Or should I say B-movies unite, but they’re recent, most from 2016. I like B-movies and movie monsters so I watched several trailers to see what the interest is, why the sudden saturation of werewolves. There’s an intellectual one about a guy who only thinks he’s a werewolf according to the well-educated right up until he transforms… after that there’s nothing but fear and more death. (His attorney sure was surprised) Another has teenage friends on holiday except one has a family secret and eats his friends… eh. Still another has an entire town full of werewolves who were trying to keep a low profile until… nah. Someone decided to interpret Maximum Overdrive with animals becoming possessed-infected, and attacking their peeps… beware your Chihuahua. The kicker was someone being brought back from the dead as a werewolf-slayer of sorts dressed as red riding hood – nope. Don’t let me forget the very first trailer I watched about a stopped train because the engineer thought he’d hit an animal, then when everyone on the train goes outside to see what’s going on and find him getting torn to shreds by the werewolf, no one is smart enough to get back on the train in a hurry, release the parking brake and drive away. Can a train outrun a werewolf? Who knows but it might have been thrilling to see what you go through to uncouple trailing cars to go faster. There were so few they could’ve all climbed into the first one… Lot’s of graphic blood-gore but none of it moved me.
What a buzz-kill. I’ll take Lon Chaney any day or Dark Shadows’ David Selby, the only werewolf who knows how to dress down to his shoes and you could run away from even if he’s got his arms around you. Those guys had class.
Grandma while Michael Jackson’s “Bad” is playing through the MegaMind credits: Would you like to see the video? It’s really cool. I have a lot of Michael Jackson videos, even the one called Thriller – Zombies dance with Michael Jackson.
Grandson: Don’t the zombies eat the people’s brains?
Grandma: Nope… they only dance with Michael Jackson.
Grandson: Is Michael Jackson human?
Every now and again something crops up about the end of the world. Individuals get the inside scoop or an ancient calendar had predicted it long ago now here it is. The Farmers Almanac might be the only thing that hasn’t thrown in on it.
Anyway… Now that I’ve mentioned it and not that I’m worrying about it but … wayback music please …
A friend of mine and I would visit each other daily. My then 4-year old (now 40-something) and her 5-year old would play while she and I shared a bottle of Soave, enjoying the day talking about whatever popped to mind and life in general. One day though we learned it was going to end thanks to her fiancée’s parents getting the inside scoop. No, they didn’t walk up and down streets wearing placards shouting warnings, it was just they were so certain, so positive, so so so just knew it, they and many of their friends began selling all their stuff and planned to gather at a designated area – the designated area because God said – to meet the end together. As this day, place and hour approached, and that sounding biblical, his parents kept calling warning him to be prepared, and of course wanted him to be with them when it happened. I was there when some of those calls took place, and we’d sit afterward shaking our heads. He’d tried to talk them down just in case but they didn’t see it like that. With a child’s innocence, and it was childlike excitement for them, they knew they’d stumbled onto something. We knew no one really knows so it could go in either direction making chances of the world ending 50/50.
The extremity of it all was mind-boggling, really.
As we were leaving on what had been slated as the last day, I asked my friend if she thought the world might really end. Reflecting for less than a second she said, “There’s no sense worrying if it is.” “True, that’s true. I’ll see you tomorrow unless the world ends but maybe we’ll wind up somewhere soave flows freely and the kids can play as long as they want.”
Did it happen?
I awoke the next morning to a gorgeous Indian-Summer day. As I stood looking down at my son sleeping so peacefully my first thought was ‘it didn’t end’. As we began our walk I noticed the only thing resembling an apocalypse was the night winds had blown more brilliant fall leaves to the ground completely covering the roads. My son and I kicked them up making our own private path. My friend’s front door was open welcoming the unseasonably warm; she already had the Soave ready. “Well, the world didn’t end.” “No, it didn’t”, but I had to know. “What about Brent’s folks? Did they get rid of everything?”
“Dig if you will a picture, of you and I engaged in a kiss. The sweat of your body covers me…” Never’ve been a big fan of Prince, but that song will always bring a smile. Why? You’ll never be old enough to know. Can’t say I shouldn’t have because I did. I’d wondered if it could happen to me, if I could have a fling and something to smile about should we pass each other and say good morning. I needed it. What followed was disastrous but this was before all that. I was satisfied to let it go. He wouldn’t. Why do men have to possess, own, conquer? Fool! Not me, I actually had it together. That’s ok, though it’s not ok, but what I mean is when I hear that song I can still feel that morning, standing on the back porch thinking, feeling the sweat of my body covering him, watching the cold and mist rising off the ground that refreshed, the heightened sense of awareness, of sight, the clarity of sound each time I played it feeling it inside me. Did he tell me to stop? I don’t think I cared. He might have made a comment but it fell away. I was new and done with it.
Moved myself to an inner room though I was upstairs. Sobering experience? Well, I’ve been through them before, in fact in my medical days I drove in them and when I first began teaching I walked during them with hail pelting down so hard it stung my legs. We haven’t had extreme tornado issues in a while. Last night was a doozy! The wind was strong enough to wake me and then sirens went off, so much for that. I walked through the apartment listening until they stopped then went into a different bedroom and settled, took the video I was dozing through off pause and conked back out. A thunderstorm followed so I walked through again and looked out a kitchen window. Sheets of hail and rain were coming down, everything was blowing, and I wondered what it was going to look like in the daylight.
That remains to be seen.
… marveling at man’s insistence at controlling a prehistoric animal. Four movies’ worth and he doesn’t learn similar to CEOs who just know their brand of embezzling is the winner and they won’t wind up in prison right up until s/he winds up in prison – remember when that was trending, from death, destruction, getting eaten, no surprise our taxes keep going up from all the damage, to someone training them through respecting them, possibly the key to making friends with raptors in particular getting to ride a dirt bike among them managing not to get eaten causing you to wonder is this finally the end? Can we stop making these movies now? The other cause for wonder is why the pterodactyl chills in a confined area instead of multiplying all over the earth destroying mankind. Out of everyone, they’re the ones who can leave the island.
But I love them, these movies, along with watching those educated Great Whites that terrorize a family even though each time the perpetrator – Great White in question – is blown to bits. Must be a family of sharks avenging the death of the last one lost, like when a Slayer dies another girl awakens as the Slayer. It’s her turn now. Vampires beware.
Who can resist franchise without end? Amen.