to other, more angry matters –

Christ I am sick of all the stupid shit associated with Marilyn Manson. I have never, and will never like him or his music. He’s a clown. But I respect that his right to say what he feels, and his right to sing what he wants. Because as much as I dislike him (add to that the fact that he is dating the goddess that is Rose McGowan, ugh!) he has as much right to speak his mind as I, or any other person does. Christ, ya ever listen to those blowhards on Capitol Hill? They get away with slanderous remarks all the time but it’s okay because of where they say it. I am so tired of parents, and teachers, and the religious right crying about what a bad influence he is on their children and humanity in general. As if he is presented himself, or thought of himself as a figure to emulate and look up to. Gimme a break. I remember a few years ago when basketball great Charles Barkley did something rather embarrassing and childish and was be-rated for it because he was considered a ‘role-model’. To this he laughed and told everyone that no, he wasn’t. He was a man that played basketball, and that was it. Well, it was something like that, what am I a book of knowledge? But he was right. Why should everyone have to live like a role-model? Some people set themselves up to be them, or are thrust into the position through circumstance, and some just are the kind of people you would want to model yourself after. Manson is not any of those. Maybe you can argue that he wants to be a role-model, or has been pushed into the job, but I am not so sure. He is a geek, but he doesn’t go out and tell people to do this or that. He just offers a vastly different view of things than what most people are used to. Or want to hear. Free speech is great until someone says something we don’t like. Manson is basically a voice for the lost and forgotten, but is he speaking for everyone? No. He speaks from what he knows and feels. Yes, what he says is very dark, and somewhat freaky, and is a little drug-addled, but so what? What right do we have to tell him to write happy ballads or sappy love songs? Christ, anyone hear any songs from the sixties? They weren’t singing about sex, and drugs, and revolution were they? No. Certainly not. I don’t agree with everything, hell most of what Manson does, but the core of what he is saying is that we all need to be who we are, and we all need to think for ourselves. And that I can agree with wholeheartedly. But that message is lost within the double-meanings and blasphemous imagery. Which is a farce. Everything he does is thought-out and planned and used to manipulate someone or something. He is a way-less talented Madonna. God knows what his religious stature is, probably atheist, but it doesn’t matter because he uses religion as a symbol. To great effect. He is a pretty clever fella actually though. But again, that is completely lost to what he looks and acts like. He’s a terrible man and a bad role-model they say. Well, one I cannot say because I don’t know him and won’t judge him as a person. But the other I agree with. But he shouldn’t be held as a role-model. For one, it isn’t his fault if he is one or not because his fans are all generally kids that want to be lead. And come on, let’s look at some other ‘role-models’ – the president, defend him as I will, cheated on his wife. Sports players continually show themselves to be more interested in the money than in the game. Teachers, having given up on any hope of reaching anyone just go through the motions. And come on, the Spice Girls as role-models? Gimme a break. They sell sex and archetype of what women are perceived to be (either sexy, or child-like, or bitchy, or tom-boy-ish, or just scary) as if these were things young girls should emulate. Argh. Manson is a rock and roller, a rock-star if you will. And basically, whether you like him or not, he shouldn’t be held responsible for what kids and adults alike do in his name or honor. We are all responsible for what we do and it’s a cop-out to blame our actions on what others do. Kids included. Kids are prone to emulate the people they are into, whoever they may be, but that doesn’t mean that these people should be seen as a straight-up role-model or is responsible for what the kids interpret as who they and their ‘heroes’ are. Maybe we should take more time in teaching kids how to be themselves and to think for themselves and not to take on, wholesale, the ideologies of the people they look up to. I wish people would just use their fuckin’ minds and shut the fuck up and stop adding fuel to Manson’s fire.

So here I am listening to the House Judiciary Committee’s Impeachment Hearings and it’s really fascinating stuff. I am not really into it for the whole ‘did he/didn’t he’ thing, something I talked about last time, to Glen’s chagrin. No, I like it because it is fascinating in a historical aspect. I am curious how historians of the future shall view all this. Besides, it’s the funniest thing on this time of year.

Goddamn do I hate collectors. Ugh. Well, let me clarify that – Goddamn how I hate toy collectors. Bastards. So here I am, your basic geek, and you know, I like toys. And I also like monster and horror movies. I was so freaked out that McFarlane was making action figures for Jason, Freddy, and Leatherface. Neat. So I waited and waited and waited for them to come out. Anxious to have their evil plastic effigies in my room. Finally, after months, the day came when they were to be released upon the public. Huzzah! Man was I excited. So I went during work to the local comic book shop, heralded over by the a-typical fat-fuck fan-boy, and found my prize. I quickly snatched up Mr. Krueger and Mr. Face and scanned the table for Mr. Voorhees. To my chagrin though he was not to be found. Aargh. Kinda sad and kinda happy I went and bought my little plastic pals. As I was paying though I asked the proprietor whether he was going to get another shipment or not, and to this he replied that he was going to order some and to check the next Wednesday, which brings us to the crux of this mess. So I call the next Wednesday and get this schmuck’s idiot wife who claims she has no idea what came in and didn’t (which is damn funny since 1) she works there, and 2) she has to be co-owner) so I talk to the main man, who says, nope, we didn’t get the order out try back next week. So, we flash forward much like Doc and Michael J. Fox and am at the next Wednesday. I call again and talk to the guy again and again, ummm, nope we didn’t get ’em try back next week. Fuck. So I call another place and they too say they have had them but run out quick. Which is fucked up because come on, how many Jason fans can there be. Because it’s today, and I have found Freddy and the lame Species monsters, but no Jason and no Leatherface. Fuck. Anyway – so the next Wednesday comes, last week, and I say fuck it and just go in the damn place to check for myself. I go to where they would be and don’t see them so I ask a clerk a simple question – do you know if you guys are gonna ever get anymore in. He doesn’t know so he pages the boss, who proceeds to bumble out and bitch the clerk out about it. Saying how he gets ten calls every Wednesday about them and he doesn’t know when or if they’ll get more and how he has told the guy all this a hundred times. The brother was a cock. I stupidly didn’t say anything because he was too much of a pussy to say this to me so I didn’t wanna say anything. I should have. Instead I thanked the clerk and left, pissed as hell. Which brings us to the moral. Man do I 1) hate fuck-rag comic shop owners. I mean, why is it that they get these shops to do business and to make money yet they piss all over themselves when they are asked a simple question. And I know how annoying it is when ya get the same question a hundred times, but that’s the fuck of it. That’s yer fuckin’ job. And how the hell do you not know what you have coming in? What, do you order a bunch of shit and hope it’s good stuff, or take what yer given? Idiots. But worse than those dicks are the assholes that collect that shit. And I don’t mean the people that like to read comics and buy the action figs, because that in itself is no big deal. No I hate the fuckers that horde every action figure, or comic, or bean-filled whatever that comes down the pike with the stupid hopes that it’ll make them a fortune. How pathetic. As if that is a justifiable investment. All I want is a damn Jason figure, which yeah, is no life-or-death situation here, but is stupid that I can’t find one. It’s a damn toy, that’s all it is, but some jerks feel compelled to go and buy up as many as they can lay their hands on and keep them in a closet so they can sell them at a comic convention for way more than they are worth. Aargh. I can’t wait until Wave Two of these damn things hits so I can stress out over getting a damn Dr. Giggles doll. Dammit.

Here is something to ponder – a question that has plagued me for too many years. And yet plagues me still. Is it possible to love again someone you once loved? To renew and make right a relationship that didn’t work? Or do we change too much to be able to fall in love with who they now are? Hmmmm. I wonder…

Well, Christ, I have wasted a helluva lot of your time so I shall go, but I am gonna try to get back in the swing and do this way more often. Been a while since we did this whole thing. But before I go I wanted to make it known that GLEN BIRDSALL and MIKE NURMI were also instrumental with getting the old Bennie up and running. There, ya happy Glen? Christ…

…transmission over…chrisringler…12.9.98…have a good holiday, don’t kill anyone…out…

What in the hell are you people?

Good question. With any luck we shall lure you further into our macabre manse and you shall find out the answer to that question yourself. But until then here is the rub – Once upon a time there was a printed fanzine that existed called The Eyes of Bennie Bromstein. It was a small affair made up of an interchangable cast of characters with a trio of demi-gods leading the way, Jack, Glen, and myself, the Invisible One. Unfortunately there was an unexpected attack from from some irritable Abdominal Snowmen and all was lost, including Bennie himself. Poor bastard. So, hearts and spirits broken we gave up the ghost and decided it was best to break up the Collective. But alas, there came a vision to me. A dream. And in it was Bennie himself, all tan and tone and lookin’ good. Damn good. And in that dream he told me that our work had to go on. We must continue to fight the Darker Forces of Chaos which had taken old Bennie himself. So here we are. A new year. A new medium. A new start. We offer the usual, lame-ass reviews, bitch columns, stories, and the usual treats and candies associated with this rigamarole. But i say this – we are not like the rest. Well, okay, we are. A ‘zine is a ‘zine for god’s sake. Give us a chance though, because as every snowflake looks the same, if you look closely you’ll se how different and special they each are. God, that was lame. Forget that. Ummm, if ya give us a chance, ummm, we’ll, uh, chant for you. Sure. Yeah. So, what are you waiting for? Come on in…

hating is an Art –

Hello. My name is Chris, and I hate.

First things first – Matt Drudge. What a fuckin’ joke. He’s what so-called Journalism has become. He acts as if he is doing the world a favor by ‘reporting’ all that shit he spews. Gee, thanks, I don’t get enough sleaze, innuendo, and general idiocy in my life. He has admitted to stealing stories. I saw him for the first time last night on Politically Incorrect. And he was a pompous ass. Acting as if his word is Truth and we are all fools to the folly of Clinton. Hardy-har-har. He seems to revel in the idea that people are Out To Get Him. No, they’re not. You’re boring. Yawn. Part-Journalist, Part-Tabloidist, he is all wind and no sails. Here’s an idea – let’s all spy on Drudge and all the other urine-ologists and see what they are doing when we can’t see them.

Is what he claims to know true? Is Clinton a letch? Beats me. I wasn’t there, so I dunno. Maybe Sludge knows his stuff. And maybe the prez fucked Lewinski and half of Pittsburgh, I don’t care. What I do care about is that this has been blown WAY out of proportion. If he lied, well, duh. Cheaters lie. If he cheated then he cheated on his wife, his daughter, and the American people. Now if he has been cheating is he a bastard? Yes. Hell yes. But unfortunately it comes with the preidency it would seem. I would love to see a person in there that is true and pure. But how many of us are? Why is he different? Because he is a president? Please. He is a man. A human. He is as fallible as anyone. More perhaps because dig this – he is el numero uno. El Jefe. He is it. And consider how many people want him and his favor. How many of us would turn down the sex, the power, the money, the greed? It’s easy to say we would be true and not fall prey to greed but then we aren’t there. We’re here. Now I am far from condoning any misconduct by Clinton, or anyone in power. They knew what they were getting into. They accepted the responsibility. They are our leaders and they should set an example of excellence. Humans are not perfect, and they shouldn’t be expected to be perfect, but they should be stronger than us and not fall victim to the stupid things we do.

Final thought here? Like I’m Springer now. All told, it’s sad that Clinton has been put through this. Guilty or no. But worse, it’s sadder that we the people have been put through this. This is pithy shit. Bullshit bi-partisian politics at its ugliest. Starr is a modern Mcarthy in his fanaticism. Wait until his term is done. Take care of it. Don’t make the nation and the people suffer this. And don’t embarrass the country with this idiocy.

Is it me, or are porn-actors the true definition of Method-Actors? I mean, the ‘script’ calls for sex, and they have sex. Full on sex. And it has to be acting. Not that I am any porn afficianado here, but even fucking can be a job. Sure DeNiro and Driver gained weight for roles, ha, but did they fuck anyone?

Here’s a real revelation – god I hate people. Whatever inherent Beauty we have we sully and soil with our greed and envy and lust and Wanting. Part of our Beauty is our fallibility. That makes us individual, and the successes, moral and otherwise, that much more precious. But it’s so sad to see kids waste their teen years fucking and getting fucked up. Watching adults fight like children in bars over laughable things. And when it comes to what we deserve, to survive as a species, vainly hoping we will advance beyond our more base desires. Or to disappear and never reappear. It scares me to know I am torn.

Something sad and strange popped into my head. You can fall madly in love with someone. So hard will you fall that all you want is them, all you see is them, they are everything. Life takes on a weird skew because no one understands what you feel. Sees the beauty you see. And that is love. And the fuck of it is this. You can feel all this for someone, know you are meant to be together, know it in your heart, and the other person can have no clue. Because you aren’t who they are looking for. And it kills you to feel it, to know it. To know they will go on and find what they seek. Hopefully. While you wonder what you did wrong, and what you could have done better. But no matter what you think, and what you do there is nothing that can change the fact that you feel robbed of something. That some great crime against Fate has been perpetuated, and you are left to wonder if what you felt was even real. Because if you were really meant to be together, why aren’t you?

What is it with kids, and I am not saying that as if I am an old man here, but I mean teens, and their goddamn hats. I swear, if I see another dopey fuck in a lame-ass fishing hat, thinking they look cool, I am gonna piss blood. It’s madness. Fashion trends alone are mad, I mean, big pants? Who thought that up? But these hats. Dear lord. It’s driving me mad. And I admit, I wear baseball caps a lot, a thing some people think idiotic in and of itself, but these silly, floppy, dopey hats they are wearing. AHHHHHHHH! I just wanna scream.

Remember, words are just words. And in that I mean that what a person says has no danger behind it. The danger and hurt comes in the awareness that these words can cause damage, and the force with which they are used.

And last but certainly not least, Road Rage. Sounds like a new video game doesn’t it. What a silly description. Road Rage. God. What is it that has all of a sudden made humans so damned stupid? All of a sudden we are doing everything possible to destroy ourselves. We take and keep jobs we hate. We stay with people we don’t love. We hurt those we do. And we go out and do evreything possible to get to where we gotta go for whatever petty reason we feel we need to be there in hurry. Do I speed? Hell yes. I am no saint. I am a prick, and I am the first to admit it. But I will not put myself, and my friends in danger to get somewhere. And yeah, sure, speeding is dangerous, I guess, but that is a separate matter. So is drinking alcohol but I am leaving that alone, let me make my point. So sure I speed when I am in a hurry, we are an impatient race and the better technology gets the worse we get. But again, I will not knowingly put anyone’s life in danger. Bring us to yesterday. I am driving along to meet someone. I am in the passing lane, passing a car. I look in my rear view mirror and all of a sudden there is this huge black Cherokee a foot from my bumper. The guy rides my bumper a few seconds and then slams on the brakes. So I pass the car and am furious. I am in no way a fan of living but was astounded this dick did that. Sped up to get on my ass to force to get over. It was out of my way, or else. So, I waited until he was flush with me and flipped the prick off. And what had he done but waved. Either in thanks or to be a dick, either way he was a asshole. I don’t care if his mother had shit out her intestines and was dying, my dad cut two fingers off a couple summers back and I didn’t flip out. So he freaked out and slammed on the brakes and rode alongside me. I never looked at him because what does it prove if we get in a swearing and hand gesture contest? I wanted to let it go and move on. Not him. He swerved over into my fucking lane, the fucking nut. I didn’t budge because as I stated above, like I care if I kick. It’d be on him all the way. Afterwards he sped off and was gone. But to think this guy intended to scare me or run me off the road after I flipped him off. That was all I did. And he was in the wrong. Say I do swerve and there is a car on the side of the road. I die, and maybe some other people do as well. Or I over-compensate and smash into another car? Over what? Nothing. I had friends that would track down people they had felt had done them wrong on the road. I was pissed and called the cops but I didn’t chase him. And what is the scariest thing? It has become so common that my mother scolded me and asked what I would have done if they’d have had a gun. To think we are in a time where a slight on the road can lead to your death is astounding. Frightening. So what do we do? We chill the fuck out man. Christ. Let it go. Life has too much stress as it is to always freak out over every little thing. We are so obsessed about not being shit on, or losing, or being one-upped, we are willing to make a larger mistake in the end. We are losing sight of what matters. We need to address this situation often and early. Show the results in driver’s training like they show all the other highway tragedies. Chill out motherfuckers. Jerk off. Get laid. Something man, just chill the fuck out.

Last thing. I was told this – ‘Get as much pussy as you can’. Nice idea no? That advice was given me a few days back. But I put it to you this way – what is better, quality or quantity? Meaning, is it better to have a lot of notches on the bed post, or some warm memory of someone you shared something special with. My advice? Love without regret, or thought. And live for you.

Until next time…chrisr…transmission over…out…eight.ten.ninety-eight…

Them Freaky Deaky Monster Movies –

Here’s a fact about me ya probably figured but may not know, I am a movie geek. A huge one. And within that realm there are certain movies that get me right away, and are my favorites, and those are horror films. Don’t ask me why, they have always just held a warm spot in my heart. I remember seeing Friday the 13th at the Drive-in when I was six. It was neat. Maybe that was what got me hooked. I love the dark-side though. It’s too easy and gets boring for me when movies are all candy and flowers. There is a lot more to horror films than people allow them credit. They show you a dark side. A side of life that many times does exist but many choose to ignore and run from.

Now granted there are some really bad horror films out there, and the home-video market hasn’t helped any. You would think it would allow a lot of smaller film-makers and more independent companies the chance to reach an audience, and it has, but it has also allowed a lot of shit through. A lot. The crappy thing is that horror seems to run in trends and cycles. A movie will really reach people and then all the studios will try to figure out the formula and copy it. That is happening now with Scream. And in a few months, once most of these copy-cats have been forgotten horror will go back into the dark and it’ll be a while again until horror films pick up again.

What is upsetting me most at the moment is not the Scream-fever that has struck everyone but the fact that people, fans, want another Halloween film. Not giving anything away let is just say this new one has an ending. A great ending. Let it go. Let the film die. I love the Halloween series, always have, but it needs to end. They did a classy, good film. Let it stand as that. It was as close to the original as they could get. In my heart I want this to be the end for old Michael. But from the rumors I am seeing, it isn’t gonna be that way. Greedy old Akkad, keeper of the Halloween’s keys seems intent on not letting the series go out on a high note. Instead they are talking, and I say this is rumor that they want to do at least one more, with Curtis returning. Why? The point of the last film was that she needed to overcome Michael and his curse to live a real life. She has always run from him and now she had to face him. What purpose will this one serve if another is made? Christ. I am going mad. I liked Scream, and I have liked the two movies said to be Scream-a-likes. Call me lame. I look at all the movies as they are. Maybe I have bad taste. But I know when to call it quits. I love the Friday the 13th films, but I knew it was time to end it. And I like that they did. Same goes for old Freddy. There comes a time when it just doesn’t make sense to go on. Why? What more is there to say? I wish, if they were so desperate to make another Halloween film that they’d just use the name and make a ‘Halloween’ film a year. I mean they should make a Halloween-themed film every year. Good scripts, good actors, good directors. I am sure they could do it. And how could they not make money? But no, they wanna stick with what they know and drive the already low opinion people have of horror films, even lower. Whatever. It makes me very sad to think that the fans want this. That is what upsets me most. That the fans can’t let it go. They feel like Michael cannot die. He is evil and just cannot be killed. Christ. He is a character. In a movie. Let it go. So be it. They will do it with Halloween, and soon with Hellraiser, and then with Candyman, and who knows what else. Maybe if Freddy V. Jason is a hit they can make another one. I can get into the fact that Blade, and Scream are parts of trilogies, if they let the films die that is. We’ll see. But come on, where are the new ideas? The monsters to give us chills? The films to make us see them again and again, stunned at how good they are? Scream didn’t kill horror. And sequels haven’t killed it. But what has is laziness and complacency. They make one movie and keep making more of it. Sad. I love this genre, above all, but it saddens me how lame it can be. Horror doesn’t have to be about hapless teens, and bare-breasted bimbos, and lame killers that have a one-liner for every murder. I am hoping someone realizes all this and gives us something to make us all remember why we love horror in the first place. I have seen some good stuff lately, some really good stuff, but I have yet to see something that scares me and makes my jaw drop, and until that happens I guess I shall wait. And hope.

Part Deux –

I have a laserdisc player. I am not bragging, just stating a fact. And being that I have one I am privy to some swell special editions of films. These SE’s come with commentary from the director, or others either involved with the film, or that are considered ‘experts’ on it. And some SE’s come with alternate takes of scenes, and even deleted scenes. The coolest ones are the Uncut or Director’s Cut versions of films. These are the versions horror fans especially live for. To see a film as it was intended to be but wasn’t because of the censors. So, being a horror kid, and a laserdisc afficianado I have decided to sorta make a list of things I wanna see come out on laser. I will try to elaborate as to what I want from the films when necessary. So, here we go –

Chris’ Dream Lasers –

*All of the Dario Argento Films. The man is a god. I love his films and it’s a sham that all you can find here in the states are gutted versions of his masterpieces. It’s time he got the due he deserves. They have released his first film The Bird With the Crystal Plummage on a widescreen tape and disc finally, now it’s time for the rest to follow.

*All of the films of Lucio Fulci. Same goes as above. Lucio isn’t the stylist or director of Dario but he always did films with flair and creeps up the wazoo. Some are greats, some are clinkers, but he deserves his due, as do all the directors outside of the states. There is a wave of Lucio fever right now thanks in part to the successful summer midnight run of The Beyond, lets hope it last long enough to at least get the best stuff out.

* Nightbreed. Clive Barker’s second film proved to weird for the studio behind it so it emasculated it and released it cold. It was received rather limply and has never gotten the attention it deserves. Clive wanted to re-create the monster movies of the early days. I think he did just that. But from what I understand there were around twenty-minutes cut from it that have never been put back in. I had read once that Barker had wanted to put the scenes back in but that it would be a job considering they’d have to cut the stuff back in and re-insert the music again. If he is still interested, I would love to see the film he had wanted us to see. The way it was meant to be seen.

*All the Friday the 13th films. This is sort of a personal wish more than anything else. Yes, these are not great films, and eight is atrocious, but I am dying to see them in a widescreen and uncut form. Most of them got ‘X’ ratings when submitted to the MPAA and thus had to be cut short. These are gory films, I think it’s only right that someone re-release them as they were made. They were neat, fun movies, and half of the fun was the cool kill-scenes. I anxiously await the day I can see them all with all the grue intact.

*My Bloody Valentine. I know, another slasher film. Sorry. I love this movie though and would love to see a re-mastered print of it. I read that there was some stuff they cut out and that the director wanted to do a special edition. I would love to see it. It’s a neat little slasher gem that has a lot of personality and deserves to be cleaned up.

*Black Christmas. Nope, not a Blaction film of the seventies, but another slasher film. Well, we’re in that neighborhood, I figured I’drop in on an old friend. This and Twitch of the Death Nerve were the ones that started it all. This is an amazing film that actually does freak you out and created the whole ‘call the victim on the phone’ thing. But the tape transfer looks like shit.

*Bad Taste & Meet the Feebles. Come on, these are classic Jackson films, and the commentary would be awesome. And it’s really hard to find them to boot.

*All of Carpenter’s films. There has been a wave of his films coming out in special editions, thankfully, but there are others yet to do. Until all of his films are restored to their Panavision glory I shall not rest. Well, I am plum out of ideas for the moment. I am sure I have a heap of other movies I wanna see done cool-like, but there is always next time. Well, have fun and don’t let anyone tell you horror isn’t neat. They probably bought Titanic the night it went on sale anyways. Ha.

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