[Werewolf Trilogy — Part III]

Holy shit, we’re nine days away from Hallow’s Eve, summit of the mountainous OCTOBERFEAST. This is the season of decaying matter and yet life never feels more invigorating. Wait until the sun goes down and step outside — bathe in the cool autumn air, breathe in the fragrance of crumpling leaves, and try to feel anything less than excited to be alive.

I dare you.

To round out the Werewolf Trilogy, we’re going to explore the notion that werewolves are fun-loving party-goers. While manhunters and bitch-mothers are small subsets of the community, most are just looking for a good time. Seriously. For example, this werewolf just wants to snort lines of blow. And this werewolf loves to shred.

Perhaps the best expression of this animalistic debauchery is found in Every Time I Die’s We’rewolf. Keith Buckley (genius that he is) masterfully outlines what it means to go through an evening as a wolfman.

An excerpt:

It’s a full moon, denim is tight, and flannel shirt is freaking out.

Run for your life, cover your eyes, I don’t want you to see me party this hard.

I’ve got a bone to pick with the morning sun and the first last call.

But I didn’t put my hair in a pony tail for nothing,

So if I’m going home alone I ain’t going at all.

Yea. In the wild kingdom you don’t live until your ready to die.

Which one of you sons of bitches is gonna make me feel alive?

Which one of you motherfuckers is gonna get inside my heart?

Is gonna give me a heart attack?

Look away it’s too much to bear. I’ve been bitten by the party animal.

Save yourself. Save yourself. Tell my baby that I love her so.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I gave the world one hell of a time,

And I don’t regret a thing except for the times that I got caught giving it.

I never thought it would take. I had thick blood and cynical skin.

To where are you supposed to escape when the creature is lurking inside of you?

We all want to be werewolves, drinking beers and doing fucking headspins well past the witching hour. We want to resist the idea that our lives are run by suits and squares who only give us 2/7^ths of the week to enjoy ourselves — and only so we don’t freak the fuck out.

Unfortunately, most of us are never fortunate enough to transform into mythical human/canine hybrids. In fact, most of us feel the need to blast ourselves in the heart with the `ole figurative silver bullet before we even consider living the werewolf life.

We should all take a note from Every Time I Die — periodically taking the opportunity to throw caution to the wind in order to live a life that defies rigid structure and routine. I’m not saying to be a fucking weirdo for the sake of it, but to give yourself the chance to occasionally allow your inner animal to surface.

It’s OCTOBERFEAST – use this time to be whatever the fuck you want.

Watch Every Time I Die – We’rewolf in Music    |    View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

[Werewolf Trilogy – Part II]

OCTOBERFEAST is in the midst of an unrelenting assault, driving home the idea that vampires need to take the backseat to werewolves. As detailed previously, werewolves are the ultimate monsters, the worst monthly visitor one could allow into the home (ok, maybe the second worst). In any case, the werewolf is the manifestation of humanity at its most primal –  the fulfillment of base desires through rockin’ violence and sex.

However, there is a caveat to be issued. While the werewolf dominates other monstrosities with ease, he can be defeated. In fact, his very undoing  may be traced to a member of his own species, a culprit whose cunning is only matched by its nefarious nature.

Of course, the creature I’m writing about is the infamous She-Wolf.

To the best of my knowledge, the She-Wolf is essentially the female equivalent of the werewolf (with a much cooler sounding name than Werewoman, Wolfwoman or even SheWereWolfMadam). However, the She-Wolf is actually more powerful than any werewolf because she possesses better attributes, such as breasts and a vagina.

See, wolfmen are just like real men in the regards that they’re fucking morons. As a result, even wolfmen are more apt to think with their penises than their brains when in the company of a procreative mate. I’ve seen it a million times — a werewolf will be on his way home from terrorizing the village and he’ll run into a She-Wolf who “just happens” to be wearing a weird outfit that shows off her buttcheeks.

“Oh, hey there Mr. Muscles!”

“Argh!?”

“Yeah you. I’m supposed to run into that house and eat the grandma. But I’m afraid that I’ll break a were-nail. Do you think you could do it for me? I mean, I hate to ask but you look so strong…”

“Woof-woof-OF COURSE!!!”

It’s disgusting, using sex appeal to get one’s way. On the other hand, I do admire the craftiness of the She-Wolf. And so does Dave Mustaine, singer/songwriter and former junkie. Mustaine dedicated a track on Megadeth’s Cryptic Writings album to lady-lycanthrope.

The 1997 She-Wolf serves as a warning:

The mother of all that is evil.
Her lips are poisonous venom.
Wicked temptress knows how to please.
The priestess roars, “Get down on your knees.”

The rite of the praying mantis.
Kiss the bones of the enchantress.
Spellbound searching through the night.
A howling man surrenders the fight.

One look in her lusting eyes,
Savage fear in you will rise.
Teeth of terror sinking in –
The bite of the she-wolf!

My desires of flesh obey me.
The lioness will enslave me.
Another heart beat than my own,
The sound of claws on cobblestone, I’m stoned.

Beware what stalks you in the night!
Beware the she-wolf and her bite!
Her mystic lips tell only lies!
Her hidden will to kill in disguise!

So there you have it — undeniable evidence that even werewolves, the most severe of OCTOBERFEAST threats, are toppled by the She-Wolf.

From Woodstock 1999 (you know, the terrible one in which shit caught on fire):

I’m sick of vampires. Absolutely fucking sick and tired of vampires. Don’t misunderstand me, I think the concept of vampires is sick and Bram Stoker’s Dracula is fucking rad. But the last year and a half has produced an absolute frenzy over Transylvania’s emigrants — Twilight and TruBlood have officially piqued public interest and a slew of imitators have followed suit. Unfortunately, most seem to be poorly executed.

As it was alluded to on Saturday, OCTOBERFEAST has chosen a different monster for this year’s festivities. THE FEAST is first going to deliver an extra-garlic pizza to Pop Culture’s house and drive a stake through his blackened heart when he opens the front door. Then the true October-beast will look to sky and scream victoriously.

Today marks the first day of OCTOBERFEAST’s Werewolf Trilogy — a musical homage to the underappreciated world of wolfmen. [Note: I am purposefully ignoring the upcoming Wolfman flick with Benicio Del Toro, the Underworld series, and many other misrepresentations. Just roll with me on this one.]

The first installment of the Werewolf Trilogy is Metallica’s Of Wolf and Man. While I may resemble one when I go shirtless, I don’t have the benefit of knowing what it is that goes through the head of a werewolf. However, James Hetfield did us all the favor of penning lyrics to address such a curiosity. An excerpt:

Off through the new day’s mist I run.
Off from the new day’s mist I have come.
I hunt –
Therefore I am.
Harvest the land,
Taking of the fallen lamb.

Off through the new day’s mist I run.
Off from the new day’s mist I have come.
We shift –
Pulsing with the earth.
Company we keep,
Roaming the land while you sleep.

Shape shift – nose to the wind.
Shape shift – feeling I’ve been.
Move swift, all senses clean.
Earth’s gift – back to the meaning of life.

Bright is the moon high in starlight.
Chill is the air cold as steel tonight.
We shift –
Call of the wild.
Fear in your eyes,
It’s later than you realized.

Don’t try to tell me that Of Wolf and Man is about some return to the primal essence of humanity, the shedding away of all the worthless constructs with which we deal on a daily basis. It isn’t. The song is about a goddamn werewolf. Told from the werewolf’s perspective.

Again, I’ve never turned into a werewolf. But listen to the beginning of this track and try to tell me this isn’t a perfect transformation theme. First the guitar comes in, then the snare drum and floor tom start pounding away, and before you know it a fucking wolfman starts talking. Seriously, close your eyes and listen — do you seriously imagine anyone other than this guy talking?

Don’t take my word for it, watch the video below — Of Wolf and Man, performed (sloppily) in 1993. Be on the lookout for  Lars’ beard and a terribly cheesy  Newsted-howl.

File this one under drive-by posting.

I’m just stopping here to once again give props to George Zapata. After writing this entry in which I heaped all sorts of (well-deserved) praise, the aspiring artist emailed me to express his gratitude. I giggled to myself, thinking it ridiculous that someone so talented would be so appreciative of a lowly blogger recognizing the obvious.

And then I came to my senses. I had to ask,  “Hey, do you do commissions?”

In a matter of weeks Zapata was able to take my idea, provide me with rough sketches, make the appropriate alterations and send out the final copy. Due in no small part to his professionalism and skill, I am now the proud owner of a sick Morrison-era JLA sketch. Additionally, the price was very reasonable and I stand behind every dollar spent.

If I can figure out a way to scan it, I  will proudly  showcase this piece of original art. `Tis gorgeous.

But more importantly, make sure you check out GZapata for yourself.

DeviantArt

Website

Blog

As you know by now, OCTOBERFEAST is a celebration of the depraved, socially-subversive and utterly vile aspects of society. It is the allotted time in which we can openly revel in horrors otherwise reserved for the solace of an empty house. Casting aside the societal-pressures by which they are bound, every individual is encouraged to use OCTOBERFEAST to rejoice in the most delightfully despicable of activities.

So it only stands to reason that OCTOBERFEAST takes a detour into the terrifying world of professional wrestling.

In and of itself, pro-wrestling is fucking horrifying. The premise behind this hillbilly-phenomenon is that a bunch of oiled up steroid-junkies pretend to engage in an athletic event. In the process, there are entrances with theme music and pyrotechnics, fights with ladders, and a total disregard for referee safety. It’s madness, total madness. What type of person would actually watch this?

Of this already strange, bizarre world, the persona that best fits into the OCTOBERFEAST menu is inarguably the Undertaker. The Undertaker, as a serious athlete, is a supernatural being who defies that with which he is most fascinated: death. When Undertaker debuted he was accompanied by the also cleverly-named Paul Bearer, a pale slob who carried around an urn which contained the wrestler’s power! Rounding out the Undertaker’s macabre personality are his signature finishing moves, the choke slam and tombstone piledriver.

Even if the Undertaker wasn’t a kinky ghoul, his trademark matches more than qualify him for an unpaid internship position at the OCTOBERFEAST. The Casket Match sees two combatants squaring off until one manages to seal the other within a coffin. There’s the  Buried Alive Match, in which the Undertaker beats ass and then  uses the  training from his first career as he buries you alive (how morbid!). And last but not least is the Hell in a Cell Match — the wrestlers fight within a modified steel cage and act in such a manner as to give the impressionable youth plenty of bad ideas.

The idea of an actual servant of the Devil receiving state sanction to compete in athletic league is ludicrous — that’s why it fits into OCTOBERFEAST. I haven’t watched pro-wrestling in years, but I hope the Undertaker is still busy burying opponents and conjuring evil spectres.

For your amusement — an Undertaker match from 1990:

Born in the in the middle of Reagan’s second term, I can’t honestly say I knew what the hell was going on until the early 1990’s. And even then, a lot of cool shit (like the Spice Channel and Through the Never) went right over my head. It’s an unfortunate fact but I might as well have not even lived my first six years.

However, there were two figures so ingrained within pop culture that I couldn’t help but recognize them. Although their respective franchises had already started to descend, their ability to affect my six-year-old sensibilities did not dwindle at all. In my childhood, there were two indisputable manifestations of terror:

Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees.

Take a giant, undead monster with an unquenchable bloodlust and put him behind a hockey mask. Then give him a machete and a penchant for hacking up doofuses. Occasionally, include a back-story that touches upon his being a semi-retarded child who drowned in Crystal Lake. The result? Jason Voorhees of the Friday the 13^th series.

Even more frightening is Freddy Krueger from A Nightmare on Elm Street. Krueger is a former child molester/murderer who was burned alive by a mob of pissed off parents. Of course, Freddy is then somehow able to infiltrate the dreams of the townsfolk and kill them in the process. If this weren’t horrifying enough, one must remember that Freddy rocks a glove with four knives on it, wears a creepy striped sweater and adorns a fedora. A fedora!

So, if my childhood was haunted by these icons of horror, why include Freddy vs. Jason in the OCTOBERFEAST? Well for starters, that fact that Krueger and Voorhees scared the piss right into my bedsheets is a testament to their effectiveness. If you walk out of a horror flick completely unafraid of its antagonist, chalk that movie  up as a failure. While there are certainly some duds in the  Friday the 13^th & A Nightmare on Elm Street collections, the best of those franchises are some of the best.

Secondly, 2003’s Freddy vs. Jason finally gave fans what they had been begging to see for years. The burn-victim-nightmare-killer and Lennie-from-Of Mice and Men-with-a-goalie-mask dominated the American horror scene throughout all of the 1980’s & 1990’s; it was natural for people to want to see them go toe-to-toe. Same idea as Superman vs. Batman or Godzilla vs. King Kong — you take the two greatest and have them duke it out! Even the producers of the series knew it was only a matter of time — just consider the teaser placed at the end of Jason Goes to Hell (posted below).

Really though, Freddy vs. Jason is a fun movie. There’s no bullshit philosophical musing, nor did the producers puss out and settle for a PG-13. Instead, the viewer is treated to ridiculous murders and plenty of excuses to pit the two villains against one another. It does exactly what it was expected to and does it well.

Lastly, Freddy vs. Jason makes it into OCTOBERFEAST because it is the collaborative swansong for both franchises. After this 2003 effort, both Friday the 13^th and A Nightmare on Elm Street would be subjected to bullshit Hollywood reboots. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no “purist” and I definitely think restarting a franchise can be an excellent decision (*ahem*Batman Begins*ahem*Casino Royale*). But in the case of both of these series, I’m calling shenanigans on reinvention.

Grab a bag of candy corn, pound some apple cider and watch Freddy vs. Jason. If for nothing else, you get to hear Kelly Rowland say, “What kind of faggot runs around in a Christmas sweater?”

I rest my case.

OCTOBERFEAST has shown a more merciful side today, granting access to an entry that had been already been cut twice. During the drawing of the initial list, this film came up but was then excised in favor of its predecessor. The second draft of the OCTOBERFEAST lineup saw the formation of the WEREWOLF TRILOGY (we’ll get there in a few days) and so the movie was scrapped in the hopes of avoiding redundancy.

But here we are — in the midst of an OCTOBERFEAST miracle! Maybe it’s because I’m a sucker for Jason Bateman or maybe it’s because it is the best film of 1987, but there’s no way I could not present Teen Wolf Too!

Written by Jeph Loeb (yes, the same guy from yesterday), Teen Wolf Too is about a teenager who is struggling academically, socially and athletically. His life is in the toilet and he just wishes there were a way to take a stand. Then, he finds out he’s a werewolf and everything gets better — just like it would in real life.

Teen Wolf Too is pretty much the exact same movie as Teen Wolf — except instead of Michael J. Fox doing his best to be the alpha-dog of the high school basketball team, we have Jason Bateman (playing his cousin) doing his best to succeed on the college boxing team. Purely speculating, I’m sure that Michael J. Fox was asked back for Too but preferred to spend two years preparing to finish the McFly role in Back to the Future II & III. It’s called method acting, duh.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about this at all — in my book, two 1980’s flicks about teenage wolfmen is definitely better than one. This movie has all sorts of great shit to keep you watching: boxing on par with any scene from Rocky, dance sequences, and the always wonderful Mark Holton. I imagine that if I were to pound a few brews, put on a Gary Numan record and try to shirtlessly write a movie, the result would be similar to Teen Wolf Too.

If you’re not too proud to embrace the cheese that got America through the Cold War, watch Teen Wolf Too.

Friday — this, of course, means time to drink beer.

Unfortunately, for the past two days I have felt terrible. I don’t usually get sick, so when I do I like to think that the ship has finally hit the gigantic fuckin’ iceberg. Maybe I’ve got Swine Flu. Or polio. Or something.

Probably not though. What I should do is relax, go to bed early and get ready to feel better in the morning. But, it’s Friday and that means I have to fulfill a promise I made to you to consume alcohol and report on it.

Regardless of what alcoholics tell you, drinking when you’re sick will not make you feel better. You may smile a bit a more, but after passing out you will wake up feeling worse than drunk and sick — this is synergy in action. So it was with some trepidation that I approached the taking of my weekly drink.

Keep Reading »

In case I haven’t told you, comic books are one of my favorite things in the world. Without exaggeration, I would argue that comics are just as artful as any other medium and provide a generally unrivaled integration of image and word. There is no experience quite like flipping through the pages of a good comic, becoming drawn in by paneled wonder and storytelling mastery.

With such a zealous appreciation, it only stands to reason that OCTOBERFEAST would include a serving of sequential art. I contemplated this decision for some time, trying to figure which funny-book would make the cut. At first, I though about including the Halloween-beatdown of Hollis Mason from Watchmen, but then realized that would be opening a can of worms with which I’m not quite ready to deal. Then, I considered submitting a review of the best/worst comic book Halloween costumes but that wasn’t really what I wanted to go for either.

And then it hit me. Hard. I felt like a fucking buffoon for not thinking of it right from the get-go:

The Long Halloween

One of the many collaborations between Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale, The Long Halloween is a thirteen-issue miniseries that follows Gotham City’s Dark Knight for a full calendar year. Starting and finishing on Halloween, the series sees a mysterious killer known only as Holiday claiming his victims on…well, holidays. The defenders of Gotham do their best to prevent the monthly massacres, with mixed results. At conclusion of The Long Halloween, Batman (and the reader) comes to the realization that justice may not always manifest in easily recognizable forms.

It is Loeb’s storytelling that truly sets up The Long Halloween for success. This is Jeph Loeb in his prime — crafting a murder mystery that keeps the reader guessing until the very end (and even after). Taking place in the formative years of his crime fighting career, Loeb takes Bruce Wayne through the rigors of doling out cans of whoop-ass to Gotham’s underworld. With the help of Captain Gordon and District Attorney Dent, Batman combats a mob empire comprised of the Falcone, Viti, Maroni, Gazzo, Sullivan, and Skeevers families. It is a dense tale full of interconnection, but Loeb pulls it off.

Loeb’s written story is only surpassed by Tim Sale’s illustrative execution. With the main players of the Rogues Gallery at his disposal, Sale gets the opportunity to put his signature stamp on much of the Bat-Universe. While I typically equate Sale’s art with the aesthetics of cartoons/animation, I think his performance in The Long Halloween  steps into  more realistic territory. Looking back on it, I remember being particularly struck by the use of shadows and negative space. Before being the best part of the lackluster Heroes, Tim Sale routinely rocked comics — The Long Halloween is undeniable evidence.

Even if you’re too much of a dingbat to check out The Long Halloween, you have probably still enjoyed its main themes and plot. Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins and The Dark Knight both liberally borrow from The Long Halloween:

A young Bruce Wayne trying to get his footing as Batman? – Yup.

A mob war threatening to take over Gotham City? – Yup.

James Gordon, a rare example of excellence in the GCPD, rising through the ranks?  -Yup.

“I believe in Harvey Dent”? — Yup.

Batman, Gordon and Harvey Dent working together…until a horrible accident disfigures Dent and changes the nature of the relationship? – You bet your ass.

The Long Halloween is a meaty text. But it’s a worthwhile one. As a limited series featuring only the most recognizable figures of the Batman mythos, The Long Halloween is accessible to even the most casual of fans.

For the sake of OCTOBERFEAST, and to make yourself a better human being, give it a read.

Just one of the many scenes from which "The Dark Knight" & "Batman Begins" took a cue.

With little over two weeks until Hallow’s Eve, we had all better start breathing in that sweet autumn air. After all, it is mid-October — but unlike Daryl Palumbo, I’m not ranting `bout most early May. I’m here to enjoy the OCTOBERFEAST for everything it’s worth (which, in case you haven’t realized, is quite a bit).

For some reason, I’ve always associated Glassjaw’s Ape Dos Mil with autumn. It is in all likelihood that the lyrical reference to October is responsible for the forming of this mental connection. However, the Literature major and overzealous nerd within compels me to further dissect Ape Dos Mil. In doing so, I’ve discovered  that the track is the musical manifestation of the spirit of autumn.

Yeah, it’s over.

You can bet in mid-October,

I will still be ranting ’bout early May.

Yeah he’s a winner,

He’s a goddamn sinner.

While he dines I’m on the wrong side of the day.

And I said, “I don’t understand why I’m fumbling after.”

You’re the reason I cannot forget this season

Or the letter when she first referred to eight.

And I said…

The lyrics suggest that the remorseful crooner is longing for the days of early May, when the relationship was still new and exciting. At first listen, it may seem as though the words being penned address the literal calendar month and perhaps the true beginnings of love. But it can be no coincidence that the described romance is worthwhile and flourishing in May, which just happens to be the quintessential month of spring — the season best known for ushering in a wholesale sense of life and vitality.

Ape Dos Mil’s narrator tells us that he is now well into mid-October and unable to stop dwelling on the beauty that was his relationship only five short months previously. On the other hand, this linear development also coincides with the sharp thematic contrast of spring and autumn. Just as the leaves are falling and the Earth reclaims all life, Ape Dos Mil paints the portrait of man in decay, the approaching of a personal winter.

While given the story from the perspective of the man who pulled the shortest straw, I think there is something to the notion that the narrator’s  enemy is succeeding because of his ability to transgress. In the aforementioned verse, the narrator pits himself against a rival lover, describing him as both a winner and a goddamn sinner. It is Daryl Palumbo’s delivery of these lyrics that make the listener feel absolute unease, maybe even disgust. How can this new figure succeed while sinning, falling far from the set standards of the ideal? The narrator’s frustration seeps out, noting  that he cannot even stand a chance against the most mundane actions of his former love’s latest beau; “While he dines I’m on the wrong side of the day.”

Taking a step back, it seems as though the protagonist of Ape Dos Mil is simply a spring type of guy — fixated on those times in which the new, refreshing and lively were generated. However, the goddamn sinner of the track is autumn — cast with the role of bringing about decay and eventual death. In truth, neither of these characters can be applauded or derided for their actions, as they as just fulfilling their prescribed duties. Similarly, the female love interest should not be disregarded as a flake or whore. Instead, she can be understood as the  cyclical seasons, the recognition that a changing of the guard must occur.

If you don’t buy into any of the above, don’t worry. You can still enjoy Ape Dos Mil as a somber tale of love that just happens to sound better on an October evening.

Should you find yourself not enjoying the song, at least watch the video without the sound. It’s got creepy clowns, depictions of strange sexual practices and voyeurism — perfectly fitting into OCTOBERFEAST!