I don’t go gaga over celebrities.   There’s no band in existence I want to see before I die.   There are very few people that I put on pedestals. Why is this?   What makes me different?   Well, I’m a sociopath for one, so its easy to dismiss all other beings as supporting players in my movie of life.   The other reason is George Lucas.   He taught me that no one is bullet proof.   He was my first hero, and he failed me.   I’m not bitter, it made me stronger.   The solution was to hero worship people whose accomplishments were complete.   People who could no longer ruin their legacy.   So, since there are no living people that I would want to have a beer with, these are the people of the past that I would love to sit down, throw a few back, and discuss the finer points of life with.

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[Is there a better way to celebrate the manger-birth of a superpowered messiah-baby than watching television? Hell no! Join Rendar Frankenstein as he navigates Spaceship OL through the Televised Days of Christmas!]

“Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Didja hear that? Didja?! I think it was Santa Claus giving us an early warning of the impending holiday! Make sure you rush out to the mall so that you can buy a Tamagotchi Angel for Cousin Jeffie and a Furby for Sister Lillian! Hurry! You don’t want to miss the sales! Go!

Actually, don’t.

Instead, why don’t you join the OL crew as we begin our trek through the finest Televised Days of Christmas? We’re going to peer into the vacuum-tubed past of yuletide greetings, the glowing memories of peace on Earth and goodwill towards men. Pour yourself a mugful of frothy eggnog, toss on your favorite ugly sweater, and plant your ass on the closest ottoman.

Tonight is not just any night – it’s The Night of the Meek.

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Twenty-three days into the OCTOBERFEAST and things are getting kooky. Damn kooky. We’ve worshipped Lucifer, munched on cereal, and even hung out with apes. These are strange, horrifying days and they’re only becoming more wonderfully shocking. Sometimes it seems as though OCTOBERFEAST is an alternate dimension of its own.

Anyone who reads comic books or science fiction realizes that our reality is but one of many, a single chapter in book known as the multiverse. There have been countless depictions of realities other than the one to which we are accustomed, and they usually illustrate the idea that some essential quality has been altered. Of course, this makes for great narratives as it encourages the reader/viewer/listener to consider the grand What If?’s in life.

In the late 1950’s, this concept of disregarding standards and questioning society-at-large was the basis behind one of American television’s greatest products — The Twilight Zone. This televised anthology blew minds away every week with unusual stories and narrative twists that defied cookie-cutter formulas. In creator Rod Serling’s words, The Twilight Zone is “A series for the storyteller.”

Serling and his creative team (which sometimes included Ray fuckin’ Bradbury, if you’re still a doubter) seamlessly blended science fiction, horror, westerns, literary classics and comedy into compelling tales of the human condition.   Despite their drastic variances, each episode effectively acts as a parable or revelation.

As these ideas are defiant of those found in most television, The Twilight Zone did itself the favor of including an introductory warning. As seen in the first season,

There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone.

Admittedly, I haven’t seen every episode of The Twilight Zone nor can I claim to have an intense knowledge of the show’s history. But any time that I catch an episode on the Sci-Fi Channel (oh shit, I guess I mean SyFy) I find myself positively captivated. It is a terrific program and I find that even some of the shows I truly love (*cough*LOST*cough*) are doing their best to hit the high-water mark set fifty years ago.

Granted, this may be one of the most popular and referenced episodes of the series — so I can’t necessarily defend myself against arguments of That shit is played out. But with Richard Donner behind the camera and the all-mighty Shatner in front, Nightmare at 20,000 Feet deserves the status of goddamn classic.