Got My Tickets

While not quite the insane San Diego ComicCon, the Philly burbs have hosted a more genre-specific Fan Con called Monster-Mania Con for nearly 30 years, at a convention center in the South Jersey Upper-Middle-Class Philly burb known as Cherry Hill, NJ.

When Uncle P was a kid, the Cherry Hill Mall* was the largest and first of its kind. A trip there with Auntie and Grandmom meant coin-operated and ticketed kiddie rides; endless exploration of the late-60's and early-70's version of Pier One Imports; a new pair of something and maybe a toy (if we were exceptionally well-behaved). After the NJ State Fairgrounds in Trenton closed down, the NJ State Fair was moved to the Cherry Hill Race Track, though these days it is held in North Jersey at The Meadowlands and the old Fairgrounds are now the rather amazing Grounds for Sculpture, which I highly recommend visiting once every few years. But, I digress.

It has been nearly 30 years since Uncle P attended a fan convention. It was 1985 and my sister and I went up to Manhattan (can't remember f I drove or we took the train) to attend Fangoria Magazine's first ever Weekend of Horrors. It was... well, you can imagine. This was early on in Fan Cons and most of the space was taken up by vendors. We made sure we attended George Romero's Day of the Dead panel, where we caught a sneak preview that wasn't immediately shared on an internet which didn't quite exist, yet. And it was amazing. We met and spoke with Horror Icons Tom Savini and Michael Berryman (both of whom were lovely and appreciative of their fans); I bought books and a t-shirt. We got lots of free buttons (including a Back to the Future button I probably should have hung onto) and generally had a good time. Though we found ourselves to be... well... the least nerdy duo in attendance, that day. And while there were maybe a dozen or so cosplayers there, the term had yet to be coined and they stuck out like sore thumbs. 

On Saturday, August 16th, I will be attending Monster-Mania Con with two co-workers: My sweetly and identically insane Mia (creator of Teddy-Z) and the newest addition to our department, Chris B. Chris is a sports guy (go Phillies!); a far less-obsessive movie fan than Uncle P (honestly - his lack of the Essentials is appalling - but I'm going to take care of that) and a fellow performer. I think the three of us will have ourselves a grand time and cannot wait to attend my first modern Fan Con! I'll make sure my phone is charged and will take lots of pics!

If you haven't figured it out by now, yes, I am a HUGE Horror geek and can't wait until we go! I'll also be asking my compatriots to restrain myself when it comes to shopping...

More, anon.
Prospero

*Uncle P started my 20 years of purgatorial retail life at Bamberger's, in my local Oxford Valley Mall.

Snow Day

Winter Storm Janus: Punishment for Christieism

I blame NJ Governor Chris Christie for Winter Storm Janus and the subsequent traffic snarl it caused yesterday afternoon, everywhere. If the fundies can blame me, then I get to blame some one, too. In truth though, the germ of the idea for this post came out of a Facebook status I posted last night, so forgive me if I'm repeating part of this. 

We all knew the storm was coming and the first tiny flakes started to fall yesterday morning just as I reached the last traffic-lighted intersection before arriving at the Day Job. At 11:00 I took my morning smoke break (yes, I know) and notice the plant across the way is closing, as cars begin to make a mass exodus from the lot. I came back to my desk to find an email from HR announcing we were closing at 1:00 (No lunch breaks, please). All well and good. The snow is light and easy to get off my car and I'm on my way by 1:12. It wouldn't be until 1:49 that I even got out of the town where the Day Job is located! The ride that normally takes 20 to 25 minutes and can sometimes take 40 to 50  minutes in bad weather, actually took me well over ninety minutes. And all because every other company along the I95 corridor closed at the same time and sent out millions of vehicles out onto snow-covered roads with hampered visibility. When I finally got home, after bitching about the weather and the traffic and the need to shovel, I sort gave in and resigned myself that this was happening and at least I'd gotten out early and would get a Snow Day out of it (an unusually high 2.5 this season). Which got me thinking about how I went from loving Snow Days as a kid to hating them as an adult. 

When Uncle P and his sister were kids, our Mom loved Snow Days, because it meant we got to stay home and she could play with us. We'd bundle up to go out and play in the snow; come in to warm up and dry out and have PB&Js and Campbell's Chicken Noodle soup and then go out for a another hour, until our faces were red and our noses runny. Then it was inside again where warm towels from the dryer waited for us wrap up in while leaning against the boiler's hot brick chimney. Then came hot cocoa and some sort of activity at the kitchen table. Colorforms; Shrinkey-Dinks; Spirograph; paint-by-numbers; coloring books and crayons; watercolors... always something creative to keep us busy until it was time for her to start making dinner in time for Dad to get home. 

Today, was not at all that kind of Snow Day. Sis's Sister-in-Law's son (say that three times, fast), who I've just started to get know and now refer to as my "Nephew-in-Law," came and shoveled me out today, and when I went to get money to pay him, he skipped. I texted him "No fair!" and he texted back "You're family!" Of course, when he helped me this past Monday to put the new battery in the car I'm trying to sell, I stuck a twenty in his pocket when his hands were busy and he had no choice. I'm going to make him some cookies or brownies or something. He's a good kid and I am appreciate my BIL and his family's (especially his sister and her son) kindness more and more, all the time. So, while I could have done any number of things today, including cleaning; painting; inventorying and purging the chest freezer (among others), I instead hibernated until after 10:30 and then vegged out on a "Tattoo Nightmares" marathon on Spike. And while I have 4 episodes of "Dracula" on my DVR, I'm not sure if I'm really willing to continue with the slow-moving plot that seems to have bogged it down the last few episodes I did see. 

So after dinner (the last of the chicken and hush puppies from Sunday) it was off to Netflix and the film version of a story I first read online: John Dies at the End. David Wong's online novel about time-travel; metaphysics; alternate universes; demons; mystical drugs and artificial intelligence (among other things) is transformed into a just-as-weird film by co-writer, director Don Coscarelli, creator of the equally weird Phantasm series. But this is also Coscarelli's homage to other genre directors with nods to Carpenter; Cronenberg and Raimi as told by Lovecraft. Produced by and co-starring Paul Giamatti, Coscarelli and David Wong worked on a script that both managed to connect some of the missing dots in Wong's novella, while maintaining its gonzo sensibilities. Add cuties Chase Williamson and Rob Mayes as leads Dave and John; genre fave Clancy Brown as a charismatic preacher/exorcist (he's so powerful, he can expel a demon over the phone); the often-used but rarely seen Doug Jones (Pan's Labyrinth; Hellboy); a cameo from Angus Scrimm (Phantasm's 'Tall Man') and loads of physical gross-outs and FX (plus an animated sequence that is both gross and hilarious) and you end up with a strange and often hilarious horror movie with two characters who deserve a sequel. *** (Three Out of Four Stars).

So, that was my Snow Day - some nostalgia; sleeping in; bad tattoos and a fun, weird horror movie I've been wanting to see that turned out to be actually pretty good. I may be too old for sledding and snow-forts, but you're never too old to appreciate a lazy day and then ramble on about it like anyone else really cares. 

Did you have a Snow Day today? What did you do or not do, today?

More, anon.
Prospero

A Different Kind of Shocktober

Ossified Flamingo, Tanzania

I hate that I missed posting on October 1st. Of course, Uncle P is dealing with a bit of real life turmoil. My mother has been hospitalized for a week and a half now, with no indication of when (or if) she might come home. The staff at the hospital is terrific; her doctors have been wonderful and I have never felt kept in the dark about what's going on. I just wish none of it was going on. Uncle P, for the first time in his life, is feeling rather helpless and ineffectual right now. But I must say that I have a rather amazing support team among my friends who are (and will undoubtedly continue to be) helping me through.

Of course, that does nothing to diminish my love of all things October, including the onslaught of cable channel Horror movies. Marathons of Friday the 13th and Halloween movies abound, no matter how good or bad they are. 

As part of this year's decidedly different Shocktober, I've decided to just make some suggestions of movies you might enjoy as part of the season. And I've decided to start with one the season's best holiday-themed movies, Trick 'r Treat. An anthology of related stories, writer/director Michael Dougherty managed to create an Internet sensation with his long-delayed movie filled with terrific performances from the likes of Dylan Baker, Anna Paquin and Brian Cox (the original screen Hannibal Lecter) while providing some of the best scares and hilariously ironic moments in Horror Movie history. If you've never seen it, you owe it to yourself to do so. 

A sequel has been bandied about, but I won't be holding my breath.

More, anon.
Prospero

Superstitious

Today is Friday the 13th. Or, a randomly assigned date on the Julian calendar with no real significance other than a way to keep track of the Earth's revolution around the sun. Of course, for millions of superstitious people, Friday the 13th is a day to be extra cautious. They avoid walking under ladders; stay away from black cats; don't open umbrellas indoors do their best to not break mirrors. Friggatriskaidekaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th, the origins of which are unclear, but probably date back to the early 1800's, when just about everyone was religious. According to Christian mythology, Jesus died on a Friday after having been betrayed by his 13th disciple, Judas. 13 is also an unlucky number in Norse mythology involving the mischievous Loki who turned up as the uninvited 13th guest at a dinner in Valhalla.

Even as a kid (when I believed), I was never very superstitious. Being in the theatre (out of respect for my fellow actors who are superstitious), I do avoid saying  "Macbeth" in a theatre, if only to keep my cast-mates from freaking out - even though the production of Macbeth in which I played Ross was completely free of problems, injuries and/or technical glitches. And Friday the 13th is nothing compared to some of the superstitions people hold around the world. Here are a few of them (via):

Spit on a new (baseball) bat before using it for the first time to make it lucky.

It's bad luck to put a hat on a bed.

To protect yourself from witches, wear a blue bead.

It is bad luck to light three cigarettes with the same match. (This is from WWI, when the glow of a match lit long enough to light three cigarettes could reveal your location to the enemy)

It's bad luck to leave a house through a different door than the one used to come into it.

To drop a fork means a man is coming to visit. (I better start dropping forks!)

If 3 people are photographed together, the one in the middle will die first. (But what if you are in more than one picture of 3 people?)

If you leave a rocking chair rocking when empty, it invites evil spirits to come into your house to sit in the rocking chair.

Do not place shoes upon a table, for this will bring bad luck for the day, cause trouble with your mate and you might even lose your job as a result (Uncle P's mother insists it is bad luck to put new shoes on a table).

If a woman sees a robin flying overhead on Valentine's Day, it means she will marry a sailor. If she sees a sparrow, she will marry a poor man and be very happy. If she sees a goldfinch, she will marry a millionaire.

The number of Xs in the palm of your right hand is the number of children you will have (This childless gay man has three).

The list goes on and on. And superstitions vary from country to country. For example, the seventh son of a seventh son has magic powers, according to Irish folklore, but is a vampire in Romanian legend. 

Here's the thing: it's all nonsense. There is no such thing as magic. There are no supernatural forces controlling your life. Eating 12 black-eyed peas on New Year's Day will do nothing but send the peas' nutrients into your system and playing with a Ouija board will not invite Captain Howdy to possess you. There are no such things as vampires; werewolves; demons; angels; Bigfoot or chupacabras. Fairies exist only in Disney movies; handling toads does not give one warts; cats don't steal babies' breath and repeating "Bloody Mary" three times into a mirror in a dark room will not cause an evil spirit to leap out of said mirror and kill you. Wearing special underwear will not help you win a game or land a role in a play for which you're auditioning. A rabbit's foot key-chain is just a preserved bit of a dead rabbit and a four-leaf clover is simply a genetic anomaly. Blowing all the candles out on your birthday cake just means you have good lungs and wishing on a falling meteor or a coin tossed into a fountain or well is as effective as playing special numbers in the lottery (i.e. not effective at all). Wearing green on game day does nothing to help the Eagles win; rubbing a lamp will not release a djinn who will do you bidding and kissing the Blarney Stone will only transfer germs from the 10,000 other people who kissed it that week. 

If you believe in any of the above-mentioned nonsense, I feel sorry for you. Get over it and get on with your life, already.

Still, Friday the 13th makes for some great horror movie fodder:



You're all doomed.

More, anon.
Prospero