[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]

Edgar Allan Poe – writer extraordinaire or drug-addled lunatic?

Both.

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[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]

Is eating a healthy breakfast a wise decision? Probably.

Is eating a bowl of monster-themed sugar-clusters a wise decision? Definitely.

The official breakfast of this year’s OCTOBERFEAST is the wonderfully horrific Frankenberry. Originally released with the infamous Count Chocula, this cereal has plastered saccharine smiles onto children’s faces for nearly forty years. The taste alone is worth raving about; strawberry-flavored corn crisps carry marshmallows directly into your tum-tum. Through the standard morning-meal process, any milk used is transmuted from that yucky liquid doctors and parents want you to drink into a lite-milkshake.

Perhaps more important than the gustatory experience is the fact that Frankenberry is a goddamn abomination. That’s right, America, we’re feeding our children a food with Frankenstein’s monster as the mascot. You realize that Frankenstein’s monster symbolizes aspiration corrupted, the dream that we pursue so zealously that we lose sight of how grotesque it’s become, right? We are, in essence, consuming our own wretched failures! And they’re delicious!

In the course of two days I have polished off an entire box of Frankenberry. I just couldn’t stop myself from going back for more. I felt obsessed, as though by eating the cereal I could be transformed into an athlete of superhuman capabilities. Yes, maybe I will try out for the Hanshin Tigers…

Don’t judge me, it’s the OCTOBERFEAST! My only concern is that the holiday-treat might play some tricks on my digestive track.

[OCTOBERFEAST is the greatest celebration of the year, a revelry dedicated to pop-culture’s most nutritious Halloween detritus. Plastic screams and artificial sweeteners have never been more bountiful. In the old country, villagers refer to the extended party as Satan’s Snacktime]

It’s that time of year again. The undead are becoming restless, preparing for the annual night of domination. The ghouls are tearing off their flesh-masks, skulking about retirement home windows in the hopes of inducing heart attacks. Perverts are slipping roofies into the punchbowls, their lunatic cousins hiding razor blades in apples. And soccer moms are stocking up on candy.

It’s wonderful.

Clearly, there are a number of ways to get into the holiday spirit. Anyone who doubts this need only view the video for Thunder Kiss `65.

Younger readers may not know this, but before Rob Zombie was a kooky director, he was the kooky front man for White Zombie. My feeble descriptive skills tell me that White Zombie was a horror-oriented metal band that embodied the sloppy spirit of early `90s drug binges. But what do I know?

Anyways, the video for Thunder Kiss `65 is a perfect overture for OCTOBERFEAST. With half of the footage in black in white, the video summons the spectres and hauntings that blessed the Universal lot. A luchador drives a muscle car across a barren wasteland, only stopping to drink with Frankenstein’s monster and the grim reaper. Logically, leggy Go-Go dancers shake their stuff and psychedelic filters wash over the band. It’s a tantalizing cross-section of the different types of mayhem found at Samhain.

Trust me, you want to watch this.

Halloween is fucking done! Now what? Eh! We kill time until we eat ourselves fucking sick. And then we’re like “Oh yeah, and we’re thankful and shit. For commercialism and reality television and killing the Native Americans with ratty towels and shit.”

Monday Morning Commute. Every Monday I’m going to detail the various things I’m either currently or will be watching, reading, playing, and listening to in the next seven days. It’s Monday. You’ve got a long week of school, work, or compulsive masturbation to get through. Tell me the arts that you’re indulging in, to stave off suicide. Keep Reading »

So here it is, the Halloween Episode of OCTOBERFEAST. Rather than diving right into the concluding entry, I just want to wish everyone a Happy Halloween. For real — this holiday is such a blast and I really feel bad for anyone who can’t enjoy it. I just spent the afternoon at the Bruins/Oilers game with Caffeine Powered & our cousin, and I saw children and adults alike dressed in various costumes. Behind a Skrull mask, I realized that it really takes a true asshole to be against a day dedicated to dressing up, eating candy, and celebrating. While watching the Bruins emerge victorious was enjoyable, the real entertainment came from spotting Hulk Hogan, Darth Vader, the Super Mario Brothers and other heroes  in the crowd.

The occult, theatrics, and potentially subversive messages have weaved their way into the fabric of rock & roll. Heavy music seems to be one of the few venues in which it is not only accepted but expected that Satan is embraced in one form or another. Unfortunately, most of the well-known bearers of rock’s horror-torch are more style than substance.

KISS? Don’t even get me started on these guys. Any time that someone suggests that they even qualify as heavy metal, I get a stomach cramp and have to use the restroom. Knights In Satan’s Service? Heaven’s on Fire? Bah! Don’t make me puke. This guys are nothing more than merchandisers who use shitty music to push the product.

Alice Cooper? Marilyn Manson? Sorry, but since I’m not thirteen years old I’m not falling for your tricks. Yes, Alice, I know that singing about school being out forever is a great way to start summer vacation. But as far as being a dark shepherd of the underworld…something tells me that  he lacks credibility. And as far as Cooper’s successor/rival, Marilyn Manson — I just don’t buy it.

Amidst a slew of half-baked, barely worthwhile horror-themed rockers stands one man and his music. Yes, he certainly dabbles in supernatural themes such as witchcraft, ghosts, Satan, hauntings, religious corruption, madness, and the like. But this performer has always surrounded himself with excellent personnel, thereby backing up his ghoulish persona with legitimately rocking tunes. Really, if you consider yourself a fan of heavy metal you should probably own at least one of his records.

No, I’m not talking about Ozzy — the man of the hour is the one and only KING DIAMOND.

King Diamond is a goddamn force of nature. Shrouded by spooky black & white makeup, Diamond has commanded the stage for both his own eponymous band and its predecessor, Mercyful Fate. With these outfits, King Diamond takes the listener through twisting tales of depravity and terror, often requiring an entire album to do so. Take, for instance, King Diamond’s The Eye, which tells an interwoven tale of witch-hunts and sexual assault committed by Church officials. Thematically, there is no question that King Diamond is a champion of OCTOBERFEAST.

More importantly, though, is King Diamond’s vocal proficiency. The King assumes various roles throughout his songs, sometimes speaking as a creepy grandma, an executioner, a priest, or even a child. Although a master of this sort of performance-vocal, King Diamond also belts out a falsetto wail of which banshees can only dream. King Diamond has set a standard of screeching to metal that modern bands can only match with extensive assistance from Pro-Tools.

King Diamond’s influence on the world of heavy metal is undeniable. Anyone that believes King Diamond to be unappreciated within the metal world just needs to remember the showcase he was  given on 2005’s Roadrunner United. Injecting technicality into good songwriting and combining it with a thick slice of macabre, King Diamond has created an amazing body of work. I strongly suggest that you check out Abigail, “Them” and The Eye.

To rock out — watch the first video, a live rendition of the title track Abigail.

To be creeped out — watch the second video, King Diamond explaining a portion of The Puppet Master.

Through all of its events, OCTOBERFEAST has been a commemoration of not only pop culture’s most terrifying and vile aspects, but the genuine joy derived from them as well. Just as Young Frankenstein illustrates, the combination of horror and comedy creates a synergy only rivaled by peanut butter and chocolate. But as much as I love Mel Brooks’ monster-movie homage, it is essentially a comedy that happens to use horror characters. In  truth, there exists a more even balance of horror/comedy/adventure.

Perhaps the best example of this cinematic joint-effort is Army of Darkness. Sam Raimi’s 1992 movie is the third (and best) part of the Evil Dead Trilogy. This concluding chapter picks up right where Evil Dead 2 left off — Ash, a man who has battled the possessed corpses of former friend on two occasions, has been transported to Medieval England. In order to return from the year 1300 CE, Ash has to retrieve the Necronomicon (the book of the dead featured in both predecessors). Of course, this means getting involved with warring bands of knights and battling the undead.

While this may sound like a decent flick in and of itself, the beauty of Army of Darkness is found in the protagonist Ash Williams. Unlike most heroes, Ash is kind of an asshole; he runs his mouth, tells people off, and is always trying to help himself out. Take, for example, his response to the once-possessed Sheila’s attempt to apologize for her former actions: “First you wanna kill me, now you wanna kiss me. Blow.” Such one-liners, delivered by the amazing Bruce Campbell, are nothing short of genius.

Shit. Forgive me if I’m backpedaling here, but I feel like I need to pause for clarification. Ash is great not only because he’s a charming douchebag, but because he pushes the limits of ridiculous. Just contemplate this — when first appearing in Army of Darkness, Ash has a chainsaw attached to his hand. Also, he is a big fan of his shotgun, to which he lovingly refers as a boomstick. Observe the following:

But Ash isn’t the only redeeming quality of the movie. Army of Darkness succeeds in its willingness not to take itself too seriously. Sure, there are monsters and dead bodies and all that creepy stuff. But everything in the movie is treated with a slapstick sensibility; as a result, the entertainment value is doubled, as every scary monster evokes waves of hearty laughter that is usually only heard during Three Stooges episodes. The cheesy, campy nature of Army of Darkness puts it a step above others, showcasing the fact that the movie is first and foremost intended to entertain.

I’m fairly certain that I haven’t done Army of Darkness justice. But if you believe in the power of OCTOBERFEAST, you can believe in this movie. I mean, seriously, there are lines like Yo, she-bitch! Let’s Go! & Hail to the king, baby.

Tonight is Halloween Eve — I plan on watching Army of Darkness. You should too.

In the last few decades, the scientific community has come to a general consensus regarding OCTOBERFEAST: Goth-kids love Halloween. While their dark wardrobes, crummy poems, and pasty complexions are usually frowned upon, Hallow’s Eve provides Goth-kids a rare chance to flaunt their woe-is-me approach to existence. I guess this is a good societal release valve, providing a safe outlet so that real mistakes are not made.

So sure, we concede a bit of a loss during OCTOBERFEAST. We allow each teen inaccurately diagnosed with depression to wear a different Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie every day. We put up with thirty-one days of ghetto-blasters blaring Boys Don’t Cry and overzealous students begging us to attend the Drama Club’s performance of whatever. And for an entire month, we understand that staying out of Hot Topic is a decision made to ensure physical safety.

But all these concessions are made so that the inmates don’t overtake the asylum that is OCTOBERFEAST. In reality, there is some pretty cool Gothic-inspired shit in the world. In addition to his rampant alcohol and drug abuse, Edgar Allen Poe should be commended for his body of work. Despite writing in the Gothic style, Poe gave us fucking classics like The Fall of the House of Usher, The Tell-Tale Heart and The Raven. So by giving the weirdos a month-long recess, they can be marginalized the rest of the year; and as result, they don’t completely taint the world of Gothic entertainment.

While Poe is one worthy representative of the American Gothic, he is trumped by a Brooklyn-based powerhouse. This entity has demonstrated that you can be into glum shit without being a totally despondent a-hole. The band at hand manages to sing about girlfriends’ girlfriends, asking a girl to be a druidess, and being set on fire in a strangely energetic and uplifting manner.

In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m referring to Type O Negative.

Type O Negative’s special brand of metal distinguishes itself by incorporating morbid lyrics into doom-and-gloom music. For instance, the creepy keyboards sound more like an old-school organ played in a cathedral where priests trains for exorcisms. On top of these are guitars that vary between ambient, groovin’, chuggy, or even thrashy. But perhaps most identifiable are Peter Steele’s low, brooding vocals.

Take all of the above attributes and use them to serenade a Goth girl. The result?

Black No. 1 (Little Miss Scare-All)

This is one of Type O Negative’s most well-known tunes, and with good reason. Musically, the eleven-minute track oscillates between straight-ahead verses, poppy sing-a-long choruses, hard hitting sections of hate, and truly beautiful bridges. Oh, and they also manage to sneak in the theme to The Addams Family.

Most appropriate for the OCTOBERFEAST, however, are Steele’s lyrics. At times, Black No. 1 seems to be a real love fest for freaky-ass, pale girls. And then, the song turns on a dime with declarations that loving the woman in question “Was like loving the dead/ Was like fucking the dead.” Surely, not what I’m planning to drunkenly croon at my wedding but pretty fucking awesome.

For a better idea of the song’s theme, check out this excerpt:

I went looking for trouble
And boy
I found her…

She’s in love with herself.
She likes the dark
On her milk white neck.
The Devil’s mark.

It’s all Hallows Eve.
The moon is full.
Will she trick or treat?
I bet she will.

She will.

Happy Halloween.

She’s got a date at midnight
With Nosferatu.
Oh baby, Lily Munster.
Ain’t got nothing on you.

Well when I called her evil
She just laughed.
And cast that spell on me.
Boo Bitch Craft.

Yeah you wanna go out
’cause it’s raining and blowing.
You can’t go out
’cause your roots are showing.

Dye ’em black.

Fuck it, I’m making a huge decision: consider Black No. 1 the official theme of OCTOBERFEAST. So in the next few days, take every opportunity to blast this tune as loud as possible while stuffing candy corn into your face.

Albeit an abridged version, check out the music video for Black No. 1:

OCTOBERFEAST is the celebration of that which makes the tenth month of the year superior. Of the last twenty-seven entries, I’d like to think that  some have been outside of the normal considerations. However, as with any tradition, there are certain staples that become so ingrained as to become fully synonymous with their host-event. Unfortunately, this often leads these staples to become taken for granted and underappreciated.

To thwart an egregious  oversight, I present Jack O’Lanterns.

Yes, the doorstop sentry of every house on the block that celebrates Halloween — the Jack O’Lantern. In truth, the very concept of this illuminative device is fucking insane. Just think about its construction:

1)           First, take an orange gourd.

2)           Cut off the top and pull out its guts.

3)           On one side, carve out a freaky-ass face.

4)           Put a candle inside, light that shit up and put the top back on.

If you didn’t know about Halloween and someone gave you the above instructions, you’d think about reporting terrorist activity. But as a part of the OCTOBERFEAST, Jack O’Lanterns are rad.

I mean, seriously — even before having their bodies mutilated, pumpkins kick ass. They provide another porch decoration for the suburbanites of quiet desperation who are just trying to outdo their neighbors. Pumpkins, of course, also bring us pumpkin-pie. The pie can always be washed down with a cold pumpkin-brew. And who doesn’t love munching on pumpkin seeds after they’re roasted and salted to hell? The answer — Nazis.

But seeing a pumpkin mature into a Jack O’Lantern? It is a wonderful feeling. I don’t have children, but I can’t imagine that hearing a baby’s first word is cooler than transforming a pumpkin into this. Turning a vegetable into a hilarious or creepy torch is a goddamn talent.

I’d like to think that it isn’t even necessary to point out the importance of the Jack O’Lantern to Halloween. But something tells me that there will be plenty of dingbats who walk right past the orange bowls of fire. Go out, grab a pumpkin, and turn it into something sick.

In case you don’t know how, watch this tutorial:

With only a few days left in the OCTOBERFEAST, I’m sure that there is some speculation underfoot. After all, there are certainly fewer available spots than there are candidates with which to fill them. It’s an unfortunate fact, but not every kooky-ass, ghoulish autumn activity/movie/song/memory makes the cut, so don’t throw a hissy fit when your favorite is excluded. Maybe next year will prove successful.

I’ve had some guesses thrown my way as to what the main course of the OCTOBERFEAST will be. I could tell you, but I value the few hits OL gets every day; you’re just going to have to keep on reading. However, I will tell you what it is not: Halloween.

Don’t get me wrong, the movie Halloween is great and everything. Before  selling doo-doo yogurt, Jamie Lee Curtis was famous because of Halloween, which is saying something. I guess. Or is it? Hey, remember True Lies? Yeah, who could forget?

Anyways, Halloween is not included in the OCTOBERFEAST. Maybe it’s too obvious. Maybe I’m just surly. Or maybe it’s because the film’s antagonist is no longer the most horrifying being with the name Michael Myers.

However, what this twenty-seventh day of FEAST’ing does include is the theme from Halloween…as performed by Secret Chiefs 3.

Earlier this year, I saw Secret Chiefs 3 open up for Les Claypool. I had never heard of the band, but was quite impressed. Not only were they super tight, energetic, and generally good sounding, but they also performed in druid-robes. It was sick.

Turning to the hippie rocking out to my left, I asked about the band. He informed me of their name and the fact that they were formed by Trey Spruance. For those of you unfamiliar with Spruance, he was the guitarist for Mr. Bungle and played on Faith No More’s King for a Day…Fool for a Lifetime. So if you like that stuff, maybe you’ll like Secret Chiefs 3. Honestly, I haven’t checked out the band’s albums so I can’t really say.

But about halfway through the set, Secret Chiefs 3 busted into the only tune of theirs I’d recognize: the familiar theme from Halloween. I find the original version of the song terribly creepy — listen to those notes in the dark and you’re bound to look over your shoulder. While Secret Chief 3’s rendition isn’t necessarily as haunting, I think it brings an electricity and liveliness distinguishable from the original.

Check out the video below. The actual footage is pretty bogus, but listening to the audio while you do something else will be worthwhile.

In the words of Vigo the Carpathian, “Now is the season of evil.” Yeah Vigo, that is a pretty good way to sum up the OCTOBERFEAST.   But that doesn’t mean we can’t take the opportunity to laugh our asses off — it just has to be done with a *spooky* theme. If only there were a classic comedy that made use of some of horror’s most recognizable characters…

Oh shit. If I didn’t include this movie, Mrs. Krueger would give me a goddamn dragon uppercut. She’s never even played Street Fighter but last time she did it she knocked out an incisor. True story.

OCTOBERFEAST has reserved a more than well-deserved spot for Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein. Written by Gene Wilder (who also plays the lead), the feature chronicles the exploits of the grandson of the infamous Dr. Frankenstein. The descendent initially wants nothing to do with his ancestor’s legacy, distancing himself at every opportunity and making sure to pronounce his surname [Fronk-en-steen]. However, there is a matter to settle with his family’s estate, and he has to  travel to the scene of his grandfather’s crime!

Once in Transylvania, the Young Frankenstein comes across a number of characters that threaten to steal the film from him. There’s Inga, the flirtatious lab assistant played by Teri Garr who is so good looking in this movie that it really depresses me to think of how she looks now. Frau Blucher is the beyond-homely, elderly servant of the Frankenstein estate whose very name evokes the naying of horses throughout the entire movie. And then there’s Igor, the hunchbacked servant played by the kooky-eyed Marty Feldman.

While all the characters in Young Frankenstein are brilliant, there is a terrific wit emitting from Igor that just elevates him to a higher plateau. Just watch how he handles one of his duties as servant:

I’m not the type of guy who worships at the altar of the supposed classics. If anything, I miss out on a lot of cool shit because I respond to seemingly unanimous praise with an overabundance of skepticism. But Young Frankenstein deserves the acclaim. Every scene delivers and no member of the ensemble cast is wasted. Gene Hackman’s brief appearance as a lonely hermit supports this claim:

Young Frankenstein is not only a great Halloween movie, but a great comedy as well. If you’ve enjoyed Mel Brooks’ other films, try this one on for size. And if you don’t like Mel Brooks…well, then you’re probably an asshole.