I can’t spend much time on this post – Halloween is callin’ my name! But I just wanted to make sure that OL represented this video in some way. Truly the best Star Wars related happening since 1983. Before watching, just realize that you will never see something as amazing afterward.
[(Ewoks+Alcohol) x (Karate+Moon Walk)] x Live Television=
So here it is, the Halloween Episode of OCTOBERFEAST. Rather than diving right into the concluding entry, I just want to wish everyone a Happy Halloween. For real — this holiday is such a blast and I really feel bad for anyone who can’t enjoy it. I just spent the afternoon at the Bruins/Oilers game with Caffeine Powered & our cousin, and I saw children and adults alike dressed in various costumes. Behind a Skrull mask, I realized that it really takes a true asshole to be against a day dedicated to dressing up, eating candy, and celebrating. While watching the Bruins emerge victorious was enjoyable, the real entertainment came from spotting Hulk Hogan, Darth Vader, the Super Mario Brothers and other heroes in the crowd.
The occult, theatrics, and potentially subversive messages have weaved their way into the fabric of rock & roll. Heavy music seems to be one of the few venues in which it is not only accepted but expected that Satan is embraced in one form or another. Unfortunately, most of the well-known bearers of rock’s horror-torch are more style than substance.
KISS? Don’t even get me started on these guys. Any time that someone suggests that they even qualify as heavy metal, I get a stomach cramp and have to use the restroom. Knights In Satan’s Service? Heaven’s on Fire? Bah! Don’t make me puke. This guys are nothing more than merchandisers who use shitty music to push the product.
Alice Cooper? Marilyn Manson? Sorry, but since I’m not thirteen years old I’m not falling for your tricks. Yes, Alice, I know that singing about school being out forever is a great way to start summer vacation. But as far as being a dark shepherd of the underworld…somethingtells me that he lacks credibility. And as far as Cooper’s successor/rival, Marilyn Manson — I just don’t buy it.
Amidst a slew of half-baked, barely worthwhile horror-themed rockers stands one man and his music. Yes, he certainly dabbles in supernatural themes such as witchcraft, ghosts, Satan, hauntings, religious corruption, madness, and the like. But this performer has always surrounded himself with excellent personnel, thereby backing up his ghoulish persona with legitimately rocking tunes. Really, if you consider yourself a fan of heavy metal you should probably own at least one of his records.
No, I’m not talking about Ozzy — the man of the hour is the one and only KING DIAMOND.
King Diamond is a goddamn force of nature. Shrouded by spooky black & white makeup, Diamond has commanded the stage for both his own eponymous band and its predecessor, Mercyful Fate. With these outfits, King Diamond takes the listener through twisting tales of depravity and terror, often requiring an entire album to do so. Take, for instance, King Diamond’s The Eye, which tells an interwoven tale of witch-hunts and sexual assault committed by Church officials. Thematically, there is no question that King Diamond is a champion of OCTOBERFEAST.
More importantly, though, is King Diamond’s vocal proficiency. The King assumes various roles throughout his songs, sometimes speaking as a creepy grandma, an executioner, a priest, or even a child. Although a master of this sort of performance-vocal, King Diamond also belts out a falsetto wail of which banshees can only dream. King Diamond has set a standard of screeching to metal that modern bands can only match with extensive assistance from Pro-Tools.
King Diamond’s influence on the world of heavy metal is undeniable. Anyone that believes King Diamond to be unappreciated within the metal world just needs to remember the showcase he was given on 2005′s Roadrunner United. Injecting technicality into good songwriting and combining it with a thick slice of macabre, King Diamond has created an amazing body of work. I strongly suggest that you check out Abigail, “Them” and The Eye.
To rock out — watch the first video, a live rendition of the title track Abigail.
To be creeped out — watch the second video, King Diamond explaining a portion of The Puppet Master.
I am a diseased man. It’s the truth, and I’ve learned to live with it. The fact of the matter is that I have been diagnosed with Raynaud’s Syndrome, a condition whose effects are somewhere in between AIDS and Motaba. As a consequence of this extremely super-serious medical condition, I have less-than-ideal circulation in my hands and feet.
In other words: I can’t feel my fucking hands in winter.
Don’t worry, I’m fine. To combat this terrible affliction, I (wear gloves and) look to sources of inspiration. For awhile I really admired Michael J. Fox, whose struggles with post-temporal-shifting have been highly publicized. Then I started looking up to Michael Jackson, a man who continued to do good in the world despite being bombarded by baseless accusations of child endangerment. But today, in the liquor store, I came across a new person to whom I can devote my allegiance.
Scanning the cooler for a sixer of something new, I was pulled in by a label of what appeared to be a cartoon fisherman rowing a boat. “Hrm, Frosty Knuckle Ale,” I pondered, “that sounds interesting.” I picked up the brews and began looking for more information. To my delight, a short narrative was included:
In January 1883, while fishing deep in the North Atlantic on a schooner out of Gloucester, MA, Howard Blackburn and a dory mate were separated from their schooner. Adrift in the wintry conditions, Blackburn knew his hands would freeze, so he held them to his oars to allow him to continue to row toward the mainland. Five days later without food, water or sleep, Blackburn made it to the coast of Newfoundland. After losing his fingers to frostbite, Blackburn returned to Gloucester to a hero’s welcome. Unable to work in the fishing industry any longer, Blackburn opened a saloon and became popular with townspeople and seafarers alike.
Inspired by and brewed with the same courage, character and determination of Blackburn, we introduce Frosty Knuckle Ale, a tribute to seafarers, barkeeps, and local characters who always have a story to tell. Drink up and Enjoy!
Standing there in the beer section, I couldn’t help but be impressed. I bitch and moan after five minutes of shoveling, and Howard Blackburn purposely froze his hands to oars so that he could spend five days rowing himself to safety. Feel free to write Blackburn’s name on any Free Pass for the Rest of Life list you may be keeping.
I didn’t give a fuck what the beer was actually all about; I was utterly defenseless to this marketing ploy. The Frosty Knuckle Brewing Company had me sold and there was nothing I could do to change that. But I figured that since the company is based out of Ipswich, Massachusetts, even if it sucked I was giving my money to local vendors.
Fortunately, Frosty Knuckle Ale doesn’t suck. In fact, it’s a pretty good brew. Pouring it into a glass and giving it the hold up to a lightbulb and pretend that I really know what I’m looking for test, I took note of its clear amber complexion. There wasn’t much of a head at all, and when I tried to take a whiff of the beer I found myself struggling to find much of anything at all.
Gulping the beer down, however, proved to be both easy and enjoyable. Frosty Knuckle Ale has a very well-balanced, even flavor. It is fairly light and goes down as easily as iced tea, but contains a bit of a kick. Not much, and I might not even notice it if I weren’t looking for something, but it’s there. This ever-so-slight tang makes this brew refreshingly refreshing (how’s that for a shitty pun?).
Although I’m holding off tonight, I can see myself drinking Frosty Knuckle Ale while watching a sporting event — it is light enough to allow for extended consumption, but flavorful enough to keep me entertained. I can just imagine taking a swig of the beverage in between bites of buffalo wings and nachos, cooling my burning mouth and making my smile beam just a little brighter.
Damn. I’m seriously so in lust with pub-grub right now. I would kill a man for an appetizer sampler.
On its own, Frosty Knuckle Ale is a pretty good brew. In the right situation, it could very well be excellent. In the future, I may amend this grade after pairing the beer with some food. But for now, I am going to award a solid, 85% – B.
Through all of its events, OCTOBERFEAST has been a commemoration of not only pop culture’s most terrifying and vile aspects, but the genuine joy derived from them as well. Just as Young Frankensteinillustrates, the combination of horror and comedy creates a synergy only rivaled by peanut butter and chocolate. But as much as I love Mel Brooks’ monster-movie homage, it is essentially a comedy that happens to use horror characters. In truth, there exists a more even balance of horror/comedy/adventure.
Perhaps the best example of this cinematic joint-effort is Army of Darkness. Sam Raimi’s 1992 movie is the third (and best) part of the Evil Dead Trilogy. This concluding chapter picks up right where Evil Dead 2 left off — Ash, a man who has battled the possessed corpses of former friend on two occasions, has been transported to Medieval England. In order to return from the year 1300 CE, Ash has to retrieve the Necronomicon (the book of the dead featured in both predecessors). Of course, this means getting involved with warring bands of knights and battling the undead.
While this may sound like a decent flick in and of itself, the beauty of Army of Darkness is found in the protagonist Ash Williams. Unlike most heroes, Ash is kind of an asshole; he runs his mouth, tells people off, and is always trying to help himself out. Take, for example, his response to the once-possessed Sheila’s attempt to apologize for her former actions: “First you wanna kill me, now you wanna kiss me. Blow.” Such one-liners, delivered by the amazing Bruce Campbell, are nothing short of genius.
Shit. Forgive me if I’m backpedaling here, but I feel like I need to pause for clarification. Ash is great not only because he’s a charming douchebag, but because he pushes the limits of ridiculous. Just contemplate this — when first appearing in Army of Darkness, Ash has a chainsaw attached to his hand. Also, he is a big fan of his shotgun, to which he lovingly refers as a boomstick. Observe the following:
But Ash isn’t the only redeeming quality of the movie. Army of Darkness succeeds in its willingness not to take itself too seriously. Sure, there are monsters and dead bodies and all that creepy stuff. But everything in the movie is treated with a slapstick sensibility; as a result, the entertainment value is doubled, as every scary monster evokes waves of hearty laughter that is usually only heard during Three Stooges episodes. The cheesy, campy nature of Army of Darkness puts it a step above others, showcasing the fact that the movie is first and foremost intended to entertain.
I’m fairly certain that I haven’t done Army of Darkness justice. But if you believe in the power of OCTOBERFEAST, you can believe in this movie. I mean, seriously, there are lines like Yo, she-bitch! Let’s Go! & Hail to the king, baby.
Tonight is Halloween Eve — I plan on watching Army of Darkness. You should too.
In the last few decades, the scientific community has come to a general consensus regarding OCTOBERFEAST: Goth-kids love Halloween. While their dark wardrobes, crummy poems, and pasty complexions are usually frowned upon, Hallow’s Eve provides Goth-kids a rare chance to flaunt their woe-is-me approach to existence. I guess this is a good societal release valve, providing a safe outlet so that real mistakes are not made.
So sure, we concede a bit of a loss during OCTOBERFEAST. We allow each teen inaccurately diagnosed with depression to wear a different Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie every day. We put up with thirty-one days of ghetto-blasters blaring Boys Don’t Cryand overzealous students begging us to attend the Drama Club’s performance of whatever. And for an entire month, we understand that staying out of Hot Topic is a decision made to ensure physical safety.
But all these concessions are made so that the inmates don’t overtake the asylum that is OCTOBERFEAST. In reality, there is some pretty cool Gothic-inspired shit in the world. In addition to his rampant alcohol and drug abuse, Edgar Allen Poe should be commended for his body of work. Despite writing in the Gothic style, Poe gave us fucking classics like The Fall of the House of Usher, The Tell-Tale Heart and The Raven. So by giving the weirdos a month-long recess, they can be marginalized the rest of the year; and as result, they don’t completely taint the world of Gothic entertainment.
While Poe is one worthy representative of the American Gothic, he is trumped by a Brooklyn-based powerhouse. This entity has demonstrated that you can be into glum shit without being a totally despondent a-hole. The band at hand manages to sing about girlfriends’ girlfriends, asking a girl to be a druidess, and being set on fire in a strangely energetic and uplifting manner.
In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m referring to Type O Negative.
Type O Negative’s special brand of metal distinguishes itself by incorporating morbid lyrics into doom-and-gloom music. For instance, the creepy keyboards sound more like an old-school organ played in a cathedral where priests trains for exorcisms. On top of these are guitars that vary between ambient, groovin’, chuggy, or even thrashy. But perhaps most identifiable are Peter Steele’s low, brooding vocals.
Take all of the above attributes and use them to serenade a Goth girl. The result?
Black No. 1 (Little Miss Scare-All)
This is one of Type O Negative’s most well-known tunes, and with good reason. Musically, the eleven-minute track oscillates between straight-ahead verses, poppy sing-a-long choruses, hard hitting sections of hate, and truly beautiful bridges. Oh, and they also manage to sneak in the theme to The Addams Family.
Most appropriate for the OCTOBERFEAST, however, are Steele’s lyrics. At times, Black No. 1 seems to be a real love fest for freaky-ass, pale girls. And then, the song turns on a dime with declarations that loving the woman in question “Was like loving the dead/ Was like fucking the dead.” Surely, not what I’m planning to drunkenly croon at my wedding but pretty fucking awesome.
For a better idea of the song’s theme, check out this excerpt:
I went looking for trouble
I found her…
She’s in love with herself.
She likes the dark
On her milk white neck.
The Devil’s mark.
It’s all Hallows Eve.
The moon is full.
Will she trick or treat?
I bet she will.
She’s got a date at midnight
Oh baby, Lily Munster.
Ain’t got nothing on you.
Well when I called her evil
She just laughed.
And cast that spell on me.
Boo Bitch Craft.
Yeah you wanna go out
’cause it’s raining and blowing.
You can’t go out
’cause your roots are showing.
Dye ‘em black.
Fuck it, I’m making a huge decision: consider Black No. 1 the officialtheme of OCTOBERFEAST. So in the next few days, take every opportunity to blast this tune as loud as possible while stuffing candy corn into your face.
Albeit an abridged version, check out the music video for Black No. 1:
This has to be some sort of karmic handjob. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. But get this, true perverts and readers of Omega Level:
Bayonetta’s US release date is: My motherfucking birthday, January 5, 2010. Is there a more fitting gift, than something I have been fapping over for eons? THANK YOU NETHERGODS.
I spent a good amount of time rambling about the cost/benefit analysis of importing the Japanese copy of Bayonetta, as opposed to waiting for a US release. At the time, from what I had read, signs were pointing to January 29, 2010. Well, that shit changed, via PR today:
In the week that SEGA of Japan releases the Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 action game BAYONETTA, SEGA Europe Ltd. and SEGA of America Inc. can reveal that the perfectly rated and eagerly anticipated third person action title will be the first genuine triple A of 2010. Offering exclusive pre-order items for the western market, BAYONETTA goes on sale in the US on January 5th and across Europe on January 8th 2010.
Oh, the tricky lord and the binds he puts me in. My Bayonetta lust is well documented. Not just for the hottie, but for the game itself. Well, it comes out today in Japan. And in the Empire? We’re not getting it until January 29, 2009. Which is fucking awful for me. Why, you ask? For starters, Mass Effect 2 comes out. And secondly, I’m going to be smack dab in the beginning of the semester. Awful situation? Sure. Sort of.
And then yesterday I found out that the Playstation 3 version isn’t just going to be region free, everything is going to be in fucking English. Holy shit! I don’t know what happened that the good lord smiled upon me like that. Except he did it with a wink. Even though I could play it on my PS3, and even though it’s in English, I hesitate.
Because it’s the PS3 version.
Don’t groan, I ain’t even hating. It’s been well-documented that Kamiya and Platinum Games have very little to do with the port to the PS3. Like, almost nothing. In fact, it was the 360 version that received the perfect score in Famitsu, while the PS3 lagged behind by a couple of points.
So here’s the bind: Do I snag the PS3 version from Japan, early? Or do I wait until I can get the “perfect” version in January for the 360?
Let’s be honest, there’s no way that the PS3 is vastly inferior. It scored only two less points that the 360 version (a 38 as opposed to a 40), which indicates it is at least in the same ballpark. And I mean, Jesus Christ, it’s in full English! How the fuck can you beat that? The alternative is waiting until January. Three days after Mass Effect 2, in the middle of a semester, and like, two weeks before Bioshock 2. Why the fuck is the winter becoming the new late Fall as far as video game releases? Not even cool bros, not even cool.
Speaking of the Fall, even the Japanese release is ill-timed for my gaming habits. I’ve barely touched Borderlands, I’m stuck in the crack habit that is WoW. And then there’s Modern Warfare 2, Left 4 Dead 2, Ratchet and Clank, Assassin’s Creed II, et cetera, et cetera. In fact, while I was initially indignant about the lack of a simultaneous release – no, not Bayonetta and myself, duh! – it sort of makes sense. It would have been buried under the glut of other titles poppin’ off.
Still, it’s hard to rationalize waiting. Bayonetta is sitting out there for me. Right now. She’s beckoning. She’s wearing leather and booty shorts and swimsuits! For me! No seriously, I got an e-mail for me. It said:
I’ve been released. Now it’s time for you to open me up, and do a little releasing of your own.
That’s what she asks me to call her when we’re making love on the astral plane. And I do.
This blog opened up with an AVATAR post, so I suppose it makes sense that I follow the movie. The theatrical trailer has hit the interwebz and well? Yeah, well! I don’t know. I can imagine people who have been frothing over this like it was the equivalent of their Bayonetta are going to be dissapointed. It doesn’t look like the second coming of, you know, anything. That said, I think it’s got some potential. I’ve soured on the look of the natives after realizing I’m expected to emotionally connect with them. And the dialogue, intelligently removed from the teaser, makes it seem like George “Shitty Dialogue From A Washed-Up Fuckface” Lucas had his hand in it.
That said, the visuals are bonerfying, and this is all without it being in 3D. Check it out for yourself after the jump.
OCTOBERFEAST is the celebration of that which makes the tenth month of the year superior. Of the last twenty-seven entries, I’d like to think that some have been outside of the normal considerations. However, as with any tradition, there are certain staples that become so ingrained as to become fully synonymous with their host-event. Unfortunately, this often leads these staples to become taken for granted and underappreciated.
To thwart an egregious oversight, I present Jack O’Lanterns.
Yes, the doorstop sentry of every house on the block that celebrates Halloween — the Jack O’Lantern. In truth, the very concept of this illuminative device is fucking insane. Just think about its construction:
4) Put a candle inside, light that shit up and put the top back on.
If you didn’t know about Halloween and someone gave you the above instructions, you’d think about reporting terrorist activity. But as a part of the OCTOBERFEAST, Jack O’Lanterns are rad.
I mean, seriously — even before having their bodies mutilated, pumpkins kick ass. They provide another porch decoration for the suburbanites of quiet desperation who are just trying to outdo their neighbors. Pumpkins, of course, also bring us pumpkin-pie. The pie can always be washed down with a cold pumpkin-brew. And who doesn’t love munching on pumpkin seeds after they’re roasted and salted to hell? The answer — Nazis.
But seeing a pumpkin mature into a Jack O’Lantern? It is a wonderful feeling. I don’t have children, but I can’t imagine that hearing a baby’s first word is cooler than transforming a pumpkin into this. Turning a vegetable into a hilarious or creepy torch is a goddamn talent.
I’d like to think that it isn’t even necessary to point out the importance of the Jack O’Lantern to Halloween. But something tells me that there will be plenty of dingbats who walk right past the orange bowls of fire. Go out, grab a pumpkin, and turn it into something sick.