Halloween Countdown: October 17 - rolling bones

I dunno, I think it's kind of necromantic!

Well, I thought it was funny.

In all seriousness, she is a bit on the skinny side and terrible at making conversation, though I have been told that the sex is fantastic.

XTC - Poor Skeleton Steps Out (from Oranges & Lemons, 1989) - If there's one thing I have learned from a life of popcult immersion, it's that "xylophones = skeletons." Vibraphones, too, though the verdict is still out on the marimba's association with the restless dead.

Halloween Countdown: October 15 - American nightmare

Pick at the scab of American society and you will reap a rich harvest of pus blooms.
Forget ghosts and ghoulies and the other assorted things that go bump in the night, true horror wears a human face and resides much, much closer to home.

Dead Kennedys - Saturday Night Holocaust (from the b-side of 1982's "Halloween" 7"; collected on Give Me Convenience or Give Me Death, 1987) - Every day, in every way, the world lurches a step or two closer towards the nightmare world Jello Biafra envisioned.

At least we're making progress on something...

peculiar indeed

What's this you say? You're running low on nightmare fuel? No problem, I've got something that should carry you until the next service station of unquiet dreams...


Don't worry about returning the favor, friend. It's the least I could do.

Naz Nomad & The Nightmares - I Had Too Much to Dream (Last Night) (from Give Daddy the Knife, Cindy, 1984) - In which The Damned's garage-rockin' alter egos barnstorm through the Electric Prunes' psychedelic classic from 1966. Don't let the mediocre reviews by garage rock purists put you off -- this album is retro-revival done right.

if power's all they really understand

There was a time when I made an active effort to keep up on the various comings and goings on in my areas of interest across the world wide web, but as my free time has dwindled over the past couple years, I’ve gotten to rely more and more on a handful of trusted linkblogs to pre-separate the wheat from the chaff for me. This is especially true for comics-related blogs and websites. There are simply too many to keep track of, and even Google Reader isn’t much help in organizing and prioritizing the endless flow of posts.

One of the most useful comics-related linkblogs is When Fangirls Attack, a well-curated and regularly updated clearinghouse of links to blog posts and articles dealing with feminist and gender-issues in the comics scene. Ragnell and Kalinara do a great job in presenting an inclusive collection of views, kept free of their own personal biases (which is how topic-themed linkblogs should ideally be. I’m an avid reader of Antiwar.com, despite the paleo-conservative/libertarian ideology of its maintainers because they make the effort to include a wide range of articles and commentary on the subject from across the political spectrum).

So when Dorian, the man behind the always-entertaining Postmodernbarney, started up Comic Gays, a linkblog along the lines of WFA, but with a focus on LGBT issues and subjects in the comics scene and related areas of fandom, it was welcome news, indeed. Even if the actual reach of the comics blogosphere is far smaller than what many of its members assume, it’s great to see new avenues of discussion open up, especially in areas where they intersect with egalitarian principles. There’s a strong current of knee-jerk conservatism in fandom which needs to be roiled from its ingrained opinions. Besides, a flippancy-free discussion of homosexual subtext in Silver Age romance comics makes for far more interesting reading than yet another shrill “DC is raping my childhood (by not publishing stories mirroring my fanfic)” rant.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before the linkbaiters crawled out of the woodwork. For those not up on hip ‘net lingo, linkbaiters are the Japanese beetles of the blogosphere’s rose garden -- folks who write deliberately provocative posts in hopes of getting their site/post referenced by the relevant linkblog. If one were to create a widely-read linkblog dedicated to ham sandwiches, five will get you ten that there will suddenly be a marked increase in blogposts concerning that particular comestible. It’s a quick and dirty means of generating attention (and hits) closely related to that “NOTICE ME” fan pathology I discussed yesterday. It wouldn’t be so bad if these attention-starved voices had something to add to the discussion, but all too often their remarks tread into the realm of outright trollery, being either contrary for the sake of getting attention or just skitching behind the issue du jour. The sincerity of writer (and in too many cases, sadly, the views expressed are sincere) matters less than the ready-made opportunity for virtual face time.

The Rondelles – Pay Attention to Me (from The Fox, 1999) - Sure, as long as you're communicating though femvox indie pop, and not through incoherent rants about why "femisitim" or "guy marrige" is harmful to society.

I’ve had a few of my posts linked to on When Fangirls Attack, but never did I sit down and begin writing with that being the express purpose of the piece, although I can usually predict what will get picked up by the site. (The exception being the Satin Satan post.) I write a lot of comics-themed posts and I’m a strong exponent of egalitarian principles; it’s a given that the streams will cross every so often. That said, I’ve been trying out to figure a way to get a post linked to by Comic Gays. I don’t watch Torchwood (though the ads are intriguing), I tend to steer clear of out-of-context “OMG Batman is SOOO gay for Superman” vintage comic panel humor (because only a rare few can do it right), and the posts I have made about gay rights issues are straightforward political polemics. The trollery route is right out, as I really don’t have it in me to convincingly play the part. (I can’t even bring myself to take the Dark Side path in the Knights of the Old Republic games.)

What’s a poor aspiring link-baiter to do except discuss Carol Channing’s performance in the 1968 flop Skidoo and its lingering effect on my psyche? Skidoo was Otto Preminger’s attempt at the most failure-prone of genres, the counter-culture comedy. Many ambitious directors tried their hand at pulling off such a feat, but even the best of the lot (Head, a bizarre and confusing self-skewering of The Monkees) fall into the category of “interesting failures,” and Skidoo doesn’t even reach those modest heights with its mix of familiar character and comedic actors (Jackie Gleason, Groucho Marx, Carol Channing, Mickey Rooney, among others) and very 60’s drug culture humor.

A critical and financial bomb upon its release, Skidoo became a legend among aficionados of cinematic trash, with the lack of a VHS or DVD release boosting its allure. I managed to acquire a copy a few years back, and finally got a chance to compare the legend to the real deal. It wasn’t the worst film of its type -- an honor that goes hands-down to The Phynx, an attempt to combine The Monkees with an endless parade of celebrity cameos. Skidoo didn’t so much pain me with its incompetence as cripple me with a sense of embarrassment for everyone involved. The feeling I got watching Jackie Gleason trip out on LSD and Groucho Marx smoking reefer was the same one I felt when my mom got tipsy on port wine and sang an out of key rendition of “Smooth Operator.” (Or watching Street Fighter: The Movie and realizing that this was Raul Julia’s last film role. Or seeing Robert Vaughn in TV ads for ambulance-chasers.) It’s a painful, but not an insurmountable experience for the hardened schlock enthusiast familiar with the mortifying sensation of witnessing People Who Should Know Better doing terrible things on screen.

If that were all the film had to dish out, it would be just another seen it/survived it/bragged about it bad cinema experience, but just when you think you’ve survived the worst, it pulls out a particularly nasty shiv from the waistband of its BVD’s and proceeds to twist it repeatedly in your gut.

I don’t have an opinion of Carol Channing one way or another, except as one of the familiar popcult presences of a 1970’s childhood, but her performance of the Harry Nilsson-penned “Skidoo,” at the film’s finale is the raw stuff of which nightmares are made. Something about the way her trademark raspy voice wraps itself around the chorus unlocks a deep-seated sense of primal terror within me, especially in conjunction with the manic choreography, relentless grin, and pirate costume with which she accompanies the song. It all leads to the bedroom, where it is implied that her character and Jackie Gleason’s will bump ugiles.

Sweet Blessed Providence, I’m going to have to sleep with the lights on tonight, and I just know that won’t hold off the night terrors.

Carol Channing & Harry Nilsson – Skidoo/Goodnight Mr. Banks (from the Skidoo OST, 2003)

no paprika required

Hi, folks!

I’m Squiggy, or as Andrew likes to call me “the Hideous Raw Stuff of Which Deep Emotional Traumas Are Made.” “Squiggy” rolls off the tongue better, so let’s just go with that for now.

Andrew’s wife attends a lot of yard sales and church fairs, and brings home a lot of inexpensive trinkets, stuffed animals, and other assorted junk she finds in those places. Little did she know that the box of figurines she purchased at a sale last week contained the embodiment of all that is unholy in anthropomorphic ovoid form.

Don’t I have just the cutest pair of eyes? They’ll be the last thing you see before I slice open your carotid artery as you lay unsuspecting in your bed. Or I might just jam a meat skewer up your nostril and into your frontal lobe. A true artiste ought to keep his creative options open, right? In any case, my hellish high-pitched cackle as I sacrifice your soul to my dark masters will be the signature on the infernal canvas of bloodletting.

Oh, and if you were thinking of getting rid of me by tossing me into the pond or out with the used kitty litter on trash day, don’t bother. I’ll be back inside and safely ensconced on your knickknack shelf before you even step inside the front door. It’s one of the perks of doing the work of the dark gods.

Sleep tight, kids! Hope to see you soon!

Hugs, kisses, stabbing,

Squiggy

(Editor’s note: The price of gasoline may be spiking at the moment, but unrefined nightmare fuel is still going for $1.50 per cardboard box full.)

Land of Giants – Cannibal Dolls (from a 1982 single) – No affiliation with Irwin Allen or Roger Vadim, this is a rather nice bit of obscure Canadian coldwave.

Jerry’s Kids – Satan’s Toy (Reprise) (from Kill Kill Kill, 1989) – Another day, another This Is Boston Not LA alumnus. This is from the band’s second album (released six years after their 1983 debut LP Is This My World?) by which time their ultrafast, brutal hardcore assault had morphed into what I can only describe as a vague, metallic analogue of Flipper in places, with overpolished nods to their old sound in others. (They do a decent cover of Le Peste’s “Spymaster” on the album, too.)