Nobody Dreams of a White Halloween!

To put it bluntly, Mother Nature pretty much stepped on my dick this weekend... while wearing cleats. One of the big news stories locally has been the monster snowstorm which hit much of the northeastern seaboard of the United States. Locally, we got about four inches of slushy stuff near my home and my workplace, but some areas of the New York Metro Area got slammed by a foot and a half of wet snow.

Of course, this snowstorm hit on the biggest fundraising weekend of the not-for-profit for which I work. We had three major events scheduled for Saturday and Sunday, all of which had to be cancelled. I started off Saturday as I typically do, taking the subway down to midtown Manhattan for my volunteer coaching gig. We had two classes, and then (instead of our noon to one P.M. Class) the kids had a Halloween party. It started snowing around eleven o'clock, and the snow had started accumulating on the sidewalks. Right outside Central Park, I made eye contact with a young woman, and we instantly started chatting about the snow. She was visiting from Australia, and was unused to seeing snow in such quantities. She said, “I've never seen snow like this.” I had to laugh, and said, “I haven't either- not in October!” Yeah, green leafy deciduous trees should not have snow on their boughs... it's just wrong, wronger than a soup sandwich (although pretty).





After an uneventful subway ride, I had a few hours to kill before I had to show up at work, so I decided to hit a really good Indian restaurant on the way to work and descend upon their buffet lunch like an avatara of gluttony. I hadn't had breakfast, and I didn't know when I'd be able to leave work, so I gorged myself, leaving the owner silently weeping, and cursing the cruel fate which allowed me to be able, uncharacteristically, to arrive at his place before 2:30 in the afternoon.

Not having anything else to do, and not wanting to drive on messy, messy roads, I decided to head to work early. I knew our fundraising events were cancelled, and I knew that the sheer foulness of the weather would work in my favor. I thought I'd be standing in the parking lot with my dick in my hands, telling people to go away, that they'd automatically get a refund. Needless to say, nobody even showed up looking to attend an event.

Shortly after I arrived, the power died. The heavy snow, combined with the weight of the leaves still on the trees, caused a lot of tree limbs to come down, many of them on the electric wires which our bass-ackwards municipalities have not buried in the ground. My dreams of being able to surf the web during lulls in the job, maybe put up a post, were dashed. I did, though, get a nice picture of a tree on the site which, because of its orange-and-white color scheme, reminded me of mah prehshuss kittehs:





For a few hours, things were a little scary- I could hear the crashing of falling branches, so many that I was reminded of boyhood days spent on Bronxtucket, listening to the fusillade of shots coming from the NYPD firing range on Rodman's (and not the one you're thinking of ) Neck. Yeah, it was pretty ugly, especially considering that I'd have to do a couple of walkabouts throughout the night to assess any potential damage on-site.

Things actually got better, weatherwise, as the night progressed- the snow was less heavy, the wind less fierce. Inside, though, it was a different story- I basically sat watching the emergency lights slowly dying as the backup battery power bled out, listening to the various quacks and beeps of different alarm systems (which eventually died out as the power completely went kaput). Thankfully, I knew where I could find some candle stubs (the grounds staff often puts out candles during nighttime events to lend a certain atmosphere to the sites), and was able to find a widemouthed jar in which to stick them (my relief took my cue, and now I have a fat, four-wicked votive candle sitting on my desk.

Not being able to surf the net, and not having much juice left in the laptop, I did something very appropriate to the season, I busted out a copy of Dracula and started reading it in the candlelight, in the rapidly cooling building (I'm on a bit of a Transylvania kick, having just read **FUTURE BLOG POST**). I got as far as the bit with the three **SPOILER** hot vampire chicks **END SPOILER** part before my relief came.

Thankfully, when I got home, the power was on. Yay, light and heat! Of course, I was so beat, I crawled into bed within twenty minutes of getting home.

I arrived at work not knowing what to expect. When I got here, the power was still off. The day was characterized by beautiful weather, though the roads were a mess due to the prevalence of downed limbs. Having no power on site, we had to cancel the fundraiser yet again, though this time, I had to stand in the parking lot giving the “No event, you'll get your refund. So sorry, go away” routine, along with the site director and an assistant manager. Everybody was pretty cool, even though some people were upset to be missing the event. Telling people there's no light or heat, and the road to the parking lot is closed due to a downed electrical wire tends to put things in perspective, though. Yeah, you don't even want to stop in and use the bathroom, people... you'd be more comfortable pissing on a shrub.

It's late enough now that people have stopped coming, and I am sitting in the candlelit office, typing this out (the light and scant amount of heat provided by the laptop help make the room more comfortable. I warned my relief that the power was still off, so he should bring batteries for the radio if he wanted to listen to anything other than the ticking of the battery powered wall clock (or, if he were to step outside, the sound of the generator that the good people of Consolidated Edison are using to run their worklights). I just received a call on the company cell phone from the site director, directing whoever is on-site to call him as soon as the power comes on (I am sure my relief will be thrilled at the prospect of calling the site director at home at four in the morning). It's been a bit of a downer, having the marquee weekend of our fall fundraising events stomped by snowstorms. As hectic as the events are, I actually enjoy working them- I see people I haven't seen in a while, co-workers, contractors, and repeat visitors who I have come to like. I even enjoy running around for the better part of a night, though the all-day Saturdays kick my not-as-young-as-it-used-to-be ass hard. I'd take the hustle-and-bustle over the silent dark anytime.

While a White Christmas is something that many people look forward to, a white Halloween just flat-out sucks worse than candy corn (I'm expecting some dissent from outraged candy corn lovers, but really, you candy-cornballs need to get your heads checked, and this is coming from a guy who eats spleen sandwiches). White Halloween has been on my mind so much this weekend that it manifested itself as a couplet:

Nobody Dreams, of a White Halloween
The Very Concept itself, is striking me as obscene

Of course, not being the sort of person to let a joke go to waste, even when up to his ass in suckitude, I have to say this about our snowy Halloween... this whole weekend kinda feels like The Nightmare Before Christmas 2: Santa's Revenge:

MESS WITH SANTA, GET THE CLAWS!

H.P. LOLcraft

Alright, this being Halloween season (I think all holidays should be like Chanukkah- multi-day celebrations, rather than one day affairs), I think I'll do a little riff on riffs on "horror" literature. I make no bones about being a fan of H.P. Lovecraft, even though a lot of his work is problematic. HPL's kinda like America's lovable racist uncle (even though he's kinda horrible at times, you just can't throw him under the bus, even if he would have written a letter complaining about Rosa Parks riding in the front seat), unlike Pat Buchanan, who is America's contemptible racist uncle.

One thing about Lovecraft, though, is that, not sharing the man's considerable hangups, I don't really find his works scary. The best description of HPL I've ever read (can't remember the source) is "he doesn't write scary stories, he writes stories about people who are scared." That being said, I think the one story he wrote which I find genuinely unsettling is about the slow disintegration of an isolated New England family, a theme which is also that of the scariest book I have ever read.

Most of the time, though, I find HPL to be funny, and I'm not the only one. Some of the best HPL take-offs are "Muzski's" hilarious Tintin/Lovecraft mash-ups.

Another hilarious send-up is DrFaustusAU's wonderful Dr. Seuss/Lovecraft mash-up. Hilarious, though true to the source material.

Also very true to the source material (it's The Shadow Over Innsmouth condensed into a hilarious one-and-a-half minutes, so the whole video is one huge spoiler) is It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Fishmen:





Another funny take on the Old Gent from Providence's work is The Casting Call of Cthulhu (the production team has done several funny Lovecraftian shorts):





Confession time, I think the actress who played "Stacy Gilman" in the video is dark, smallish, and very good-looking... girls who are gilly drive me silly.

Yeah, I love Lovecraft, but I find his writings more funny than horrifying. If I were to have an opportunity to do a Lovecraft adaptation, it would be a workplace comedy based on The Shadow Out of Time, in which (***MAJOR SPOILERS FOLLOW***) the day-to-day frustrations of the captive minds laboring in the Great Library are mined for LULZORZ:




Yeaahhhh, Wingate, if we could possess your body for another two, three years, that'd be great. Mmmm-kay?

An Ageless Beauty

Maybe it's the fact that she's French, but, at 125 years old, the Statue of Liberty looks as good as it ever did. Bearing the full name "Liberty Enlightening the World", the statue has stood as a symbol of the promise of new life in a country that embraces freedoms since being erected in New York Harbor. Like many other immigrants, the hearts of my ancestors (except my maternal grandfather's, because he was born on a boat steaming to New York City from Buenos Aires and was more preoccupied with the flesh-and-blood goddess who was cuddling him that the copper giantess in the harbor) must have beaten a little faster upon seeing the statue, with its promise of hope and opportunity. Of course, others have looked upon the statue, and their hearts have beaten faster for entirely different reasons:





While most people don't look on the Statue of Liberty with erotic longing, it's safe to say that most people don't see the statue as a demonic idol, foisted on an unsuspecting United States by French Freemasons. The crazy is so strong in this assertion, I think I have to embed the video:





It's funny how all those people who claim that the United States was founded as a Christian country ignore the goddesses who seem to pop up throughout our cultural history (many of whom are on my blogroll). Yeah, the country has always had a majority Christian population, but its culture is rooted in the values of The Enlightenment, and acknowledges an indebtedness to ancient Greek democratic principles and the ancient Roman (specifically, the Republic) ideal of the rule of law. Yeah, pagan goddesses are as American as apple pie and anti-intellectualism, and they are gorgeous.

I think I'll have to do an All Saints' Day piece on the pagan divinities who have snuck into the Communion of Saints (some of whom still make the grade, and some of whom have been dropped from the liturgical calendar.

Proud Descendent of Headhunters

This being Halloween season, I decided that I'd emulate the cool kids and do a little skull blogging.

I make no bones about describing myself as a descendent of headhunters. Yes, the forebears of my mirthful, moon-faced saint of a paternal grandmother used to chop off the heads of their enemies, and display them:


A magnificent, brown-purple buckler he bore, with five wheels of gold on it, with a rim of pure white silver around it. A gold-hilted hammered sword at his left side. A long grey-edged spear together with a trenchant bye-spear for defence, with thongs for throwing and with rivets of whitened bronze, alongside him in the chariot. Nine heads he bore in one of his hands and ten in the other, and these he brandished before the hosts in token of his prowess and cunning. Medb hid her face beneath a shelter of shields lest Cuchulain should cast at her that day.


Yeah, the prevailing attitude in those days could be summed up as "two heads are better than none, a hundred heads are so much better than one" (I love that video- it seems like it could be the inspiration for Stonehenge).

Being the descendent of headhunters, the best way to honor this proud tradition is to engage in it. Simply put, I've collected skulls since I was a child. Most of my collection is now in the family camp in Maine in the cabinet of curiosities (my apartment is too small for a large collection of crania). I could not bear to part with one particular skull, though, a gorgeous raccoon skull I found while hiking with my maternal grandmother in a park near my house:





I leave it on the bookshelf, next to Kinsella's retelling of The Táin. Unfortunately, I never saved the brain of the raccoon, in order to fashion it into a weapon for home defense.

If you have some free time, and want to read one of my all-time favorite pieces of literature, The Táin is available online, in all its ultra-violent, scatalogical glory.

POSTSCRIPT: It's a shame that people of Irish descent have given up headhunting- what ancient Celt wouldn't have given his eye teeth to be able to display this giant-sized baby-head as a trophy?

M. Night Shabba Doo

If you are a fan of movies that feature a twist ending, you will love the films of M. Night Shabba Doo. One of his most famous films is the medical thriller Dr. Boogie:





Twist ending: He's not really a doctor!


Here's another M. Night Shabba Doo film with a shocking twist ending:





Who the hell could have seen that coming? Even the cast was surprised!

As an aside, I've never seen The Sixth Sense. I'd read a review of it in the local paper, and shortly afterwards a co-worker had mentioned that she'd seen it, and that it had an incredible twist ending. I was familiar with the premise of the film, so I said, "Incredible twist ending? Let me guess- **REDACTED: SPOILER**." She scratched her head and asked, "You're right, how did you figure that out?"

Sheesh, doesn't everybody have to read Ambrose Bierce in middle school?

As another aside, one of the best movie reviews I ever read was a review of Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo which proclaimed that the movie was "primarily of interest to Shabba Doo completists." I wish I remembered who wrote that brilliant line.

Nein! Nein! Nein!

I can't let Gocart Mozart have all the fun ripping on Herman Cain's horrible 9-9-9 tax plan. Here's my little effort in the "making fun of Herman Cain" song parody sub-genre:


Nine nine nine is the plan
Put out by that pizza man.
It's regressive, dumb as hell.
That is why it polls so well.
The voters in the GOP
Love this kind of fuckery.
Crushing on the pizza man,
With the dumb nine nine nine tax plan.

Nine nine nine is the plan
Put out by that pizza man.
Cut tax on capital gains,
Tax the milk and tax the grains.
Spare the rich and soak the poor,
That's what nine-nine-nine plan's for.
Why should rich folks share the pain?
Cast your vote now for Herman Cain.

Nine nine nine is the plan
Put out by the pizza man.
Working stiffs, hey, life's a bitch.
It's your fault you aren't rich.
"Lazy bums" old Herman mused,
"Just buy clothes and food that's used."
The next election's on the line,
With old Herman's stupid nine nine nine.


Of course, this is a takeoff on the biggest hit by my liebchen Nena Kerner and her eponymous band. For those of you who have lived much of the last three decades under a rock, the video is available, though cannot be embedded. Huh, there's a recently recorded remake of the song, which isn't as good as the original, but Nena still looks fantastic, and there's a moment in which a certain political figure is mocked...

I'm going to reiterate that any disparaging comments about Nena and her eponymous band could very well result in a lifetime ban. I think that, if I were to hear any disparaging comments about Nena made in my presence, I'd give a beating to the mocker. Hell, I'm even kinda pissed at myself for writing this parody... I think that I... uh... just might have to beat myself... just as soon as the video is over.

What the hell are you snickering about?

Good, But a Little Stringy...

October is a month of long workdays and poor sleep habits for myself, so I figure I'll put up a short post now and work on something more substantial when I work the upcoming midnight shift.

In the recent past, when I met up with Substance McGravitas and Ned, I ran across an interesting restaurant in the shadow of Ned's peen-like abode:





The fried guitars were good, but a little stringy- perhaps a long braise would have been a better way to prepare them.