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.

Helllllllllll, yeah! I haven’t updated Search Engine Terms in a while. There’s been a bunch of good searches, but I was proud of this newest one.

Fucking in Superman Position! It’s well documented that I pioneered the Superman Fuck. Now we have like minded individuals looking for a home, wanting nothing more than to advance their sexual techniques. Well my friends, you’ve come to the correct place for fucking in various superhero positions.

Welcome!

I also want to give a shout out to Superman Cum Shots. I really want to meet the people who are down with such things. They’ll either be really cool, or they’ll trap me in their dungeon and rape me ruthlessly. Either way, I uh, win!

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!

It has come to my attention that Six and Boomer from Battlestar Galactica are in Maxim this month to promote the upcoming Battlestar on SyFy and Digital Video Disc. There’s really no need to say anything else. Go look at the pictures. You’re welcome.

I take pride in the fact that OCTOBERFEAST is an event in which everyone can participate. The FEAST doesn’t discriminate — any fool daring enough to step into its camp grounds is eagerly swallowed alive. Male, female, gay, straight, blind, elderly, mentally challenged, Chinese, Native American, rich or poor — OCTOBERFEAST consumes all.

Today, a less fortunate contingent of the revelers is being represented. I know in my heart of hearts that all you sorry sons of bitches without an adequate allowance know about this treat…

KRACKEL

The KRACKEL is a bar of chocolate enveloping tasty, crispy wafers of rice. First and foremost, the candy is dang delectable. Also, the rice in the bar produce a fun *crunch* with each bite. Yeah, it’s the *crunch* that really defines the KRACKEL, setting it apart from all other Halloween goodies.

Except the much more beloved & recognizable Crunch bar. Oh shit.

Think about it — have you ever heard somebody say, “Damn, I could really go for a KRACKEL right now”? Invariably, the answer is “No.” If anyone craved such a chocolate delectable, she/he would go buy a Nestle Crunch.

Thinking on it now, I’m not even sure that I’ve ever seen a full-bar version of the Poor Man’s Crunch. Could it be possible that Mr. Hershey is so strapped for cash that he can only produce fun-size KRACKEL? Truthfully, I can only recall eating the candy when it was part of my Trick-or-Treating loot or included in a candy grab-bag.

Maybe I’ve mischaracterized the KRACKEL as an outcast; the sad, pimple-faced fat kid crying in the corner of the middle school dance while macho CRUNCH bumpz-n-grindz with Kit Kat. Instead, maybe our crispy friend is just misunderstood; he’s the artistic weirdo who just needs to be given a chance to flourish.

I say fuck the `ole standards. This year, go out of your way to eat a KRACKEL. You don’t need to become politically aware or start recycling or donate time to a charity or help out at a soup kitchen…if you eat a KRACKEL before the end of OCTOBERFEAST you are guaranteed a spot in Heaven.

Oh, and remember not to wolf it down. Savor the candy bar, as demonstrated in the video below:

I stole this picture of Pepsibones today while he was drumming. His kit is above our family’s garage, and so he usually enters the loft to rock the fuck out. I initially wanted to ask him a question, but seeing him in the middle of a rock session, I didn’t want to intrude.

I’m a big fan of this shitty picture for several reasons. First, my brother is god damn amazing at the drums, but he doesn’t have much time to play them between school and student teaching. So whenever I hear his heavy metal thunder echoing across our yard, it generally brings a smile to my face. You know, just hearin’ him do his thang. And secondly, I love the fact that he’s drumming out in his dress pants and dress shirt. It’s dapper as hell. It’s metal meets GQ.

As intimated in previous post, OCTOBERFEAST is going to get pretty damn metal. Since its inception heavy metal has been identified as sharing genetic material with Halloween — a predilection for the occult, the subversion of the innocent and a profound respect for Satan. Of the metal family tree, the cousin most closely related to Hallow’s Eve would have to be DEATH METAL!

Hailing from the uber-metal Sweden, Opeth are goddamn masters of heavy metal. The mindchild of Mikael Akerfeldt, Opeth can alternatively play the heaviest shit imaginable and ballads that will make you weep. Unlike a lot of metal acts, Akerfeldt’s growls are balanced with a crooning sweet enough to lullaby a baby to sleep. With stylistic versatility, musical virtuosity and a knack for tune-crafting, Opeth are in a league of their own.

Yes, these Swedish rockers are capable of holding their own against the songwriters of most genres. But this is OCTOBERFEAST, so I’m going to focus in on Opeth’s ability to conjure the Devil. In fact, I’m fairly certain that The Grand Conjuration is about just such a divinely-defiant act.

The Grand Conjuration is the seventh track of Ghost Reveries, a loose concept album [arguably] about one man’s emotional distress after killing his own mother.  This track in particular  seems to be some sort of an appeal to the Dark Lord himself.

The hands of Satan
Assembling his flock.
Pale horse rider
Scouring the earth.

Whispered conjuration –
A belief takes form.
Choking hand tapping
The veins in your throat.

His orders in your mouth
A decree for domination.
Beneath the tides of wisdom
Spins the undertow of hate.

I’m not 100% sure what the above lyrics mean, but I know that they’re fucking evil. I can just picture a dark priest from a Stephen King novel reciting those lines as he prepares to sacrifice a school bus of Girl Scouts.

As an added bonus, the music video for The Grand Conjuration is a perfect treat for any OCTOBERFEAST evening. In addition to the standard “dudes in an empty warehouse” motif, the video features trash-can fires, rats, and interrogations conducted by a creep who looks like a  cross between Zorro and Frank Miller’s The Spirit (yes — Frank Miller’s, not Will Eisner’s).

Also, because Gene Hoglan was touring with Opeth at the time he makes an appearance. An automatic +5 points.

I’m not sure if the Devil listens to music. But if He does, I’d like to think He’s an Opeth fan.

OCTOBERFEAST just wouldn’t be the same without the lovely recess that is Columbus Day.

Personally, I couldn’t care less about Christopher Columbus himself. Yeah, his travels really paved the way for European exploration of the New World. I guess that’s pretty cool. But it’s kind of hard to overlook the raping/pillaging/plundering aspects of his genocide. So in that regard, he’s pretty lame.

More important than the Christopher Columbus is the holiday bearing his name. I am a firm believer that human beings need days off. Without the occasional three-day weekend, society is apt to implode. If the only way to officially cancel a workday is to replace it with a bogus holiday, then by all means go for it.

The usefulness of Columbus Day reveals itself it many different ways. For college students, this first three-day weekend of the semester provides an excuse to travel back home, attempt a road trip or just enjoy an extra day of binge drinking.

For sports fans, Columbus Day provides an otherwise absent opportunity to nurse post-game hangovers. This is  an appreciated prospect, considering that the MLB playoffs are in full-swing, NFL action is heating up, the NHL season is beginning and the NBA preseason is looking to come to a close.

And for many more, Columbus Day is a chance to enjoy autumn. With a full day’s freedom, it is a lot easier to plan a trip to an apple orchard or pumpkin patch. Living in the suburbs, it seems to me that this is the day that the neighbors start tossing scarecrows and goofy Halloween decorations onto their front porches and lawns. I’m not sure if agricultural competitions are the October-thing-to-do everywhere, but residents of the greater Boston region use this day to get their asses to Topsfield.

Truthfully, I always try to use the holiday as an extra day of rest. While I always find OCTOBERFEAST to be the  most pleasurable of all seasons, it is also generally when I’m at my busiest. Today I made a point to lounge around, eating too much food and trying to catch up on some television I’ve been missing; I can’t say that the combination of caramel apples and Californication is a bad one. I haven’t been terribly productive — and this is a design with which I am comfortable.

In the case that you had to work today, I offer my sympathies. At the very least you can take comfort in the fact that we’re well on our way to Halloween.

Oh, and just in case you’re unfamiliar with the exploits of Christopher Columbus – the video below is a hard-hitting documentary about the explorer.

Believe it or not, The Simpsons was once a great television show. In fact, I would argue that in its prime (somewhere in the mid-to-late 1990’s) The Simpsons was fucking untouchable. Marge vs. the Monorail? Twenty-Two Short Films About Springfield? The Itchy & Scratchy and Poochy Show? Episodes like these embody the spirit of the sitcom at its absolute finest.

So while its epic nose-dive has been enough to keep me away for the last decade, I still feel warm, fuzzy things for The Simpsons. Some of the warmest and fuzziest of these funny feelings are connected to Treehouse of Horror — the show’s annual Halloween special.

Every year, Treehouse of Horror would take everyone’s favorite family from Evergreen Terrace through parodies of horror & science fiction movies, strangely murderous tales and other similarly bizarre romps. It was insanity — the residents of Springfield killing one another before my very eyes! I guess part of the charm was that for one episode every season, the best show on television took it upon itself to make kooky stories about the zany shit I love.

Also, Treehouse of Horror always featured Kang & Kodos, two of the best alien characters of all-time. I think it was in the `96 episode that they inhabited the bodies of Bill Clinton & Bob Dole, then ran against each other for president. Genius.

Kang & Kodos hoping to hitch a ride.

Maybe I’ve constructed a false memory, but I really think that I remember coming home from trick-or-treating and watching Treehouse of Horror. As an eight-year-old, there was no better feeling than stuffing my face full of candy, paying my dad off with Almond Joys to look the other way, and watching Homer Simpson do silly shit. That was the life.

I’m not so sure that The Simpsons will ever reclaim the glory it once possessed. But at least once a year, when the pumpkins are screaming in terror as their captors approach them with kitchen-knives in hand, I’ll think of Treehouse of Horror and smile.

Over the course of the last week or so I’ve been rereading Arthur Miller’s quasi-historical The Crucible in preparation to teach it. I had forgotten the density and poignancy of the play — Miller’s work is pretty much a head-on condemnation of our current power structure, criticizing the fact that it is based on racism, sexism, paranoia, religiously justified oppression and the process of othering.

Of course, I’m going to have to water down all of these ideas as I attempt to present them to a body of fifteen-year-olds who couldn’t care less. And while I abhor the concept of compromising sick ideas, I am willing to do so as long as I keep a promise to myself. No matter how little interest these teenagers show, I am going to ensure that they walk away from The Crucible knowing one thing for sure:

Giles Corey is the motherfucking man.

In true, historically-verified terms, Giles was an old-ass man accused of witchcraft during the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. When you think of him, think of that bad-ass geezer who isn’t afraid to speak his mind or take a stand. In Arthur Miller’s words, “Giles Corey, eighty-three…He is knotted with muscle, canny, inquisitive, and still powerful.”

According to Puritan Law, any man who would not plead either guilty or innocent to an accusation could not be tried in court. Giles refused to plead innocent because he didn’t want to subject himself to an unjust trial and he wouldn’t plead guilty because he wasn’t a goddamn witch. In such instance, the Puritan authorities would lay a suspect on his back and then place as much weight on him as required to elicit a plea (thereby justifying a trial).

But Giles never succumbed to the (literal) pressure. Subjected to this torture for days, Corey never issued a statement regarding the accusation of witchcraft. Elizabeth Proctor from The Crucible clarifies:

He were not hanged. He would not answer aye or nay to his indictment; for if he denied the charge they’d hang him surely, and auction out his property. So he stand mute, and died Christian under the law. And so his sons will have his farm. It is the law, for he could not be condemned a wizard without he answer the indictment, aye or nay.

In fact, the only words slipping out his mouth during the entire endeavor were “More weight.” Giles Corey is the definitive old-man bad-ass.

Found  below are a campy recreation of Giles’ fatal pressing and the music video for Unearth’s Giles.