Old Bats.
Like Ralph Cramden's Mother In-Law.
O'ZOM-beeee!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Better late than never.
I thought I heard the doors rattling... glad you're here! I'm trying a little experiment.
See, I have been trying for a month now to somehow post a slideshow of an old book, but a slideshow that you, the viewer, can control on your own, and which (being a book) would be readable, legible, given the size of the post area on the average blog.
The book? Oh, it's that great '70s handbook for Monster Kids, Movie Monsters!
Published by (who else?) Scholastic Books in 1975, it was the brainchild of one Alan Ormsby -- writer/actor (Deathdream, Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things), and Monster Kid extraordinaire. Ray Prohaska did all the fabulous and long-studied illustrations.
Alan Ormsby, by the by, also concocted the terrifying master-of-disguise puppet toy Hugo: Man Of A Thousand Faces:
(Source)
For this act alone, Mr. Ormsby is worthy of many, many salaams.
The book was a staple for Hallowe'en and Horror Lovin' Kids in the '70s, and contains great images and short histories of the most famous of the Famous Monsters...
... an invaluable section on making your own incredible Monster Make-Ups...
... not just for the Guys but the Ladies, too...
... and even a short stage play to produce in your own livingroom, auditorium, or uncle's barn you can turn into a theatre...
There are also some very fun effects tricks in this playlet which are explained afterward...
This was a classic, inspiring book for young October Folk like me.
So now, this slideshow thing... see, I have a nice but somewhat brittle copy of this book, which was a gift from a buddy, too... and I really didn't want to press it into a scanner, so I took pictures instead. Tripod, bright enough light, they came out quite fine (for not being scanned).
The thing is I now have the entire book viewable, readable, on my hard drive.
Others have written about this book, and I really can't add anything new to the praise; I just thought being able to have the whole long-out-of-print book available online somewhere would be really nice for Monster Kids and Hallowe'en Lovers (the make-up ideas are still very relevant and eminently usable with success for your own kids!)...
Ah, I hope this works. But whether it does or doesn't, please inform me. I don't like to experiment too often. Well, not on loyal guests, at any rate...
... that thing on the slab down in the basement is another story.
O'ZOM-beeee!
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
March-ial music.
A new month, a new jukebox.
Well, mostly new.
In honor of March, St. Patrick's Day and the Irish (things which are always good for a pub), I have given the S&P's jukebox a bit of a green spotlight...
After all, a pub needs real pub music every so often!
Certainly, we always begin with the Great Pumpkin Waltz, our official theme song... but then we are immediately treated to an atmospheric fusion of Celtic and classical with Something Of Time, a haunting 1989 release from Nightnoise.
Next, a set of Irish reels performed by The Chief Tones: Kilmalie, The Mountain Road, and the one which got them invited to the S&P jukebox, The Star Of Munster!
Then I have decided to bring back a piece I had playing when this jukebox was first installed in the ol' place -- Near Northern, a 1986 foot stomper in the jazzy 'newgrass' tradition by the Anger-Higbie Quintet. An absolute favorite which I am happy to return to the playlist.
Hhmmm... Green, Irish, Hallowe'en... ah! Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. You didn't know she had Irish blood in her? Read the book Wicked... it's quite true.
Here, from the musical, Elphaba sings with Galinda about destiny, friendship and change, and sweeps up a turning point in both of their lives by finally, at long last, Defying Gravity.
Continuing our little tribute to the Emerald Isle, I thought some good ol' fashioned pub fiddle was in order; Jerry Holland answered the call, and has graced us with a set of three fine pieces -- The Dandy, The Black Rogue, and Lakeview Drive. Pub tunes, played brilliantly.
I have left Pumpkintime where it is, because... well, just because I did. It's part of the landscape, the wood and tombstones now.
Lastly, an odd choice, but one I am proud to offer.
Named after a fine, Irish-blooded cornetist, Pete Kelly's Blues is the titular song from the Jack Webb film from 1955. I imagine that this would be just the kind of thing we'd be hearing all the time in this pub if we were a bit more of a jazz club and we were somehow taken back to the days of the Volstead Act, Kansas City gangsters and bar room jazz bands.
And on a more personal note, the lead trumpet on this recording (mimed by Webb himself in the title role of bandleader Pete Kelly) is actually a lifelong friend of Webb's -- my father, Dick Cathcart.
I tried to find a picture of him 'wearin' the green' on the Welk bandstand but no luck... I know it exists. One of these days...
Well. There it is. Some Irish music for the Irish month.
Heck, if it weren't for the Irish, I doubt we would have Hallowe'en the way we've known it for many generations. Being a Hallowe'en Fanatic and an 'Ulster-Scot' myself, with my ancestors having left Cathcart in Scotland to live and scatter throughout County Antrim (Northern Ireland) before coming to America, I have always felt a strong bond with things Irish.
Just tippin' me brim to 'em fer the toime beein'.
Thank you, Ireland, for bringing to the table so much that makes our living a little more fun, sentimental, and honest.
Slainte'!
Friday, February 26, 2010
Blast from the past(ry)...
It's not Fall, I'm not a kid, this isn't Grandma's house and these
aren't from Winchell's:
... but this still makes me very, very happy.
Yum-yum-shrekpop!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Fear for thought, part three.
Ah! Come in, come in... the chatter and the good company continue!
Boy, I never did that, Fester. Ever. *ahem!*
Smartly ignoring my lame interruption, Fes continues :
"On TV, the horror movies and previews were a little easier to watch. Although my mother likes to tell the story about me at six, watching the afternoon kid show (Kimbo the Clown?) and the TV station ran a Godzilla ad. She was in the kitchen and heard Godzilla roar and me scream. She ran into the living room and found me wedged between the sofa and the wall..."
I have no idea what you looked like as a child, but I can easily see a child doing that... again, not that I ever did such things myself... except for this time when I was 7 or 8 and was home from school because I (seriously!) had a lousy cold, and in the middle of KHJ 9's mid-morning Laurel & Hardy shorts an ad for The Exorcist came flashing, roaring out of the TV set. They didn't even show her face, just stills of Ellen Burstyn's horrified face and the growling, demonic voice...
No sofas or walls for me -- I ran screaming down the hallway into my room and jumped into my bed with the sheets up to my face, staring at the door to the hallway and waiting for that hideous demon girl to come get me.
Nothing like that ever happened to me again, though. I mean, not any time that I feel like admitting right now.
Then, Fester makes such a sad statement (sad to me anyway!):
"Yet somehow, I managed to grow up a sort of normal person. Not sure what the turning point was."
Sad, but true -- most of us Hallowe'en and Monster Lovin' Kids manage, in spite of the seeming odds, to grow up sort of a normal person.
In truth, I know it's a darn good thing to grow up and out of your fears, a happy thing. But sometimes we can still lament the lost thrill of those more innocent days. Max, that drunken severed head I mentioned last time, addresses this very issue:
"Hang onto your memories, folks, 'cause you can't capture again all of the magic from (when) you were a tadpole and you watched monsters on the little and big screens.
Just watched KING KONG ESCAPES for the first time since I saw it at the Razorback Drive-In with my mother, shortly before she passed on. It was fun, but it wasn't the wonderfully overstimulating, baffling, wizardry-laden buzz trip that it had been when I was 5 or 6. (Yeah, I know, KKE's a lousy example, but the point remains.)"
Well, no one's going to argue about that movie's lousiness, as an example or otherwise, I agree. But yes, the point remains and is well taken.
Like Fester, Max mentions leaving childhood:
"I grew up, mostly, but I miss that kinda full-throttle openness to the fantastic. 'Course, I'm smarter than I was then, and I've gained new levels of appreciation, but there is a part of one that can never go back to The October Country."
I know the feeling, and see what you're getting at, Max. Being the romantic sentimentalist I've always been, I prefer to think that we can return to that far, Fall country in one piece -- we just can't fit into all the corners there, hide in all the shadows, as we once did. Those places mean something different now because of those 'turning points' Fester mentioned (though they are different for everybody), and you're right, we are smarter (mostly) and appreciate things on other levels.
Maybe it's all just semantics and wistful (and wishful) thinking, but I think The October Country grows as I get older, even as I outgrow my clothes -- I mean, outgrow my childhood thrills and chills...
Of late the patrons of this place have been privy to some interesting storytelling and a bit of philosophizing, and I thought I would recount some of this and add my own thoughts (what is it with these annoying, attention-grabbing pubkeeps?).
Again, these comments can be read directly at the bottom of each post but I'd just like to give some attention to them up front, in their own post.
Referring to this photo from the previous entry in this discussion:
... Fester admits:
"I spent a lot of my childhood in that pose. I especially remember ducking down to the empty cup and wrapper level when the movie house ran a scary preview..."Referring to this photo from the previous entry in this discussion:
Boy, I never did that, Fester. Ever. *ahem!*
Smartly ignoring my lame interruption, Fes continues :
"On TV, the horror movies and previews were a little easier to watch. Although my mother likes to tell the story about me at six, watching the afternoon kid show (Kimbo the Clown?) and the TV station ran a Godzilla ad. She was in the kitchen and heard Godzilla roar and me scream. She ran into the living room and found me wedged between the sofa and the wall..."
I have no idea what you looked like as a child, but I can easily see a child doing that... again, not that I ever did such things myself... except for this time when I was 7 or 8 and was home from school because I (seriously!) had a lousy cold, and in the middle of KHJ 9's mid-morning Laurel & Hardy shorts an ad for The Exorcist came flashing, roaring out of the TV set. They didn't even show her face, just stills of Ellen Burstyn's horrified face and the growling, demonic voice...
No sofas or walls for me -- I ran screaming down the hallway into my room and jumped into my bed with the sheets up to my face, staring at the door to the hallway and waiting for that hideous demon girl to come get me.
Nothing like that ever happened to me again, though. I mean, not any time that I feel like admitting right now.
Then, Fester makes such a sad statement (sad to me anyway!):
"Yet somehow, I managed to grow up a sort of normal person. Not sure what the turning point was."
Sad, but true -- most of us Hallowe'en and Monster Lovin' Kids manage, in spite of the seeming odds, to grow up sort of a normal person.
In truth, I know it's a darn good thing to grow up and out of your fears, a happy thing. But sometimes we can still lament the lost thrill of those more innocent days. Max, that drunken severed head I mentioned last time, addresses this very issue:
"Hang onto your memories, folks, 'cause you can't capture again all of the magic from (when) you were a tadpole and you watched monsters on the little and big screens.
Just watched KING KONG ESCAPES for the first time since I saw it at the Razorback Drive-In with my mother, shortly before she passed on. It was fun, but it wasn't the wonderfully overstimulating, baffling, wizardry-laden buzz trip that it had been when I was 5 or 6. (Yeah, I know, KKE's a lousy example, but the point remains.)"
Well, no one's going to argue about that movie's lousiness, as an example or otherwise, I agree. But yes, the point remains and is well taken.
Like Fester, Max mentions leaving childhood:
"I grew up, mostly, but I miss that kinda full-throttle openness to the fantastic. 'Course, I'm smarter than I was then, and I've gained new levels of appreciation, but there is a part of one that can never go back to The October Country."
I know the feeling, and see what you're getting at, Max. Being the romantic sentimentalist I've always been, I prefer to think that we can return to that far, Fall country in one piece -- we just can't fit into all the corners there, hide in all the shadows, as we once did. Those places mean something different now because of those 'turning points' Fester mentioned (though they are different for everybody), and you're right, we are smarter (mostly) and appreciate things on other levels.
Maybe it's all just semantics and wistful (and wishful) thinking, but I think The October Country grows as I get older, even as I outgrow my clothes -- I mean, outgrow my childhood thrills and chills...
(Hhhmmm... a little too Grither-ish for comfort...)
I really enjoy reading your thoughts and stories, everyone.
I hope everyone else enjoys my posting them.
More books, knick-knacks, and even an interview or two are on their way in the coming days and weeks...
DUMDUMSHREKPOP!
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Random Picture # 321
Random Picture of Things That Made Me Me, #321:
Imagineering, Inc.'s Ugly Kit (KT-66).
I seem to recall receiving one of these on at least two different birthdays and one Christmas.
I know, best Christmas present ever, right? Well, close, but no. I believe I mentioned the Greatest Christmas Ever gifts in this post. However, this is right up there. I mean, c'mon. Ya got scars, green monster fangs and those too-awesome-for-kid-words bloodshot eyes!
By the by, I have forgotten who sent me this image, forgive me! If you're reading this, please remind me so I can credit you!
And of course, if someone out there has one of these kits they're not using at the moment... well, I've talked too long for this post to be all that 'random'.
ZOM-beeee!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
What's that up there? (part one)
So...
Every time you come to the S&P you are guaranteed at least three things:
1. Free snacks (in convenient digital form -- no mess for me, no weight gain for you -- it's perfect);
2. Good company, and
3. Something cool to see and/or hear.
Of course, the decor, the theme of the place is decidedly ghoulish, spooky, and just plain fun. We have appointed our little corner of Autumn with all manner of Hallowe'enish bric-a-brac.
I thought it might be fun to begin a little series of posts wherein one or two of the items adorning the S&P are highlighted. Highlit.
High.
Hi!
This time 'round, a little tchotchke by Department 56:
Released in 1999 and retired (makes it sound so important) in 2002, Treats For The Kids was gifted to me years ago, and I've loved it ever since.
Ostensibly, this is supposed to be a normal, human Dad and Mom dressed as our favorite classic monster couple, ready to go treating with their costumed kids, according to Dept. 56's official line for this set (#55016).
But I think this is wrong. I mean, look at them. If they're human, they've done an awfully thorough job of their make-up and she still had time to make caramel apples... plus, unless that's a mask, he's an ugly man. Ugly in a Moose Mason from Riverdale High kinda way. Can we seriously be expected to believe the obviously cute and sexy Bride next to him would have ever married such a man on purpose?
Besides, who'd be holding and eating a caramel apple if they were wearing a mask?
No, no... this is actually the real Frankenstein's Monster and his 'made-for-him' Bride giving treats to three neighborhood children. This I can accept.
The lucky trick-or-treaters are pret-ty darned cool, too:
I really love this pair. The robot is just awesome, with his little metal wire antennae and his very cool, shiny little jack o'lantern treat bucket. His eyes are a little far apart and flat under that robot box mask, though -- hhmmm, maybe he is the guy's son and they're human after all, just not very handsome -- no, no, I stick to my hypothesis. Robot Boy (Roboy?) is very cool.
His sister (I just know it is, somehow) is very fetching in her cat costume. Well, 'fetching' would be better suited to a dog costume (ba-dump-bump!) but she is very, very cute. If she wants to put her treats in a litter box it's her business. I won't harass her about it.
Their little friend, the youngest treater, seems a bit intimidated by the 'Steins, as he won't meet their gaze:
However, don't let his seeming insecurity fool you. Notice that he's the only one who thought to bring two candy conveyances, a pillowcase and a little black cauldron.
Yeah, Junior's the one to hang with, no question. He'll have double the treats and all the cavities; both make for good kid discussion.
In fact, regarding this kid's Hallowe'en partying instincts, his pillowcase says it all: I want my Mummy!
And everyone knows, the Mummy is the ultimate Hallowe'en partier!
Yessir, this set is a fun and valued, if tiny, part of the menagerie of miniature monstrosities on display here.
I'll have more to say about other curiosities in the future.
Until then...
ZOM-beeeee!
Every time you come to the S&P you are guaranteed at least three things:
1. Free snacks (in convenient digital form -- no mess for me, no weight gain for you -- it's perfect);
2. Good company, and
3. Something cool to see and/or hear.
Of course, the decor, the theme of the place is decidedly ghoulish, spooky, and just plain fun. We have appointed our little corner of Autumn with all manner of Hallowe'enish bric-a-brac.
I thought it might be fun to begin a little series of posts wherein one or two of the items adorning the S&P are highlighted. Highlit.
High.
Hi!
This time 'round, a little tchotchke by Department 56:
Released in 1999 and retired (makes it sound so important) in 2002, Treats For The Kids was gifted to me years ago, and I've loved it ever since.
Ostensibly, this is supposed to be a normal, human Dad and Mom dressed as our favorite classic monster couple, ready to go treating with their costumed kids, according to Dept. 56's official line for this set (#55016).But I think this is wrong. I mean, look at them. If they're human, they've done an awfully thorough job of their make-up and she still had time to make caramel apples... plus, unless that's a mask, he's an ugly man. Ugly in a Moose Mason from Riverdale High kinda way. Can we seriously be expected to believe the obviously cute and sexy Bride next to him would have ever married such a man on purpose?
Besides, who'd be holding and eating a caramel apple if they were wearing a mask?
No, no... this is actually the real Frankenstein's Monster and his 'made-for-him' Bride giving treats to three neighborhood children. This I can accept.
The lucky trick-or-treaters are pret-ty darned cool, too:
I really love this pair. The robot is just awesome, with his little metal wire antennae and his very cool, shiny little jack o'lantern treat bucket. His eyes are a little far apart and flat under that robot box mask, though -- hhmmm, maybe he is the guy's son and they're human after all, just not very handsome -- no, no, I stick to my hypothesis. Robot Boy (Roboy?) is very cool.His sister (I just know it is, somehow) is very fetching in her cat costume. Well, 'fetching' would be better suited to a dog costume (ba-dump-bump!) but she is very, very cute. If she wants to put her treats in a litter box it's her business. I won't harass her about it.
Their little friend, the youngest treater, seems a bit intimidated by the 'Steins, as he won't meet their gaze:
However, don't let his seeming insecurity fool you. Notice that he's the only one who thought to bring two candy conveyances, a pillowcase and a little black cauldron.Yeah, Junior's the one to hang with, no question. He'll have double the treats and all the cavities; both make for good kid discussion.
In fact, regarding this kid's Hallowe'en partying instincts, his pillowcase says it all: I want my Mummy!
And everyone knows, the Mummy is the ultimate Hallowe'en partier!
Yessir, this set is a fun and valued, if tiny, part of the menagerie of miniature monstrosities on display here.I'll have more to say about other curiosities in the future.
Until then...
ZOM-beeeee!
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