Tuesday, March 19, 2019

There's Bad and There's Just Plain God-Awful Bad -- Part Deux

We continued from bad to worse. And we served food, that's what kept folks at the party. Although the next flick, Son of Dracula (1974), ended up being not as bad as I had expected. As one friend of mine said, "It wasn't really bad, just odd."

The tagline was: "The first Rock-and-Roll Dracula movie!" I'd amend that to "The first Rock-and-Roll vampire movie, as Drac got staked in the first five minutes. After all, it's about the son of Drac, not Drac himself.

We have Harry Nilsson as the son, Count Downe (yeah, I know). And, yes, it's that Harry Nilsson, composer of "Me and My Arrow", among so many others. So, there's music in the movie. Lots of good music, in fact, as the cast includes Keith Moon, Peter Frampton, and Ringo Starr, just to name- drop a few.

Poor Count Downe is supposed to be crowned King of the Netherworld, but he doesn't want to do the fanging scene any longer. Nope. He wants to be a regular Joe, get out in the sunlight, and get sunburned, just like the rest of us mere mortals.

Ringo is Merlin, and it's his job to determine the exact time of the coronation, but there are all kinds of planetary and atmospheric disruptions preventing him from seeing the exact moment. He's also tasked, by Count Downe (I just love that name) himself, with helping the Count become mortal. Dr. Van Helsing is called in to help with that procedure, much to the dismay of Baron Frankenstein.

Yes, this is a monsterfest of concert-level proportions, and surprisingly entertaining.

Here's the link to Part Uno of this post: http://writefromthegitgo.blogspot.com/2019/03/theres-bad-and-theres-just-plain-god.html

More later.

Keep writing, friends.

Sunday, March 17, 2019

There's Bad and There's Just Plain God-Awful Bad

I'm writing this post, sitting in my writer's pen downstairs, looking out the window into our backyard. Squirrels and birds playing, and there's sunlight. Sunlight! It's 4:23 in the afternoon, and there's going to be sunlight for a while! Ah, I feel so much better already. The honeysuckle behind our fence shows off a bit o' green for St. Patrick's Day.

Okay, on to the post.

Any of us who are crazy enough (some would say stupid enough) to love bad movies know that there are bad movies and there are really bad movies. Yesterday, several of us saw some of the best of the best of the worst. If you know what I mean. And, as expected, our numbers dwindled as the day progressed.

We learned, once more, some technical terms like solaranite (not sure of the spelling, but that's what it sounds like they're saying -- it's sort of a bomb that explodes the sun's particles, which are made up of atoms. I always thought sunlight was photons, but we discovered yesterday it's composed of atoms. Who knew.), the dictarobatary (a universal translator), and the radiation transfusion unit. Yup, bad movies can teach us so many things.

The first two terms came from Plan 9 from Outer Space, the last one from Son of Dracula.

We started the marathon with Plan 9. Some folks consider this the worst movie of all time, but I, and some of my other badmoviephiles, would disagree. There are so many degrees of bad, and when compared with some truly bad flicks, Plan 9 is at least entertaining. One person's Titanic is another's Ishtar.

Here's yesterday's lineup, in order of appearance:
Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959) -- Hubcaps from space!
Son of Dracula (1974) -- Drac's son plays rock-n-roll!
Mama Dracula (1980) -- Artificial blood for everyone!
The Undertaker and His Pals (1966) -- Stabbed, slabbed, and grilled!
Arnold (1973) -- The corpse groom!

My intention was that we go from least worst to worst worst, but we found that some of the ones we thought would be terrible weren't quite so. My third viewing of Mama Dracula this time around (yes, I'm a wee bit o' a masochist), and it started to make sense and didn't seem as bad as the first time I had watched it. Maybe it's like banging my head against a wall. After a while I kind of like it.

Plan 9. The story so far. Aliens wearing medieval costumes lifted from the props department, piloting flying hubcaps (described as cigar-shaped, but had square corners on the ground), use their electro guns to stimulate the pineal pituitary glands of the dead, revive Vampira, Bela Lugosi, and Tor Johnson, but are defeated by a good right cross from Jeff Trent.

More on the other movies later. I rambled today.

Keep writing, friends.

Thursday, March 14, 2019

How Did Anyone Write Anything Pre-Coffee?

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Well, okay, it was just the worst of times, no best to it. All darkness. Those were the days before coffee. Yeah, sure, there was wine, but you need something after all the wine.

In our class the other day, and I still love this title, "For the Love of Coffee & Donuts", they covered how coffee fell out of favor at times, and then with the next Great Leader somewhere, it'd be back like lightning. In fact, one Imperial Leader had his very own personal Chief Coffee Maker to the Emperor. I want that job. I think that's something I could handle.

But what I was thinking about was how coffee influenced the arts. One of our instructors, Diane, said next week we'll hear a Bach coffee-inspired composition called Schweigt stille, plaudert nichtBWV 211, which translates to "Be still, stop chattering." More commonly known as the Coffee Cantata, I wonder if Johann had himself in mind, at it's a comic opera about coffee addiction. Sounds fun.

During class, I wrote a short poem called, uncreatively enough, "I Love Coffee". Here ya go:

I like coffee
Black and hot
Some drink a cup
I drink a pot

Here's one that's supposedly from J. S. Bach, himself, although there's still some question about its authenticity. However, since the man composed the Coffee Cantata, I can see him writing it:

"Without my morning coffee, I’m just like a dried-up piece of goat."

Now, there's a man with a serious coffee hook.

Finally, from some unknown writer, here's this one:

"May your coffee be strong and your Monday be short."

Keep writing, friends.

Tuesday, March 5, 2019

The Coffee that Launched a Thousand Ships

Or something like that.

Wendy and I are taking a class titled, "For the Love of Coffee & Donuts." Don't you just love that title? They said they added the donuts part as an afterthought.

Y'know, you have to love a class where the homework assignment is to bring your favorite coffee cup to class. I brought a soup bowl. Just want to make sure I soak up as much knowledge as I can. Used to be, I drank coffee to help me do my homework. Things have certainly changed. Now my homework is the coffee. Oh, yes, and coffee.

We learned about some of the legends and myths about coffee's origin. There's the one about the goat herder, Kaldi, who noticed his goats getting cranked up after munching some red berries from a tree. Probably more legend than fact, it's still a fun story. Supposedly, he ate some of the berries, too, and was able to fly to the nearest mountaintop.

One of the regions where coffee started was Ethiopia, it eventually made its way to Yemen. The port of Mocha in Yemen has some great coffee, but it has nothing to do with what they're calling mocha-flavored coffee sold in bottles in the U.S. That's not proper coffee.

Coffee was used in religious practices, too, especially when the sermons went for hours and hours. I know I think of coffee as a spiritual experience.

Superheroes use coffee, too. Green Lantern's power battery is coffee-fueled. He says something like, "In brightest day, in blackest night, I must stay awake, coffee's outtasight." Yeah, I'm sure it's something like that.

I need more coffee.

For other fun facts I might've made up about coffee, see these links:




Keep writing, friends.

Saturday, February 23, 2019

Finally Sitting Down to Write

Yeah, so, I finally got myself to sit down and stay seated for the most part today and get some writing done. Well, there have been the times of jumping up and doing some laundry, heading upstairs for another cup of Joe, or playing with the cats. But, for the most part, I've been writing.

My latest piece, a nostalgic essay about my grandad's old pickup truck, is about my memories and experiences growing up with that truck. Riding in the truck bed, something verboten today; trips to a nearby pond to fish for blue gill and perch; and later, learning to drive it. It was the classic "three-on-the-tree" standard shift. So, I'm wrestling with that, jumping around, fussing with the words, moving them around, adding some, wondering why it sounds great in my head, but my hands won't cooperate and put the words down as I heard them.

But I'm writing. Part of my attempts to get my writing stuff organized, complete the uncompleted, and send more stuff out.

Keep writing, friends.

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Bad Poetry Day

Since we no longer have Bullwinkle's Corner, I'll make my bad poetry contribution.

You've been warned.

Writer’s Lament
Oh, scattered mind, where to start?
With many piles around me
Of paper and electronic junk
I merely want my words freed
Angry Birds and email hooks
All demand I do them
I need my muse to come along
And under the rug shove ‘em

Keep writing, friends.

A Little More on The Undertaker and His Pals

Okay, so, where was I?

This was a mix of Sweeney Todd, Eating Raoul, and Burke and Hare. A word of caution, though. If you're the least bit squeamish, watch with caution. There's blood, but it's on the order of "Okay, Jim, I've got this rubber axe. Let's get the ketchup and make a movie." And there's a quick bit of stock footage of a surgical procedure that's spliced in to add to the gore factor, but all these things are done with a wink at the viewers.

Undertaker is so tongue-in-cheek, I'm surprised they didn't wear a hole in their jaws. Written and directed by T.L.P. Swicegood (Man, I love that name.), he also wrote one episode of the old TV series, The Untouchables.

Warrene Ott played Friday/Thursday. She made several TV appearances in the 1960s, including The Beverly Hillbillies and Gomer Pyle: USMC.

Our detective, Harry Glass, was played by James Westmoreland. He, too, acted in several TV series during the 60s, including The Monroes and Route 66.

There are many things to love/hate about this movie. Yes, it's horror, but it's Three Stooges doing horror. There's even a pie-in-the-face sequence. Here's the tagline: A macabre story of two motorcycle-riding, knife-wielding, shiv-shaving, eye-gouging, arm-twisting, chain-lashing, scalpel-flashing, acid-throwing, gun-shooting, bone-breaking, pathological nuts and their pal the UNDERTAKER...

Supposedly, Undertaker was banned by several theaters, so it was edited, then released.

If you want some sick laughs, watch The Undertaker and His Pals.

Keep writing, friends.