World War HamTown-Hamtramck For Ukraine Benefit Preview

 *Disclaimer 1- The following is partially fiction, partially preview. You figure it out. If you don't "get it" Disclaimer 2 is after the post*

"But it is music for a cause. It says right there in the press release. Music-For-A-Cause"

   I am on a zoom call with Trent, Scott, Amy, Matt, and Oakley who are all at the House By the Beach on the West Coast and Trent has already zoned out, clearly focused on the next post after this one, and Scott is working on visual effects for the next Christopher Nolan film, a four hour epic about a sand dune that has seen it all, and Amy is all pilled out, topless, and even at 40 I still would, and Oakley, who is our personal trainer and the only black person we know which means he doesn't play into this preview, and Matt who is whining as usual about something called music for a cause. I am stuck in Michigan at the National Affairs Desk and the crew in LA want me to go "old school" and preview the latest Michigan local multi-venue music fest, this one benefitting the Ukraine. It is called Hamtramck For Ukraine.

I initially roll my eyes, another waste of time on my part, the bands' parts, the bars' parts, sigh, shrug, whatever. Yabba dabba doo. My ears were flooded with sound bites from the crew on the zoom call:

"Think of the logistics. Watch out for bad drugs. Get pics I can use. I don't really do live music anymore especially after that New Year's show we went to and they dropped balloons but the net fell and we were all entangled in it but kept dancing and you got angry because I was dancing with this guy even though it was obvious he was a fag. But it is music for a cause."

Now that we are caught up, as yes, music for a cause.

   "But what cause?" Scott asks, pretending to be interested though he may really be interested.

   "I looked it up already. Unicef Ukraine," I reply, "Yes, I checked. It's legit."

   "I adore you because you got the right idea, "Amy says, twisting the knife.

I have flashbacks to Lance from LA who perpetuated a Black Lives Matter t-shirt scam in 2020 where he acquired a cheapjack shirt press and mass produced a ridiculous amount of BLM shirts for that special summer and set up stands at multiple flea markets and gutted thousands out of everyone. He eventually used the money to disappear to Europe and nobody has heard from him since. It would be fitting if he was on the front line in Kiev, but instead of a gun he would have a t-shirt stand set up. I even e-mailed him a jpeg of the flyer for this fest hoping that he uses it. I also warned him that if the Ukrainians find out they won't be getting any money from this particular scam he is likely to be goozled, dressed in a Russian general's uniform possibly purchased from the old Lynch's costume store in Dearborn but maybe the one in Livonia, and his image posted on Reddit.

My daydream is interrupted by Matt.

   "Lance is not in Europe. Mr. Zipp Zip saw him in Encino last week. The pics he sent from Europe are actually on a soundstage in Encino. They are popping up in droves. There are three Euro soundstages alone in Encino and I've heard even more in Studio City."

   "That is off the record by the way," Scott interrupts, ominously, a warning, and then goes back to looking at the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly with Trent. I hear Trent whisper, "I bet she looks good beaten up."

The zoom call has turned dark so I bow out and turn my attention to my latest assistant Attilla who is filling in for Sebastian Owl who is still "on leave" for the political decal fiasco from a few months ago.

   "Attilla, I need a way to cover this fest. But for free. I'm not comfortable donating to a cause that can turn into a Rambo3," I whine.

   "Rambo 3?" Attilla replies, a question?

   "Yeah, Rambo helps the Afghans against Russia and then..."

   "Got it."

   "Yabba dabba doo. So, I need a way to cover this Hamtramck for Ukraine thing, but for free."

   "I think your best bet would be just to show up," Attilla offers, actually a brilliant idea. Attilla was right. Will there be wristbands? Hand stamps?

   "Great call Atilla. I'll just show up. Maybe I'll have Kentucky Pete cook up a New York Times Press Pass," I continue, brainstorming.

   "Even better make it an MTV one," he says and we laugh and slap high five.

   "Ok, so I'm going for free but I can't be at every venue. I need to find out which local yahoo debuts their latest protest song."

   "I'm one step ahead of you boss. I looked into it and the bands are having a fest benefit meeting tonight at XXXXXXXXX. I signed us up to perform. They said the fest was full but I broke out the Trans card, sweetened it with a disease, and Boom they bit. We're in!"

   "You get a raise. Let me grab a disguise and let's go!"

We arrive at the benefit planning meeting just as they are starting. I feign a physical handicap because one of the husks from Dear Darkness may have recognized me. Not even she would accost a cripple. Maybe. I think. I have my vocal recorder. The following is a transcription from the planning meet-up for Hamtramck For Ukraine:

   "Ok people we currently have a lineup that is guaranteed to spark zero interest. Yes, this is an issue. However, with the multi-venue, staggered format it allows all the bands time to fill in as an audience for the others' sets."

   "How exactly does this help the Ukraine?

   "You are missing the point."

   "What is the point?"

   "Nobody is paying $20 for this and we need to accept that. At this point we all need to save face and at least get a few pics, hopefully some with a crowd, maybe upload them with a Ukraine flag filter."

   "I'm out. Ukraine will be old news by the time this happens."

   "You are not an ally!"

*Mild inaudible dialogue*

Woodman finally shows up.

   "Sorry, what did I miss. I was at the pub."

   "I don't know."

*Multiple voices (inaudible)*

   "Ok, so who is covering 'People Have the Power'?"

   "I think The Gashounds are."

   "No, The Gashounds are covering 'Power To the People'."

   "The Hourlies are covering 'People Have the Power'."

   "Wait. So The Gashounds and the Hourlies are covering the same goddamn song?"

   "No, they are two separate songs. Different artists." 'People Have the Power" is Patty Smyth. 'Power to the People' is John Lennon"

   "Isn't it the Plastic Ono Band?"

   "Got it. Is that from the "Sometime in New York City' album? The one with 'Woman is the Nigger of the World?"

   "I don't think so but I'm not sure."

   "Wait! My band is totally calling 'Woman is the Nigger of the World' right now!"

   "No, none of that. That is so two years ago. We need to focus on the present situation, the protest."

   "This is not a protest. It's a benefit."

   "If somebody says there is a song that is uhhhh, ahhhh, 'N-word is the Woman of the World' I am going to have a complete mental breakdown, especially if it's Patti Smith."

   "I don't think so, but Patti has a song called 'Rock and Roll Nigger', and nobody has claimed that one yet."

   "Ok, we all need to relax. Chill out. Maybe take a break and go to Kelly's. They still sell drugs right?"

   "But Kelly's isn't even participating in the protest," someone is weeping.

   "Not a protest. Benefit, dude."

   "So who is doing 'Rock and Roll Nigger'?"

   "Listen you lintheads, nobody is doing a song with nehh....nehhh... god dammit!"

The room tenses up. Everyone is on edge, waiting for it. The girl from The Whiskey Charmers begins to cry. We are almost at the Vanishing Point.

   "C'mon Darren. Nobody is doing a song with what again in it?" someone says. Oh no. It was me. I couldn't resist it, the cover is blown...

   "Who is that?" some asks, finally noticing me as I fumble with the voice recorder and grip the can of Chemical Billy.

   "I am, uh, in the last minute band that signed up. Hey That's My Shoe. My assistant, I mean bandmate signed us up. We have, er, a black bass player so we can, ah, maybe be of use in regards to the diversity of this benefit," I stammer, trying to clean up the mess. I even show them a picture of Oakley, our black personal trainer in LA that I keep on me for situations like these.

   "Cool dude. We can totally use an ally like you. We tried to get Sheefy but he is so stoned these days he won't even know about the Ukraine until August at the latest and by that time it will be time for the Hamtramck Music Festival and the subsequent voting rights benefit for the midterms."

   "Whoa whoa whoa," somebody else says, "According to your application from somebody named Attilla, you say you have a trans person in your band, NOT a black person."

   "Well, Oakley here in this photo is trans. And also black. Does he (whoops), they have to be white? Are you prejudiced?" Checkmate.

   "No no no, oh god no. Please don't say that," the geek says, his eyes welling up with tears.

   "It also says that They have Ai...uhhhh, oh man," he continues then whispers to Darren, "Hey, can I say this out loud here?" then back to me, "It says they are sick." He says "sick" with a full body shudder.

   "They'll be fine for the show," I reassure them.

   "But in the pic he looks very healthy, very good. He almost could be in movies, or at least a personal trainer," someone else says, Jesus Christ, these people.

   "It's an old pic. He's been in a movie. The pic is an old pic. He's actually doing better. I got the pic from my mind."

   "Okay. I think."

   "With that settled, we need to address the elephant in the room," the guy they call "Darren" says.

   "Every act on the bill has requested to play 'Give Peace A Chance'. We cannot have 21 bands, well 22 with Hey That's My Shoe, all playing god damn 'Give Peace A Chance'."

   "Not us man," I interrupt, fully in character now, riding the crest of a deep seeded psychological episode, "Because of Oakley's condition we don't play any songs written or composed by white people." I say this while smiling a smug, curt, look at the geeks in Womb Worm. I notice a girl from a band I've never heard of leering at me, just salivating at my lies and bravado. I wonder if she's for sale.

The guy they call "Darren" interrupts my fever daydream where I take her back to the JCMsTown Compound and give her a good three days in what Attila calls "The Kennel" and then

   "Ok, so we can't have 21 bands all playing the same fucking song," Darren shouts.

   "Well since out contract says we have to play every fest I think it should be us," Stacy from Dear Darkness says, no whines.

   "I included it on our application," the guy from Solar Monolith.

   "We've actually been playing it since 2019," the guy from Counter Elites says while subtly breaking a beer bottle.

   "Fuck this. We were the first band to apply. We are playing 'Give Peace A Chance'," the twerp from Womb Worm I meanmugged earlier shouts, trembling.

   "You prick. They asked you to play. You didn't even apply," the skullcracker from Grand Heft yells, "and for that, WE are doing 'Give Peace A Chance"!"

   "Maybe you should do 'Give Shit A Chance' you pig," the yahoo from Womb Worm shouts, spit flying everywhere, nobody wearing masks, and he then runs to hide behind Ricky Rat, who has been asleep the entire time.

   "Somebody wake up Ricky Rat. Get him a speedball or something. Somebody has to have Dave Grohl on speed dial! Woodman?"

   "Nahhh, sorry I was late. At the pub."

A window breaks.

   "How much are we shaving off of the cover charge? I can't keep charging $11 spritzers to seven people," the rep from Smalls yells as another window breaks and a cloud of flies swarm in covering, no coating, Sleepin' Ricky Rat.

   "They have a good point comrades. If we are charging $20 for this what am I going to say to my regulars who just want to drink? This is going to end up costing me money!"

   "He's right! Fuck this. And fuck the Ukraine for that matter. Costing me money too. I drove here tonight."

   "We are getting off track. The Ukraine has no idea we are doing this. If it gets that bad we just won't give them anything and just keep it. Nobody will remember by Tuesday. I repeat, the Ukraine has no idea we are doing this."

   "Yeah, well nobody else does either," some miscreant yells, breaking a pool cue.

   "Be polite. We will worry about the money later. We just need to get through this weekend."

   "Fuck the weekend! And fuck all of you. We are doing 'Give Peace A Chance'!" the miscreant yells.

   "No fuck you," some guy from a band I've never heard of shouts and another window breaks, more flies, and a small fire is lit in the corner of XXXXXX by the owner who was complaining about money earlier. Another window shatters. I am messing with my vocal recorder and don't see the guy from some band I have never heard of break another pool cue and I look up to see him stick it into the guy from some band I've never heard of's neck spraying a geyser of blood, some of it already turning purple, onto the guy they call "Darren", the neck basically just hanging there, and then it begins.

The girl who was giving me the "Fuck Me' eyes earlier is on the ground being trampled by geezers racing to get away from the riot which has now consumed half the building. I consider hopping in to help her but realize it'll probably just be a coma at worst and decide not to. Instead I break out the can of Chemical Billy and just start macing everyone within reach, even those that are just trying to escape or just stay out of the way. Woodman has changed, shifted, pupils dilated, sprouting hair, more hair, and he starts belly bumping people through the windows that haven't been shattered yet.

   The guy from Whiskey Charmers is sitting in the corner, openly crying, playing "The Times Are A Changin'" on a banjo that the guy whose band I've never heard of wanted to use to play "The Times Are A Changin'", but is now unconscious on the ground, a pool cue stuck in his neck, and the bartender is currently bleeding him, transferring the blood into a mason jar labeled simply "Record Store Kid". I would assume that the remaining members of the committee still functioning are writing this off as some type of accident. A mass suicide.

After five minutes more of that scene I am back in the car with Attilla, who had been waiting the entire time and we are driving to the desert, I mean City Club, where I hope to meet a real hardbody bombshell with the least amount of diseases possible although that is not a deal breaker. At the very least I hope to use the rest of the mace. As we were making our getaway thankfully Attila activated the Growler that we hooked up to the Silver Hornet. The Growler is a mobile sound unit that emits such unholy shrieks and roars that every human within a radius of 10 city blocks is paralyzed with unbearable pain. The Growler is what eventually woke Ricky Rat up, finally, and he immediately started bleeding from his eyes.

   "What happened back there? I thought I heard screams," Attilla asks, half interested, but might be interested.

   "You said 'thought'. I like that. Keep it. We'll need it. It was just the typical local meet-up committee cheapjack thing. A few disagreements. Nothing too serious," I reply, chewing on a lock of hair I cut off from the Coma Girl.

   "I see. Well that's good I think. Right?" he asks looking for a sign, a signal. I nod, then shake my head just to play with him.

   "I thought I heard screams for a while there," he repeats, boring me further.

   "Of course. They are really passionate about this cause," I reassure him and then continue on a path I don't see an end to, "Did you know that I think Kristen Stewart is one of the cutest people in show business? Totally a peach, despite her aloof, sometimes bitchy, attitude."

   "Does she play tambourine?" Atilla asks, a tired joke, obviously scared at this point, as he should be.

   "Did you know that I think Kristen Stewart is one of the cutest people in Hollywood?" I reply, ignoring him, "I would like to meet Kristen Stewart one day and maybe I will."

*Disclaimer 2- The above is satire. If you don't get it then you are a lost cause. If you want to go to the fest here is the flyer below. If you don't but still want to donate find Unicef for Ukraine online. This is probably my last local music fest preview and I tried my best to cover all the bases for my degenerate fanbase. It has been fun. Have a few posts left before this site is retired. Thank for tl;dr'ing!

From the Iceman Commeth,

Dr. Bryan Metro

 

   

2022 Corktown Music Fest Preview

 From the National Affairs Desk-

Dear lord how are any of these venues still open??? Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself.

I have received numerous missives at the National Affairs Desk regarding the Corktown Music Fest that is happening this weekend and whether I would be previewing it. Well here ya go! This "Fest" is taking place March 4th and 5th, which used to be around the time we played all those Metro Times Blowouts. Safe to say that the hype for this is not at that level. As referenced in my last post, the essential "Next To Last Tango In Vegas", there is just no local music scene anymore.

When contemplating previewing it I initially thought, "No! I'm tired. I don't have it in me anymore." That part is not satire. I really am at the end. However, the cause caught my eye. It benefits " 4 Paws 1 Heart" an animal rescue. Now you have my attention. Anyone with a pulse (my condolences) knows that I/the JCM have supported animal rescue for years including donating every dime from our last show to the Lincoln Park animal shelter. At first glance, 4 Paws 1 Heart is described as a non-profit 501 CC, and you know how I feel about those. You may remember I shut down the Hamtramck Music Festival's cheapjack non-profit scam back in 2017 or something because they were either profiting or inept which is why they now have the "vague" donate to the schools angle they use to this day (or did). Boxes of crayons etc as the members of the committee are dealing with bankruptcy. It's an old story and we are already wandering. I am going to give 4 Paws 1 Heart the benefit of the doubt because I am too lazy to get into all that again. It looks to be a reputable deal and if it turns out to be otherwise I will bring down the fire so hard, so savage, they'll be spending their last moments as an org crying next to the owners of the venues for this Fest who are trying to sell $0.50 on the dollar or just busting out like the Oakland Hills golf club did last week.. Or I'll just break out The Growler. We're wandering again. Here is the link to 4 Paws 1 Heart:

4 Paws 1 Heart

But before we get to the Fest, the past few weeks have seen a deluge of friends and fools asking for my take on the new Jack White video and the Amino Acids situation.  For those in the dark, JW posted a new video for his latest disappointment "Fear of the Dawn", and some people, namely The Amino Acids themselves started whining that there were some similarities between their act and the video. Here is the video:

Fear of the Snore

And here is a photo of The Amino Acids:

Good lord, the guts in there. I'm not linking to their shit, and I do emphasize shit. Upon reviewing the video I did pick up on some similarities. Yes, both have masks. Yes, a theremin is involved. But really, who cares. If the Amino Acids would have caught on outside of the insulated lame local music scene this wouldn't have been a conversation. I mean it's 2022. Any hanger-on waterhead acting like a complete queerjack can be found outside any Kroger playing a theremin. And the masks.... Both Jack White and the AA's (pun intended ho ho ho) obviously stole that concept from the final JCM show at Simons in Lincoln Park where we raised over $200 for local animal rescue (segue alert) and some of the band and even some of the 17 people who showed up wore similar masks because of the death threats at the time. The header photo is from that night, E First and Kentucky Pete.

Now the Amino Acids have been around forever. One of my first local shows as a young punk was around 2003 at Lager House (which will be hosting the Corktown Fest and will require vaccination papers despite being one of the most heavily hit places with Covid outbreaks in Detroit). While parking and hooking up The Growler for breakin's I noticed a bunch of geezers pulling stockings over their heads giggling like a bunch of Reds. I remember telling my date that if we were still dating in 2022 and I was still involved in the local music scene, putting on masks to just fucking kill me.  Thankfully I never saw her again.

So here's my "take" friends and fools. The AA's have been around forever and hit their ceiling back at that show in 2013. They should be thanking Jack White and Ben Blackwell for semi-ripping them off because this is the most anyone has talked about them in years. And by anyone I mean the Amino's themselves, their burner accounts, and Woodman who will be the first in line for a photo op with Jack at the next Negro League game.  In closing, I find everybody involved insufferable. I will never forget one of the Amino on/off drones Scott Boyn@k suggesting somebody kill all of my animals on social media, this even after I publicly shared crowdsourcing for his squeeze who was sick at the time. But in the end, I hold no ill will towards anyone involved in this tiresome local drama. I hope the Amino Acids get their just due after all these years (DMA???). I hope Jack has continued success making mediocre music. And I one day hope to share a beer with Scott. Enough of this. On to the Corktown Music Fest Preview!

Usually with these previews I like to take the act, find a video or a song and do a quick review. Time is not on our side these days. So for this edition. I will take the act, try to look them up, and see if there are any doffs to be foubd. It really is the only fair way. Since nobody cares about any local music anymore we might as well focus on what matters. The doffs. All the doffs.

Ooops, sorry wrong file. Here is the flier for the Corktown Music Fest so you can plan your whatever.

Okay. The preview. 

Friday-

The Gashounds- Geezers. No doff

Phil Profitt and His Fast Fortunes- Geezers. No doff, but a master in irony because I doubt they've ever drew a dime.

Sros Lords- No doff. Been around forever.

Warhorses- Drummer female. Angry doff.

St. Thomas Boys Academy- I'm not looking that up. I'll leave it to [REDACTED]

Werewolves-No doff

Bourbon Squirrel- No doff

Crimson Eyed Orchestra. Good lord no doffs

Switchblade Vengeance- No doff. Are all of these acts comprised of the same people.

Boogie something something- No doff

You know what, I give up. I'm not sure I'm going to make it to this Fest. And I have a weird feeling that most of you won't as well. However, my hope is that some of you will despite every act being the same band. Of course that's hyperbole but you know what I mean. I think it is very important that everyone get out and have fun and support local businesses, many of which may not even be around for next year's Corktown Music Fest. I know we are in the gallows of a pandemic....oh wait, we're not anymore. Oh cool. Then get out and support your local music even if there may not be any doff's. And if you can't make it out (like me) you can always visit the 4 Paws 1 Heart website and donate the cost of a wristband to a worthy cause. Here is the link again just to drive it home:

Do Something Good For Once

To those who venture out, have Fun and I hope to see a full report/review on another local music blog/entertainment site.

From the Iceman Commeth,

Dr. Bryan Metro

Next To the Last Tango in Vegas: Death Match Interlude

Death matches and ruminations on the cusp of World War 3.

From the National Affairs Desk-

Writer's Note: The following is an excerpt from a project I have been working on for most of last year. It became clear, very quick, last Spring, that the local music scene will never be back to what it used to be in my lifetime. I needed to turn my focus to bigger topics. So I got vaxxed up, got my card, lost all the excuses, and decided to hit the West Coast (Vegas) and the East (New York), and just put my feet down on the terra and absorb what it was like living in and out of a pandemic in 2021/22. No issues, demographics, agenda, biases be spared. It was supposed to be a two part post here but it ballooned into something....more. "This could actually be a book," I said to myself many a time. And I think it will as long as, well enough of that. I didn't set out to write the Definitive Pandemic Novel, but I guess that's what ended up happening ho ho ho. It wears its influences in the open and has enough truth, fiction, humor, etc. to please anybody or nobody. It is called "Adventures in the Dumb Life" and I hope to have it finished....soon.

   The following is an excerpt, most of which won't be in the book. In it, the narrator is preparing to go to the West Coast and is distracted by an old friend wanting to go to an underground death match fight in Southwest Detroit. Since it falls under the umbrella of post-pandemic social interaction, I include it here.

"An underground cage match, no, death match, headlined by some miscreant with a felony record with a litany of blood diseases against some local schlomo willing to be debased in front of 60-plus unvaccinated swingers for only $25? You do realize that I am due to depart for Vegas in over a week? Do you realize what I could be bringing onto that flight? Ah, fuck it. Sign me up. I'm in."

   I am talking to Kentucky Pete and he has just floated the idea of ruining my entire book project before it even gets started by attending an outlaw cheapjack bloodfest cage fight, underground, off the books, blood party in Southwest Detroit.

   "It's at the Knights of Columbus in Detroit. Larkins street. You should know it," K Pete says.

He was right. I knew it. I knew the venue well. I grew up a mile away and have been there many times, the last being for my father's memorial where I ended up completely, well we're wandering here. According to my notes it is currently shut down but still holds "events" like this. I have no idea who owns it, rents it, profits from it and I don't care. In 2020 a few tipsters contacted me that the police academy graduations were held there and there were no masks and that the Mayor of Detroit was even there and there were no masks, but I didn't bother to post on it because shortly after Benny Napolean died from the Bug and Holy Shit what a story this could be! The Big Break! But the vibe was too dicey and it was the holidays, so I never verified any of that so for the Public Record: None of that ever happened! Once again, we're wandering here so, moving along, this invite to the death fights seems like a hiccup on the surface, but fuck it, let's see. But before any of that, there was still work to be done

Copyrights on the Cusp of a Death Party

Up until that point I was trying to obtain as many presses passes as possible for my Vegas trip as there were multiple big game fights the weekend I was scheduled to fly out. I had moderate success but ultimately needed more. My only option was to call back Kentucky Pete, the old friend from my days in retail and probably one of the biggest con artists I know, and more importantly, trust. Back in 2003, well...we're wandering again. These days K Pete is running a highly profitable music and sport memorabilia bootleg operation, fleecing poor dingbats out of thousands of dollars, selling reproductions of any type of merch you can imagine. He informed me that he has templates for press credentials for the Los Angeles Lakers, the NFL, Hour Detroit, and the Metro Times (ho ho ho). He also agreed to throw in an authentic Ceasar's Palace Media Badge that he bought from a pimp outside of Our Lady Queen of Angels in SW Detroit.

Instead of meeting him at some elaborate printing Darkroom I found myself at a Walgreens in Garden City...

   "Are you nuts?" I ask/yell, "You print this shit at a fucking Walgreens? This visit alone violates at least six copyright laws. We are looking at six months and at least a $250,000 fine. Look at this file. You even named it 'NFL Fraud'! We're doomed!"

  "Calm down," his reply, handing me a Van Halen IPA from Rockford Brewing and for all I know is a repurposed Bud Light,, "Hey, I'm a fool for doing your dirty work, oh yeah. Here drink this and don't worry. They know me here. Besides the evening crew actually think I work here. I had some uniforms made at the Walmart a few miles away. Target, Walmart, Walgreens. You want any?"

The IPA hit me hard but we went in anyway so I did not initially register when K Pete noticed the new employee.

   "Fuck, this guy's new. Just a kid. I've never seen him before. Last thing we need is some gunslinger bozo looking to make a name for himself at my expense. Let's get out of here. There's a place down the road...."

   "Jesus, my plane leaves in a week. I need these press passes. You need the bootleg deathmatch merch. How am I supposed to complete the assignment because you don't know some twerp?" I am flustered.
   "Well, it's your call. Never mind, it's too late now. He saw us."

We both approach the counter and K Pete gives the bozo the files.

   "The Los Angeles Lakers AND the NFL? Copies? Do you have permission to reproduce these?" the geek asks.

Well this was it. The entire trip, zapped by some linthead with morals.

   "Dammit, we need these passes. Get me the waiver. I'll sign it. I'll sign anything," K Pete yells as his fifth Van Hazy IPA spills on the counter, "This man is a writer and has to cover the pandemic next week for the NFL AND the Lakers!"

   "Don't bring me into this," I mutter.

   "Sir, I think I should get the manager's approval."

   "Are you prepared to lose your job?" K Pete was on a roll, "I'm here every day. This man with me is a close personal friend of the LA Lakers, Al Davis, part of the family."

That did it. The bozo finally printed them up and K Pete signed the waiver explaining afterward that he uses his neighbors' information and ID which he also bootlegged at that very Walgreens a month ago.

   "Don't worry about any of that," he tells me back on the road laughing hysterically, "that kid will be out of a job in days. I always use Roger next door. That poor guy is 80 years old and has no idea why total strangers are knocking on his door at nine in the morning once a month."

Things had turned grim but I had my fraudulent press passes and as an added bonus, K Pete threw in a treasure trove of bogus vaccination cards.

   "You never know," he said cryptically, "You might need some quick cash in a pinch and some petite teen fresh out of homeroom might need to get in that club."

He had a point. So I grabbed them and went back to the JCM'sTown Compound. My assistant, Sebastian Owl, was not happy.

   "You are going to this death match and Las Vegas with at least eight illegal press passes!"

   "Seven, the Raiders one is legit."

Political Districts, Steaks, Sinatra Tattoos on the Day of the Show

     The heavens are pouring the day of the show as I take the Silver Hornet to pick up that rat bastard Kentucky Pete. In addition to the absolute cesspool of a neighborhood we were about to crawl into, we also had the additional work of the drive down there. Normally this would not be an issue. However, last year that waterhead assistant Sebastian Owl put two pro-Biden decals on the Silver Hornet violating the "No Politics" rule of the JCM'sTown Compound (and this blog). If this was early 2021 it would not be an issue. However, now, the decals pose a serious problem. We will be going from a decent suburb to an okay suburb back to a decent suburb through a so-so suburb into a horrible suburb. The only logical decision would be to stop off at JCM HQ, the bikini bar made famous for [REDACTED].

I arrive and immediately notice the pair of jumper cables on top of the Metallica pinball machine, an ominous warning. Undeterred, I unload my folder of printouts and maps. Like clockwork, the waitress, a former dancer with full-size portrait tattoos of Frank Sinatra and Benjamin Franklin on her back asks, "What are you working on? Are you a writer?"

   "Of course. I'm on assignment covering the death matches downtown. Are you familiar?"

Her eyes start to tear up. She is familiar.

   "Anyway, these papers are printouts of the last election results divided into precincts from here to this show I have to cover in SW Detroit. You see, my normally trustworthy assistant botched the car by putting Biden decals on it violating the JCM "No Politics....."

   "Oh no, why?" the Lifer asks, suddenly emotional. I look at my results of the political prescient breakdown for this area. Yep. Check.

   "Too late to worry about that now," I console, "You see, I have a couple of rags and some duct tape....no no no, you have no reason to worry. My other assistant, are you following this, and I are going to have to tape the rags over the political decals and remove them depending on the location. I anticipate having to do this around four times each way during the 30 minute drive. Do you get it?"

   She is already at the next table, telling her latest sob story, and I do not have the time to ask about her full back tattoo so, with my mood already soured and panic starting to seep in, I left. There was no more story left there.

I arrive at Kentucky Pete's early as always and he is already on the front lawn arguing with someone I've never seen before, possibly an arab. I wait until it cools down and then decide to slam the horn.

   "What was that about?" I ask, half interested, as I speed off.

   "Oh that's just Manny, some ribbonhead from my work. Owes me money for this print job I..."

   "Here, take these," I yell handing him the rags and political district printouts, having heard that story before, "We are going to have to stop around four or five times to check the area and tape these rags over the political decals on this car."

   "Yeahhhhhh, I noticed those. What's the story?"

   "Neighborhood kids," I lie saving my assistant the shame, "Vandals. Savages. In our day we egged the street, all the squares. Now its all political decals. Its ruthless."

   "Pigs! I would have killed them if they pulled that with me."

   "Not so fast. According to my notes we are entering a friendly district."

   "Fuck! I forgot my mask. There are going to be so many people at this thing. We have to go back," K Pete is ecstatic. 

   "No chance. We're already running late because of your dust up with that balloonhead back there. We'll have to stop on the way."

   "Are you sure? Masks are scarce. They were giving them away at the Meijer back there but there was an incident..."

    "Trust me. There's a feeling I get when I look to the west."

   "Damn right. Yabba dabba doo!"

I pull into a Walgreens so he can get his silly mask while I switch out the decal rags.

   "Oh man, we can't stop here. This is where I am banned for that printing scam. You remember? From last month. Screw it. I'll be right back."

I start to nod off when he rushes back in.

   "Let's go. I got the masks. Boosted them. They were asking for it," he is ecstatic. 

I blast the Silver Hornet into the intersection leaving the rags and political district printouts flying in the wake. We were on our own now.

   "Slow down, not so fast," he advises, "There are always cops around here."

   "Dear god man, make up your mind!" I am ecstatic. 

I take a slight detour and stop off at a local mid-level steakhouse to cool off. I hadn't eaten in two days so it was the logical thing to do. Kentucky Pete is already barking orders.

   "Just get me the same as you, but medium well. I know how you operate you fucking vampire. I need to make a call."

Well okay then. And he was off to make his call. I took the moment of peace to...

   "Hello, what can I get for you today?" the waitress asks, no back tattoos.

   "Jesus! Sorry. One high powered craft beer for my friend. He's Mexican. High tolerance. Weak bladder. You know the type. For me, the lowest percent beer you have on tap. Non-alcoholic if that's the case. 25 percent of my liver was burned off two years ago so it only takes a little to get me a rocking and a rollin'. Do you know what I mean? Also, two center cut big bangers, one medium, one medium well.

   "What are you working on? Are you a writer?" Jesus not this again, secretly liking the attention.

   "Yes, I'm on assignment covering the death match bloodfest bug chase downtown. Wait, what political district are we in? Never mind. One medium, one medium well. Get it right. This is important."

She is confused, which is understandable because of my codes, and shuffles off. K Pete returns and we eat a respectable dinner without incident. Thankfully the Lifer got the order right. As we are finishing up our steaks I begin to notice the staff flipping the chairs and killing the blinds. Because it is only 6pm I ask the waitress what was going on. Oh jesus, the lights just went out as well.

   "We're closing," she answers.

   "Ah, sorry for dragging our feet. Employee holiday party? Private event?"

   "No," she snaps, "We. Are. Closing. The restaurant is closing. We just found out. I no longer have a job. Another drink?"

   "No, we are in a hurry."

After she leaves to get our tab K Pete breaks the uncomfortable silence.

   "Obvious cash grab. Just fishing for extra tips. I bet they pull this every Friday at 6. This place will be in flames by next week. Bust out. I have a guy I can call..."

   "No let's split. If this place really is shutting down those political decals on the car are going to doom us. We're going to have 15 teenage dishboys waiting for us out there. Besides, we're running back on time. We can stop at the Lager House to prime our pumps," I suggest.

   "But we lost the rags and political moosh moosh. What if somebody sees the political decals and blows out the window?" He is on edge.

   "Jesus man. It's the Lager House. The windows are being busted out regardless. This is despite the vandal demographic....oh god, never mind."

After four more phone calls by Kentucky Pete we are back on the road. We arrive at Lager House as the staff are flipping the chairs and locking the doors. The barmaid remembers me and K Pete from ten years ago when I smuggled 30 bottles of Bud Light in a gig bag for a JCM show despite them not selling the brand at the time.

   "Holiday party? Private event? Sold out? Ho ho ho just kidding," I ask, I think.

   "No we're closing. We just got word that two of our staff tested positive for The Bug and a few more who attended a show last week did as well, which makes no sense because there were a total of only five people at the shows last week," she explains, actually starting to cry.

   "Sounds heavy," I try to console.

   "Thanks for stopping by. We hope to see you when we are back up and running," she says, genuine.

   "Don't count on it," Kentucky Pete mutters opening a bottle of Bud Light he must have stolen from the Walgreens or steakhouse. 

   The barmaid bursts into tears and we are off, bypassing the casino (our backup plan). During all this K Pete informs me that the venue has been moved from the Knights of Colombus on Larkins to Harpo's (dear lord) due to the fact that the Knights of Columbus is no longer police protected. Thankfully, we get to Harpo's 15 minutes before the start time, but only to see a line of around 100 rib-sucking freaks snaked around the building. K Pete is horrified.

   "Imagine the smell. I'm not going in there. Let's go home," K Pete is breaking down.

   "C'mon man, get it together," I shout, trying my best, "I am the day. THE DAY Dammit. I can show you the way. I'm right beside you. Let's be real here."

   "You are pulling some serious shit with me right now. But you're right. We have to do this," he rationalizes as he takes a pull from a quart of Wild Turkey I must have missed, probably also stolen from that Walgreens.

   "Now you're talking," I shout, "this is the type of local coverage that needs to, HAS, to be done."

This was going to be a long night. After spilling half a can of light beer all over the car and stuffing it under the seat, K Pete ponders, "We survived the Lager House by the skin of our teeth. Who's to say that one of these cheapjacks isn't going to bust into the car. Should we just go home?"

Good lord. This again.

   "I'd like to see someone try to bust out this baby," I laugh, "The entire car is boobytrapped. I rigged it two nights ago with my neighbor. I know you have seen the box on the back seat, the one with 'Fragile/Important' written on it. You have been staring at it all night you criminal slug. That box is filled with three rats that Scottie, the dwarf neighbor, caught last week. He knew I was going to be in this area of town so he snatched them up before the dogs could get them. Scottie and me have been starving these fuckers for almost a week. Imagine grabbing that box and getting home to that! At this point I almost want somebody to break in."

   "Dear god......"

   "Damn right. And if some Midnight Intruder misses the box and goes straight for the trunk, even better. Scottie and I drugged his pit bull this morning."

   "Oh no, why?" K Pete is starting to crack and the acid I took way back when I picked him up is starting to really kick in.

   "No worries. The dog is in the trunk. If some derelict pries it open the dog should be just about waking up. Basically any Red that comes close to this vehicle is doomed, just completely destroyed."

   "Jesus, we never even needed to cover the political decals to begin with. This is madness."

   "Yes. Now you get it. Now, let's go!"

   The vibe inside the venue was mellow but tense. Kentucky Pete hit his meet and greets while I focused on all the signed band photos on the wall, wondering how/why JCM wasn't up there. We never ended up seeing any of the action because the waterheads at Harpo's decided to set up the ring in the "Pit" instead of the stage, which means that nobody could see any of the no-name jobbers carve themselves up. There wasn't even a video feed. We ended up watching the show on K Pete's phone using a pirated feed as it was happening.

   "Can't see shit. Such a fraud. Plus, we're probably going to catch The Bug. Nobody here is masked," K Pete is starting to really slip so I strike up a conversation with some stereotype.

   "If you really think about it, 'She Loves You' is probably the best Beatles song?" but I make sure to frame it as a question. 

   "What the fuck are you talking about? My boyfriend is right over there on that table by the way. Can't see shit," she yells, unnecessarily agitated.

   "Yeah yeah yeah," K Pete chimes in, well played, obviously eavesdropping. 

   "Yabba dadda doo," I add, upping the harassment level, and then under my breath, "Bitch".

The night has turned sour and we aren't even at intermission. It doesn't help that we have managed to piss off multiple employees and alarm more than a few fans. In fact only 15 minutes prior, K Pete attempted to use the medical tape signed by local legend Sabu to hoist himself to the rafters so he could actually see the action. The tape ended up getting caught in a ceiling fan and he ended up flying through a table which actually got a better crowd reaction than the action in the ring. 

   "Just tell them you're suicidal," I attempt to explain, "they'll probably take pity on you and let you backstage." Which is exactly what happened and that heathen ended up lifting multiple ring worn items and a pair of Chelsea Green's panties, or so he said, which he ended up letting me keep as a favor for the idea even though I know that trash-bag doesn't wear panties. The acid had peaked and depression had begun to set in. It was time to go.

   "It might be time to go," I say to him.

   "Bullshit. We paid good money for this. All I've got I've had to steal," he is drunk.

   "Right on. Me too," I am getting there.

   "My legacy....never had to beg or borrow."

   "Of course. You know me. Right now I'm living at a pace that kills," I am on board, high five, a few more matches, "Yabba dabba doo."

Fifteen minutes later K Pete and I are officially, criminally drunk, just absolute heathens. K Pete had a head start and continued with the high octane drink and had entered the dreaded "introspective zone". It was time to go.

   "Hey man. All I want is a woman who is drunk all the time," oh boy, here we go. 

   "Hey hey what can I do? I only know three women."

   "Women seem wicked when you're unwanted," he leans in whispering, yet manic, "That girl back there, the one who snapped at us with the boyfriend on the table...that fucker. Some guys take a beautiful girl like that and hide her away from the rest of the world. When is she gonna live her life man?"

   "Jesus man, you're drunk. That bootleg Van Halen beer really twisted you up. Complete rambling. We need to go. How about you? What are you going to do with your life?" I snap back, ready to go.

   "Whoa man, take it easy. I was just kidding. You know me. I wanna be the one to walk in the sun.

   "Yeah yeah yeah," I concede, followed by another high five.

We have missed the last two matches because of this absurd conversation, not that we would have seen them, and the assignment was officially a Bust. I will just find the results later and fill in some blanks.

   "Hey pal, we can't see shit. I think it's time to go," K Pete has finally began to see the light, but I have other ideas.

   "Not yet. Let's sneak into the VIP ringside area and try to at least see something. I have these press passes and they already think you are a suicidal nut because of that hit job you pulled earlier with the ceiling fan. Why don't you lead the way!" I propose giving him a wide berth to push his way through the crowd while I have my hand on the can of 'Chemical Billy' in case any tough guy or their jilly has an issue.

We make it down the stairs to the VIP area and still can't see any of the action. The crowd is going nuts but nobody is in the ring. What we failed to realize is that the two nobodies selling their souls for a buck had left the ring, begun fighting through the crowd, and had actually circled around and were behind us. I had missed all of it while monitoring K Pete weaving his way through the crowd spilling drinks. I turned around just as No Name 1 was about to toss No Name 2 down the stairs which would have struck K Pete and ruined our entire scam. In a completely surreal moment, much better than the acid could provide, we actually watched this happen both in person and on the broadcast which K Pete was still pirating on his phone. To triplicate matters he managed to screenshot it as seen below. It was time to go.

   "It's an absolute crime that we only saw a few minutes of the entire thing so far," K Pete said after we were kicked out of the VIP area after I ended up macing the guy who dove down the steps.

   "What do you think about getting that pit bull from the trunk out there and just letting that rabid monster right into the VIP area, straight into the ring," my wheels are turning, "That's not all I have in the trunk. While prepping for my west coast trip I picked up a 'Nutcracker Flail'. It is a combination club and pincers about three feet long that can cripple about anybody here. It works like a huge pair of pliers. First you 'flail' the living shit out of anybody you can reach, and then when they fall, and they will fall, you swiftly apply the 'nutcracker' action, gripping the victim's neck, extremities, or genitals with the powerful pincers at the 'reaching end' and then squeezing until all resistance ceases."

   "Ahhhh man I should have brought my Growler. I just picked one up," K Pete shouts.

        

   "Wait, you have a Growler?!" I am impressed. The Growler is a mobile sound unit that emits such unholy shrieks and roars that every human within a radius of ten city blocks is paralyzed with unbearable pain. They collapse in their tracks and curl up like worms, losing all control of their bowels and bleeding from their ears. I continue...

   "While the dog is tearing up the joint we just rush in and cream everybody with the Nutcracker!"

   "Whoa whoa whoa man. Bad ju ju. Why don't we just leave?"

   "Listen man I know....that things are really rough, everybody gets you," I try to explain.

   "Exactly! Life is really tough!" he is weeping.

   "It's okay. I know that deep down inside there's a feeling that rides all the way to the end."

   "Hey man, I just wanted to catch a mudshow wrestling thing. I had no idea we were wading into this madness. Protocols, no protocols, police districts..."

   "Political districts," I correct.

   "Same thing. I just wanted a good time, without any fear. I had no idea what I was getting into."

   "I understand. Hope everything is alright," I offer.

   "Hope everything is alright?" he replies, coming down.

   "Hope everything is alright."

I drop Kentucky Pete off and head back to the JCM'sTown Compound. The next day I wake up feeling gassed, fatigued, just absolutely sick so I book myself a professional Bug test because I am days away from heading to Vegas. It came back negative. I am invincible. Nothing can harm me. It was time to go to Vegas. And I have a Nutcracker Flail. Yadda Dabba Doo.

From the Iceman Commeth,

Dr. Bryan Metro

*Note- The "Nutcracker Flail" and "Growler" descriptions are courtesy of Scanlan's Monthly June 1970, forever the Honor Roll.

Hello 2022 and the Great 30 Days Of Horror

 From the National Affairs Desk-

*Let's get this out of the way real quick. If anything that follows is offensive or you feel should be taken down please e-mail bryanmetro1@hotmail and I will remove it and offer an apology. It's that simple.

Hey all Metro here. Yes, I am still working on my legitimate journalism "A Year in the Life of Covid" project when I travel the entire country experiencing how people are adjusting, readjusting to the peaks and valleys of a pandemic. As always, I work at my own pace, some days three pages, some days two sentences. I will post it when I feel it cuts the mustard, or is finished, whichever comes first ho ho ho.

However, someone sent me a fun distraction, one of those cheesy internet games where they try to steal your passwords etc. This one is the "Horror Movie Challenge". 30 days, 30 horror questions designed to delve into your personal psyche. If anything's worth doing it's worth doing right.

I was going to try this as a post a day for 30 days, but I would have gotten bored or forget by Day 4. Plus, it would intrude on my pandemic project. So, I'll just blast out all 30 days now. Feel free to leave your own personal memories, bank information, passwords, subpoenas, etc. Also, unrelated, I have had a few people message me saying they are having trouble accessing this site on some devices. The tech team is on "leave" so I can't really help you there. Ah shit, then you wouldn't even be seeing this to begin with... For those who ignore the bogus virus alerts I can definitely assure you that we at Lavender are not hacking you, just matching the moles. This would explain the decrease in readership lately, although we have had a spike due to my "Inferiority Complex Bingo Card" social media debacle where I made the mistake of once again talking to people without a sense of humor or satire. Here is the original from some nobody along with my revision:

It got out of hand quick and I had flashbacks to a few years ago so I stopped engaging immediately (aside from dragging it into this post). Anyway, nobody cares about that. People these days love being miserable and scared so lets get into....Bryan Metro's 30 Days Of Fucking Horror. As always, these are my opinions, so when the question is "The Best", I don't really mean the Best, just my Best. As always these can change based on the mood I'm in when I wake up, the positive conversations I have throughout the day, the concerns brought up to me, the way the Sports Desk is going, and of course money. So basically, I'm qualified to work for the CDC! Let's go!

Day 1- First Horror Movie You Saw: The Shining. Age 8 (?). Pops made me leave during the bathroom scene, but the ax killing of the Nice cook was okay....

Day 2- Last Horror Movie You Saw: Now I'm curious. Do they mean last in terms of date of release or date of viewing? I'm guessing viewing. The Shining haha. Age 39 (?). Roommate made me leave during the bathroom scene...oh you get it.

Day 3- Movie You Love That Nobody Else Does: Also confused. It doesn't day "horror" so I would probably go with Moonlight or Freddy Got Fingered. If we're sticking to horror, probably Blair Witch Project.

Day 4- Goriest Horror Movie: I've always been partial to Peter Jackson's Dead Alive and Werewolf in London's transformation scene and makeup. Apologies to the Evil Dead fan base. But we have to go with The Thing (1982). The things they did (pun intended) with the budget and practical effects are unmatched to this day.

Day 5- Favorite Horror Movie: I know what all 100 of you are thinking, The Shining. But while being my favorite Movie of all time, my favorite Horror Movie would be American Werewolf in London, which is also my favorite romance and 2nd place comedy (Caddyshack).

Day 6- Funniest Horror Movie: I know I've already mentioned Dead Alive and American Werewolf so lets go with Evil Dead 2 here. #workshed. Spoiler alert, the correct answer is down on Day 24.

Day7- Worst Horror Sequel: Ahhh finally something to sink my teeth into. Scream 3 is there. I've seen it 4 times over the course of 2 decades and can't tell you a single thing about it other than the Jay and Silent Bob project placement. Another Weinstein crime. I would have to go with Nightmare on Elm Street 2. Almost killed the entire franchise. Nope, just switched it to American Werewolf in Paris.

Day 8- Best Horror Movie Reboot: I'm guessing they mean remake in hopes of starting a new franchise because none really have worked. In terms of reboot I really think the Fright Night one is really overlooked. Colin Farrell having tons of fun, a cool Chris Sarandon cameo, and I love how they set it in Vegas because it is such a transient city that nobody really notices when someone goes missing. I love that take. Hot take for any future cross country blogger couples with mental and relationship issues.

Day 9- Best Horror Villain: Oh man. Technically it should be Hannibal Lecter but that is more a thriller so it always comes down to the Big 5: Jason, Freddy, Leatherface, Michael Myers, and Donald Trump; all deserving in their own ways. I'm going to eliminate Jason, Freddy, Leatherface, and Trump because there is something likable about each- Jason the sleeping bag kill, the fact he waits until the coeds doff it before he kills them, being a bullied kid. Freddy, well c'mon, is Freddy even the villain in most of them? Leatherface has the best kill out of them all, his first onscreen with the sledge. Also appeals to the trans community, one of my biggest fanbases. Trump for making it extremely difficult to be mean on the internet which is basically how we won a Detroit Music Award. So that leaves Michael Myers by default. Good lord, I just went back and reread that. If 2011 me would read that he would think, what the hell has happened by 2022.

Day 10- Movie You Hate That Everyone Loves: Hellraiser. Never got into it. Hon Mention: Babadook. Sucked but some people saw through the hype. Yeahhh I'm going to go with The Babadook.

Day 11- Worst Horror Ending: The Mist. I know there are a ton of people who love the bleak ending, and as the only living cynical writer writing today, you would think I would as well, but it was rubbish. It was done for just a shock, and the fact that Stephen King said he loved the change in killing off a main character after years of blasting Kubrick for killing off the Nice cook in The Shining just showed the early onset of dementia we see to this day on his Twitter page.

Day 12- Least Favorite Horror Movie: The Witch. I don't even have the energy to do the cute Late '10's spelling of it. It sucked, and no art history dropout that writes for what used to be Aint It Cool News can convince me otherwise. 

Day 13- Movie You Have Not Seen: Ooooh you have my attention. Got it. Candyman. Never saw it, original or remake. To be fair I did see the Virginia Madsen bathtub doff, but that is another list.

Day 14- Best Horror Sequels: Perfect, a loophole. It says "sequels" plural. Let's go. Texas Chainsaw 2 for the gonzo Dennis Hopper/Leathernuts chainsaw fight. Devils Rejects. For making a legit throwback to a 70's road movie with horror undertones. Friday the 13th Part 4. Hits all the notes in the franchise: Doffs, a great cast, a Crispen Glover dance freakout, good kills, great makeup, and more. I'm going to have to go with Nightmare on Elm Street Part 3. It miiiiiight be better than the first. Another great cast, crazy kills, the return of cast members. Yeah. There is your winner. But the pic has to be Hopper.

Day 15- Worst Horror Movie Reboot: Hmmmm. I know many might say the Friday the 13th reboot where they turned Jason into a running Brock Lesnar pot farmer, but that at least had some amazing doffs. So, I'm going with the Nightmare on Elm Street reboot. Nothing redeeming which is a crime because it had Jackie Earle Hayley and my ex Rooney Mara. I was debating which doff to post for the pic. Nahhh just kidding.

Day 16- Worst Horror Acting: I think Bruce Campbell would take it personally if this wasn't him.

Day 17- Cheesiest Horror Movie: Texas Chainsaw Massacre Part 4. This is what happens when you give too many drugs to people making a movie. You could say Part 2 as well. That gives me an idea for another list. This is what happens when you give too many drugs to people making a video. Maybe next year...

Day 18- Worst Horror Movie Plot: Get Out. Clever but too obvious and easy. You are not a trailblazer Jordan Poole. Twilight Zone series did it better. Moving along.

Day 19- Best Horror Soundtrack- John Carpenter. All of them. Halloween, Christine, The Fog, They Live. I bet you were thinking The Thing, but that was Morricone which gets an Hon. Mention. Also Hon. Mention: House of a Thousand Corpses/Devil's Rejects.

Day 20- Most Shocking Horror Movie: I'm going with Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Don't overthink the obvious. Gambling 101.

Day 21- Best 70's Horror Movie: The Exorcist. A very close second because I have the Exorcist is properly rated by maybe a liiiitle overrated, is Carrie. Fuck it. I'm going Carrie. Eat it traditionalists. Moving along.

Day 22- Best 80's Horror Movie: I gave love already to The Shining but is that even an 80's movie? Nightmare Part 1 is definitely up there. Same with The Thing. Return of the Living Dead is pretty amazing, also funny. Okay, 3 way tie- Nightmare 1, Return of the Living Dead, and original Fright Night. The club scene bumps it up.

Day 23- Best 90's Horror Movie: Scream. No contest.

Day 24- Best 00's Horror Movie: Shaun of the Dead. This might be the horror movie I watched the most next to Devil's Rejects which to be honest is more of a thriller which is why I went with the infinitely quotable Shaun. "What do we do tomorrow? Keep drinking!" was my motto from 2004 to. Also the Winchester was the defacto name of my writing refuge/camper after -jr's original name of [REDACTED] was redacted. No no no no. edit edit. Cloverfield. That was the movie I watched the most in the 00's. Yep. Cloverfield. Relegate Shaun back to the funniest. Sorry Evil Dead 2.

Bonus- I guess this meme was made before 2010 so- Best 10's Horror Movie: Cabin in the Woods. Mainly because it includes nods to many of the movies featured up there while still being original as hell. Its too bad Joss Whedon went nuts and totally sexist. It's rough going from being a Hollywood bigwig to submitting his resume for this blog.

Day 25- Best Child Horror Movie: There are quite a few to pick from. Regan was a child right? So Exorcist. The Shining of course. Poltergeist, and I'm not even mentioning the Spielberg audition process. I'm going with the original Child's Play. It even has Child in the title. Cracking up that all the movies I mentioned above are technically better than Child's Play. Pic though has to be Spielberg horrorshow though.

Day 26- Best Horror Genre: Ummm horror? I'm thinking the creator of this ran out of ideas at this point. I'm guessing they meant sub-genre. Anything but that lame 2000's asian horror trend where it was so cookie cutter, hit all the notes/tropes, mad libs gimmick. Though they will get a nod a few days down. It would have to be between Slasher and Haunted House. Slasher because of the kills and tits. Haunted House for the scares. I'm going with Slasher. Are you surprised?

Day 27- Best Holiday Horror Movie: -jr would probably pick Santa's Slay featuring a psychotic Goldberg playing Santa. Oh shit, hey Seth Rogen Goldberg did it first! Anyway Goldberg kills James Caan in the opening scene. Enough to warrant discussion. There's also Krampus which is probably the best recent Christmas horror movie. I'm leaving off Rare Exports which is the Foo Fighters of "Oh this is a great Christmas horror movie" usually said by people thinking they are cool. So it's gotta be Gremlins. Do you hear what I hear? Your mom getting her face slashed with a knife sending scores of parents into a fit because they thought it was just another muppet movie.

Day 28- Best Stephen King Movie: I know what you're thinking, it's The Shining again. Okay, yeah it is, but with that out of the way and if Stephen King voted The Shining is a Stanley Kubrick movie NOT a Stephen King movie so it is disqualified. So it goes to Carrie. By far. The cinematography, score, performances, lighting, Nancy Allen in 1976 full....glory, vintage Travolta. Yep, this is a no brainer.

Day 29- Best True Events Movie: Commando. Just kidding. It's not a list without Commando though. I'm going to go with Texas Chainsaw Massacre. After all they say at the beginning it was based on true event and would they lie to me?

Day 30- Scariest Horror Movie: This one is tough. Based on what age I saw it? I have to give a nod to The Grudge. I was very dismissive of Asian horror up there but when I saw The Grudge I was unfamiliar with the tropes of J Horror and I saw it alone (surprised?) at the theater. I was scared shitless. Every J Horror movie unphased me since then because its just recycled. The Exorcist is up there. Same with Texas Chainsaw. Well, we end where we started. The Shining. Maybe it was because of the age that I saw it, but so many things affected me, some to this day. It's all in the unexplained. Who let him out of the storage room? When I was 10 I finally got to see the bathroom scene and realized it was the perfect metaphor for marriage. The twins. The twins terrified me especially with the almost subliminal jump cuts of them killed. And of course the homosexual costume party dog man and elitist, almost a prelude to Eyes Wide Shut. Try processing that at 8 years old in a traditional Catholic household. And then to cap it off, he killed the Nice cook.

Well that's it waterheads. I hope you had fun with this as much as I did. Plus your first post of 2022!  Venmo me. Cashapp me. I need a fundraiser, a saga. Ahhh whatever. Thanks for reading in our 15th year. Dear god..... Maybe we are doomed.

From the Iceman Commeth,

Dr. Bryan Metro