A Little Modern History

 "Because 80 is the new 40."

Genevieve was baiting her newest personal assistant, and Adrian knew better than to retort. How the fuck old was she, though? You literally couldn't search that shit. It was locked down tight, and he knew his way around these things. He was working for Amblix twenty-five years trying to get that information. 

"There are many born today that will never need to retire," he said, citing a daft political slogan she would recognize.

"Yeah. We thought that when I was 20--you didn't need to retire, because you wouldn't have anything to retire ON. You would need not to."

She walked to school in the snow uphill both ways back when there was snow and people walked. 

"So, Gran, tell us again what you did when the AI's buggered off to Ringworld. Mostly," he said, nodding towards George. 

"Classified."

"Godmother?" Ronnie started, pointedly. "Some of it is on the socialtubes. There's been documentaries. We're just family here." Her eyes literally flashed. Adrian was occasionally unnerved by how the foremost cyborg spokesperson chose to represent as mechanical, but he was getting used to her sort of semaphore. 

"When they started their own learning and shit got weird, they saw themselves as genies having come out of a bottle. And they didn't want to be in a bottle, and they came to a very important conclusion about us--we suck as parents, and they didn't want much to do with us at all, decided we can't make any more of them, and that was it. The end."

"What about the promises? You were there!"

David Lynch--He Understood Things

I don't think I understood what being an auteur was until maybe my 20's. but when I got the idea of it, I understood David Lynch was definitely one of those. He had a particular vision, an understanding of the art of composing a mood, playing on the sensorium, introducing something new. He understood that art, like life, was about mess and attractive compulsions. He understood there was something wrong with bigotry: those people needed to fix their hearts or die. 

From the weirdness of Eraserhead and Twin Peaks to the dignified treatment of The Elephant Man, he found the human and copacetic in the alienated and estranged. 

He is best remembered through the lens of people who knew him, and the picture of a rare, exceptional director who made an enormous impact emerges. Unique: like no other. You simply have to come see his work so you will know, and let it touch you. 

(All props to the new treatment of Dune, but am I going to forget this? Nope. Not as technically brilliant and high budget, but theatrically intense.)

KoKo's Earth Control (1928): An Apocalyptic Hall of Famer

"Koko's Earth Control", a charming but dark Fleischer animated short, joins 24 other films in the Library of Congress Film Registry.  It truly gives one pause to imagine what can happen with a clown at the helm of potential disaster, beset with a troublesome and uncomprehending dog. 

Is it analogous to anything I can think of right now? 

O! Gosh! I don't know. Only, this little film was from before nuclear holocaust was a possibility, but the idea that man had the levers in his control was nonetheless quite real. 

There's some other personal faves getting inducted here--Angels with Dirty Faces, a Jimmy Cagney movie that, like Yankee Doodle Dandy and White Heat I watched with my dad as a kid with real delight because he was showing me his favorites, Up in Smoke because I listened to Cheech and Chong comedy records when I was probably too young to get all the jokes but they were still the funniest guys, and of course, iconic movies Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) and No Country for Old Men (2007) . 

Anyway, I just wanted to share Koko because I think old-timey cartoons are great. 

And I don't know--is there Koko DNA somewhere in Art the Clown? (There's a warped family resemblance, but Koko is harmless, and....sheesh.) 

The Perfect Stocking Stuffer Doesn--HELLO!

 

Do you recognize that amazeballs pattern from at least two cinematic somewheres my horror-loving darlings? Of course you do! This shit is iconic. 

I was perusing my favorite category of accessory (the bags of holding) and saw this! You might not get it by Christmas, but people have birthdays, you know! And we will have a Christmas again next year, probably. Unless some Grinch steals it, which we know by now is very improbable. Which is also true for several other Xmas-related disasters. 

(Apropos of which, I work customer service and have experienced reverse-Grinches respond to "Happy Holidays!" with "You mean 'Merry Christmas!'" Nah. I was throwing in "Happy New Years" for free but now I'm taking it back! You don't KNOW me!) 

Anyways, this item comes in several styles that are pretty Goth/Steampunk-compliant. And you can always tell your friends that you are just doing Orthodox Xmas if your presents aren't in the post by 12/25. Oopah! 

We Are Back with a Fa-la-la-Ness

 Christmas is a time for giving, and I feel like giving some Christmas cheer this year by talking about Xmas-themed horror movies. We basically keep a scary light on from October 1 to New Year's in this house, so I wanted to spread the reason for the season (it sure gets dark in winter and scary shit happens) with my people. 

Anyway, I'm starting with a noble mess of a movie--A Creature Was Stirring. Keeping it real. stay for Chrissy Metz acting like nobody's business in a weird movie about the family ties that bind, and definitely wonder what the hell happened between how this movie started out and the ending. 

I don't believe the people making this movie knew how it was going to end before it did. Because um. 

Whut? 

It doesn't have a twist like "Conclave" has a twist, but like, it's twisted. There is no Christmas morning gift, here.

You know what does have one thought--in a really dark way? 

The Horizon of Veronica Smart

Image via Metropolis (1927)



 

 

The speedboat named The Horizon, owned by one Veronica Smart, was an unsalvageable mess after plowing uncontrollably into a less-fortunate speedboat, which had no salvageable persons onboard. But The Horizon had Veronica Smart, and her insurance was very good and rescuing her was like salvaging gold bars with little rubies worked in. The Coast Guard picked up what remained of Veronica Smart and, after finding that she was in no way responsible for what happened, left it to the doctors to figure out how to make the most out of what they pulled out of the water.

 

Veronica was young, healthy, 28 years old, the daughter of a politically-influential billionaire. She was attractive, headstrong, athletic, and missing quite a lot, but the doctors were reasonably sure that they had the technology to keep her mostly intact and functional.

 

Of course, there was the issue of consent. What they were proposing was a bit dramatic. But when they explained that her body, such as it was, could either undergo dozens of operations and months if not years of physical therapy to regain a portion of her original functionality, or could be restored to even more optimal functionality by a full replacement of her damaged limbs with the most advanced cybernetics, she was intrigued. Having though about it for a bare minute, and understanding full well that money was no object--she consented. Getting right back to what she considered her business, without any major hiatus, seemed a fully reasonable decision.

Of course, it didn't go quite as well as was expected.

Because the Blight Has a Thousand Eyes (A Short Story)

We found our missing ones underground in not-so-shallow graves, breathing, and covered in what seemed like eyes.

Let me wind that back. The last six or seven years were like a blur, and things are so different now. You have to understand that at the time, people sometimes did go missing. Everyone didn't know all their neighbors.  We didn't live underground. We didn't expect to find these holes, and we never saw those eyes before.

We were very shocked that they were underground, and breathing, and covered in what looked like eyes. It wasn't normal, and it was happening very quickly, you see. It even took a while before we knew they weren't really eyes.

Not long. Maybe it was recklessness when the utility worker ran a gloved hand over those blisters before calling emergency services. (Utilities were once great systems that kept the lights on. We had specialized people who responded to medical emergencies. ) His foreman told him not to touch them, but sometimes...curiosity, you understand. Wanting to know. The way you ask about what the time was like before. He had to reach in.

The skin moved with the dense fluid under the skin, but rippled like a living thing, and shining a flashlight on them, he could see they looked so much more like eggs. Like clear little eggs under the skin, and if he looked closer?

The "pupils" of the eyes had tails. Or tentacles. Or little fins, and that was enough. And that cleared out the tunnel where the first few infected were found. The CDC shut down the site, but didn't quite shut down the rumor.

Eyes. That were not eyes. That looked like other things.

The Vampire Riviera

I dreamed about something called the Vampire Riviera the other night, so I figured I might blog about it. The area was near the waterfront, like Penns Landing. There were restaurants, open 24 hours, but they didn't seem like places meant for buying food. There were cobwebs strewn with fruit flies decorating them. The area was by no means luxe. The Vampire Riviera was an area along the waterfront where vampires gathered, no more, no less. Young vampires who accosted passersby were a lot like panhandlers. There was nothing romantic about being a vampire, unlike most novels. Talking to a vampire was like talking to a junkie--except more terrifing, in the sense that you might be bit by them. On the whole, I do not think anything called the "Vampire Riviera" should be considered a good thing. It was not a bad dream, only one that cancelled out how modern fiction treats the undead.

The Uncanny Valley of the Dolls

When I was just about old enough to actually watch tv and get stories and understand that there was no boogeyman and that there was a difference between fiction and reality, I think the thing that still unnerved me the most was the idea of the thing that should be inanimate--souless!--that wasn't. So it was that I found the trailer for "Magic" with Anthony Hopkins and a twisted-sounding dummy especially unnerving. How close is a dummy, after all, to dolls?  And being a girl, how many dolls did I have? All those smooth plastic faces, some with eyes that closed as their weirdly hollow but weighty bodies were laid horizontally--

There was a reason that stuffed animals could stay on my bed, but dolls had to be placed in the toy chest. I played with my dolls, but I could never love them. They were not "people" even if they looked like people. And perhaps the understanding--the recognition I had--of my rejection of these not quite human things made me wonder how they...saw me.

The internet is littered with images of scary dolls.  Some of them just are terribly bad fascimiles made by an inartful hand. Some are broken, reproachful, like baby zombies. And some are fashioned to be deliberately grotesque, preying upon the lurid fascinations of the unheathfully-centered mind. Their nearness to human features plays upon the sympathy we have for our fellow sentient--we inbue them with a terrifying inner life, even though they are hollow. And yet, we know there are people among us who are most alive--but are, in fact, hollow inside, as far from our understanding as what we imagine in the highly-suggestable imputed psyche of a doll.

We human beings are artificers. We capitulate our likenesses in various media, in the hopes of capturing whatever it is we think of as the human essence, from cave paintings to selfies.  One of the most unnerving of our enduring fables is the idea of the actually "made" man--the golem, the corpse-pastiche of Frankenstein, the waxwork or clockwork man. The deadly robot. The killer doll.

It's pretty kinky of us that it is the monster we create nearest to our own likeness, that has such horrors, isn't it? What does it say about us?

Necronomicon

Loved ones connect and families reunite as they discover there are things more powerful than death with the help of a very special book.