Ralph Reese is a brilliant illustrator whose art I first discovered in Choose Your Own Adventure books; he was my personal favorite. His work leapt off the page more than the others, owing to his apprenticeship under the great Wally Wood. In my teens, I found reprints of Ralph’s collaboration with Byron Preiss for National Lampoon, “One Year Affair”. I dreamed of being able to draw like Ralph Reese.
When Ralph did a feature in CRAZY magazine, it was a cause for celebration. Because Ralph wasn’t just a master illustrator.
Ralph was also a master of making you crap your pants.
Horror icons are sparse in the 21st century for a very simple reason. Horror used to be adults scaring children. Now it’s all about creepy children scaring adults, and adults don’t scare the way kids do. Hence, a decent slasher flick gets forgotten after four or five years, regardless of how many sequels it has (witness the interminable Saw franchise of torture-porn).
Two of the most enduring figures in terror are Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees, of the Nightmare on Elm St. and Friday the 13th franchises. Both are bogeymen; mythical killers of young folks, in familiar settings. Therein lies the key to their longevity and appeal. Continue reading
Halloween is little more than a month away, so join me, as I once again risk my tooth enamel and gastrointestinal tract trying to recapture the joyfully spooky autumns of my youth. Click here for a much earlier installment in this series.
I found these things at Target, which is where I get about 50% of the candy I consume. The rest comes from Publix or CVS. These places understand adults with a diet that includes candy/crap. I typically can’t emerge from a Publix without a fresh bag of Wonka Randoms. Whoever designed those needs a fat promotion. The satisfaction of going to the scoop-and-bucket candy store at the mall- they nailed it. Continue reading
As Halloween approaches, we celebrate by getting sick on weird candy. To kick off this recurring feature, here’s an article from October 31, 2007.
What, you thought I was too busy to hand out treats to you fine kids? Hell no! How could I show up empty-handed, with all the hard work you guys put into your costumes? Sure, maybe you’ll be a little disappointed with what I have to offer, but since I at least made an effort to please you nice kids, maybe you won’t huck eggs at my quaint little Web 1.0 home here.
I’ll be blunt; my choices aren’t very original, but I hope you nice kids won’t hold that against me. I can see the glimmer of apprehension in your eyes behind those clever masks, no doubt caused by the realization that my home smells like compacted ass. Perhaps my shambling and tattered clothes suggest a feral man easily spooked by traffic’s roar. I assure you the corpses on the lawn are decorations and not interns.
‘Tis the Season. Let’s eat some CANDY!
O’Shloktoberfest is an autumn exploration of that rarest of substances: Decent Schlock. Each October I’ll wade through the sludge of 21st century horror so you don’t have to.
I think I should start this off with an open acknowledgment; Milla Jovovich is a great sport. Her obvious good looks aside, she has that Ukranian pluck that makes it tough to dislike her. She seems to be constantly in motion, typically crashing through walls and windows. I wouldn’t call myself a huge fan, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate that Milla Jovovich is out there blasting the dogshit out of something or other, usually while looking terrific if not kinda stoned.