Fall From Grace

There's a new feature length documentary about the Phelps clan--that infamous stringy-haired-god-hates-fags-westboro-baptist-church from my hometown, Topeka Kansas. I haven't seen it yet, but it looks pretty good. It's available for instant viewing at Netflix.

dance me to your beauty with a burning violin

One of the best videos ever.

The New Gaze

I've noticed some things recently. One has to do with female narration on commercials. I have never been so disturbed. It's a certain cadence...this kind of deep-toned quirkiness. It's very subtle, and ubiquitous within commercials featuring tampons, toothpaste, food, cleaning products, crappy Payless shoes, etc. I'm thinking of buying that $350 time machine that guy was hawking on Coast to Coast. I'd like to be in almost any decade but this one. Dear culture, I'm filled. I will have to find a perfect example of this disturbing narrative tone. I have yet to understand its meaning. It might have somethign to do with the celebration of stupidity, individuality and imperfection that I want to barf all over.

So anyway--this bugs the crap out of me too. This androgynous emo kid gaze. I don't mean to pick on this particular kid, but this happened to be on the front page of flickr and I clicked on it because I haven't seen such a grand example of posturing since I had to stop looking at MySpace or check myself into a sanitarium. Sorry kid, it's not you, really. It's the self-induced pose. It's always the same. Smooth long bangs over one eyelinered eye (what's the message of identity? I'm only half here?)--always an upward gaze, implying smallness and weakness, very childlike. Many times, the camera even seems to be held up over the head with arms outstretched as far as possible, to imply the subject is a toddler. Overall very fetishized and with an almost anime look. Oftentimes, there is one word in the picture, drawn on (I suppose) in photoshop, or drawn directly on the arm/hand, with marker etc. I'm disturbed by it--irrational perhaps.

The Trip, Sal Giammona

For a single semester, I was a film major at the U. We got to rent free VHS from the small but nicely-and-obscurely-stocked little gated movie stall. Somewhere, there's a woman named Francine-a woman who loaded the film for the 'pets or meat' scene in Michael Moore's Roger & Me--a woman who served me homemade peach moonshine 16 years ago in her messy apartment--the same apartment building in fact, that last week, a sex offender shot and killed himself in a police standoff--somewhere this woman Francine probably still has all her student films, one of which I star in, I am a character named Jade, and I sit in this little gated movie thing and swig Nyquil.

I am a terrible actress; in fact, I am no actress at all--as everyone, especially this very frustrated film student golden child who was directing Francine's graduate student film, named 'Basil' found out that night with the Nyquil. I had no idea I couldn't act until then; I otherwise never would have committed to it.

Anyway, once I checked out some film fest short film VHS, and there was one on there called Walls in the Woods, which I watched over and over. I loved it. Just reading the description of it here, I'm sure you'll see why:

...we see eggbeaters flying in space, furniture creaking through the woods like a flying ship, and tools enlarged in his bedroom next to the donut shop which he dreads...

Although I can't find it online, I found out the filmmaker's name (Sal Giammona) and this is another of his. It aptly embodies and expresses the Platonic Form of Roadslapped.

High Strangeness at the D.I.

I came across a bizarre story today, involving the Centerville Deseret Industries (local LDS owned chain of thriftstores), temple clothing, a disabled guy, an insane person, and a dressing room.

The insane person abducts the disabled guy, hies into the dressing room, dresses him in a in white temple jumper, and returns the disabled guy to his mother at the checkout line, wants to pay for the jumper, practically proposes temple sealing right there, everyone is appropriately rightened and stunned. Police are summoned, and later...

"When officers arrived, the man appeared in the store parking lot, wearing his own white jumpsuit under a trench coat and a hockey mask on his face."

I will miss D.I., perhaps most of all. Don't hate me for that. I have my own high strangeness at D.I. stories.

Read the full story here.

no one, not even google street maps has such small hands

I've just discovered google street maps, and it's really bizarre. Here's a view of a house I used to own about a decade ago. It looks so different now. I sold it to a friend I worked with at Barnes and Noble, and they put up the white picket fence. I used to have all manner of flowers out front--those seem to be gone too. That house has literally doubled in price--I wish I could have held onto it. Anyway--turn around 180 degrees, and you will see the sublime view I had out my front windows. There used to be all kinds of wildlife too--owls, deer, bunnies, etc. I miss that place!



View Larger Map

False Memories...

Barbara Snow, the therapist that was in the forefront of the 1980s Utah/LDS Satanic Ritual Abuse hysteria and false memory syndrome saga has apparently been practicing her craft til recently, and has recently been disciplined:

'In January 2007, the division accused Snow of violating Utah codes of professional conduct and ethical principles defined by the National Association of Social Workers.
The disciplinary notice alleged Snow convinced a male relative he was sexually abused by his father. It also contended Snow convinced a female relative she was the victim of satanic abuse and military testing. '
read the full story here

And this is a good overview of the whole 80s thing, including Snow's role here.

I don't want to set the world on fire....

I used to be obsessed with this commercial in the 80s. There was also a couple early 80s ones for Shalimar and Bain de Soleil that were great. Later, about 87 or so, there was a cool Poison perfume commercial too.

Found it! The RB-47 Case...

So, I've been looking for a UFO report that my high school history teacher was involved with. He was also the host father of one of my good high school friends, a foreign exchange student. I recently emailed her, and she provided me with the correct spelling of his name, so I could search for the case.

Seems it's a Condon Report /Blue Book case referred to as The RB-47 case. James E. McDonald writes about his investigation here. Scroll down a bit--it's case #1.

World Famous Zoo

A belated Valentine's Day poem.

-------------------------------------------------------------

We have a flush of heater scent,

of winter, to cellar in wool;

our hearts (pomegranate rust)

do a preemie knock. They simply

want in, to struggle through condensed

books, stargaze under lighter fluid.

--

It feels like a vessel--

--

yours is a Bobcat of the Ukraine;

mine, a Lily of the Elephant.

We live in the Zoo

of World Famous Snow

under ice ribs, and we ring

the bell of this cage all evening.

The Curse of the Virgin of Nuremberg

For the longest time, I tried in vain to find the movie Horror Castle. I knew it had to be retitled, as many of those Italian gothics were. When I was about 11 or so, I had a slumber party, and my friends and I watched this thing in...horror.

My friend Sandy was particularly disturbed by a scene in which a rat in a cage is placed on a woman's face--and truthfully, Sandy's dramatic reenactment of the scence was far more terrifying and well acted than the original. She would always add the words "I can't...live this way!"

So--after lots of searching a couple years ago, I found the original title is called La Vergine di Noremberga. Lovely. I stuck it at the top of my blockbuster queue, and after waiting a while for it to be shipped from an exotic non-local blockbusting warehouse (it's a special movie!) like Rexburg Idaho or somesuch, I eagerly opened the envelope and...it was broken in 3 pieces. Damn.

I reported it damaged, and had another copy shipped. It was broken in 4 pieces. I had Steve order it in NY from Netflix. He received it, and it was broken in several pieces. He reordered it. That copy was likewise broken in pieces. I gave up, and over a year later decided to try again when I switched back to Netflix. Broken! I wasn't going to give up--I made it clear there was a problem with the DVD at customer support, and they assured me the dvd would arrive in one piece next time. I ordered it again and again, probably 5 more times in total. Every time, it was broken in at least 3 pieces, and it was not broken in the same places. I considered buying it, but I have no confidence it will arrive in one piece.

What are the chances of this? I have been using Netflix for at least 5 or 6 years, and I've never ever had another DVD arrive broken. Is there some anti-italian-gothic-cinema movement? Looking at the reviews at Netflix, it seems others have receieved and watched the movie--no complaints about brokenness.

So--it seems I am destined to not obtain this film. It might be interesting to have anyone interested in a little experiment with this to order the DVD from netflix and report its condition upon arrival. If you do this, scan or photograph the DVD so we can compare the breakage.

I'm putting it at the top of my queue tonight, and will document it when it arrives.

The Virgin of Nuremberg at Netflix

Big Brown House's and Stephen Wagner's Weird Memory

My little weird memory challenge has proven to be fascinating. I want to make sure these stories are seen, so I thought I would pull them out of the comments section and post them here. I love stories like this. Not necesarily paranormal, but definitely on a border of some type. I'll share some more later, and I'll extend the challenge to anyone and everyone who reads the blog and feels inclined to share. Just leave it in the comment section or email it to me and I'll make sure it gets posted. No rules, just a weird memory.

From Big Brown House:

When I was 15 years old, a family friend hosted her 14 year old niece Ana from Mexico for a year. Ana and I became friends, and it was somehow decided that during the summer between my Junior and Senior years, her older brother and I would swap places. I'd live with their family in Guadalajara for the summer and he would live with my family in Los Angeles.

Before leaving for Mexico, Ana and I spent a day Magic Mountain (a large amusement park outside LA.) The lines for rides were horribly long, and we spent over an hour in line for the Colossus roller coaster. During the wait, I had plenty of time to tune in to the people around us in line. Behind us was a group of men from Mexico. They seemed to be mostly in their 30s, and to my eye, almost seemed to be in costume, so unique was their dress.

Ana kept whispering things like "They're cowboys, and they're horrible. Don't look at them." I couldn't tell what they were saying, but she was clearly disturbed by it. They looked so interesting though, so exotic and so unlike the urban-styled Mexican Americans I knew.

Over the next hour, I kept sneaking looks at one man. He had bright blue eyes that seemed to glow from from his sunburned face. He had dark thick coiffed hair that looked right out of the 19th century, an ornately styled shirt that still defies description, and these spectacular boots - black with elaborate colorful floral appliques and tall stacked heels slanted in at such an angle I couldn't imagine walking in them. Those boots. I was so taken by those boots.

Fast forward a month later. I am now in Guadalajara, and have gone to the giant San Juan de Dios Marketplace. Outside on a huge amphitheater-like stairway I am sitting by myself, waiting for the family when I hear a click click click behind me. I turn my head, and clicking down the stairs beside me are these incredible black and floral boots! I look up and I swear to God it was the cowboy. He didn't see me, and I didn't say anything. I just sat there stunned and spooked by the complete impossibility of it all. Thirteen hundred miles away!

From Stephen Wagner:

When I was around 15-16, I used to head up the street to a large playground area on clear nights with my 3-inch reflector telescope to look at the stars, planets, and nebulae. (It worked amazingly well for a cheap "toy".) It was here that I had a minor UFO experience.

I watched as a star-bright object moved across the sky. I knew it was not an aircraft, and at first assumed it was a satellite traveling on its straight, swift course. But then it made a very sharp U-turn -- something a satellite cannot do (neither can a conventional aircraft) -- and then dissolved away into nothingness. But that isn't the strange part.

Very often on these dark nights, alone beneath the canopy of the Milky Way, I would challenge God to make himself known to me. (I was searching, searching, searching in those days. Not that I've stopped.) God didn't respond. But something is the shin-high grass did. I heard something stirring in the grass down there, and it was heading my way, quickly.

It scared the crap out of me. I picked up my telescope and backed up as quickly as I could, keeping the thing in front of me. Then I turned and high-tailed it out of there. What was it? A rat? A snake? Had I stayed, would God have risen up out of the grass and answered all my questions? Or maybe it was the Devil himself, rushing up from the depths to take possession of my soul before God even had a chance to answer.

Which reminds me of another weird episode. One day I was riding in an elevator in the building where I worked in Manhattan. There were two or three other people in the car, including a scraggly-looking fellow with an unkempt beard and piercing eyes. The elevator stopped on my floor, and as I'm about to step off, this fellow turned and looked at me with his dark, sharp eyes and said, "You've got the Devil in ya." Holy crap! Obviously, I can't forget it, and it's messed with my head ever since.

The weirdest memory...

So, inspired somewhat by theorris's taggin me to name things I love, I thought I'd start a new thing. I have some weird memories that I know are all jumbled up, and cannot possibly exist exactly as I recall. Here's a weird one:

Senior year of high school, hanging out late at my house with my friend Mike. We get a frantic call from our bizarre Finnish foreign exchange friend Mika Salakka, screaming and ordering us to pick him up at his house and drive him to the zoo. He was literally completely hysterical, and it would take about 10 pages to describe this guy's sense of humor. The most pain in the ass sarcastic outrageous person I've ever known. He used to steal my car without the keys--not even hotwire it or anything, just put it in gear and start 'driving' it. We almost got arrested at a hair salon once. Just trust me--Mika was out of control.

So--we go get Mika, and he was so excited he decided to start walking to the zoo. We found him on the way, and at some point, my best friend Monique ended up in the car too. Turns out his host mother Marcia worked at the zoo, and a giraffe was giving birth. Mika wanted to deliver the giraffe. But, by the time we got there, it was already born.

But, that is not the weird part. I have a memory of all of us sitting in the cage, on a loft, amid hay and stuff. Mika was eating gorilla biscuits, and they were so disgusting...really homemade looking and all slopped together, and they stunk so bad. I know the part about him eating the gorilla biscuits was real, because we gave him all kinds of crap about it for months.

I looked it up, and there was a giraffe born at the World Famous Topeka Zoo in Oct. of '84, named Dolly.

I will get Monique to read this and compare her memory.

I tag the first 2 people who read this to offer up any weird memories.

Angelheaded Hipster, Fulton J. Sheen..undead, undead, undead

I found him! I had an experience several months ago; our tv was set up weird between the cable, sound system, etc., and every time I turned it on, it would default at channel 3, which is the station for EWTN, the Catholic channel.

About every time I turned it on, it was either Mother Angelica, or this guy. He had very old shows, Spin and Marty era. No idea why I associated that with Spin and Marty--something about the precise look of it maybe.

The guy is rather animated and approaching entertaining. I found myself curious about him after I made the observation that he is pretty much like a righteous Dracula.

It stuck me the same way it did when I realized once in about 5th grade or so, watching some show, that the traditional witch costume is a take on Pilgrim garb. The dark side has adopted the costume of the holy, and there has to be a reason. Witches, Dracula, are rather shadows of their respective one of their emulation, holding all the unbridled, unrestrained power. More on this idea later.

Today on EWTN, it's all about Fulton J. Sheen. Looks like he may be a saint soon:

During the public ceremony on February 3rd – known by the Latin name of postrema sessio (“next stage”) – all documents, books and personal testimonies that have been collected for the cause will be certified and forwarded to Rome, where they will be examined by the Vatican Congregation for the Causes of Saints.

source

A possible cryptozoological theme song....

I was reading some comments at UFO Mystic, and remembered this great Shriekback song that always conjured up images of weird creatures in my head...

In a jungle of the senses
Tinkerbell and Jack the ripper
Love has no meaning, not where they come from
But we know pleasure is not that simple

Very little fruit is forbidden
Sometimes we wobble, sometimes we're strong
But you know evil is an exact science
Being carefully correctly wrong

Chorus
Priests and cannibals, prehistoric animals
Everybody happy as the dead come home
Big Black Nemesis, parthenogenesis
No one move a muscle as the dead come home

We feel like Greeks, we feel like Romans
Centaurs and monkeys just cluster round us
We drink elixirs that we refinefrom
the juices of the dying

We are no monsters, we're moral people
and yet we have the strength to do this
This is the splendour of our achievement
Call in the airstrike with a poison kiss

Chorus
Priests and cannibals, prehistoric animals
Everybody happy as the dead come home
Big black nemesis, parthenogenesis
No-one move a muscle as the dead come home

How bad it gets, you can't imagine
the burning wax, the breath of reptiles
god is not mocked, he knows our business
Karma could take us at any moment

Cover him up.....I think we're finished
You know it's never been so exotic
but I don't know, my dreams are visions
We could still end up with the great big fishes

Chorus
Priests and cannibals, prehistoric animals
Everybody happy as the dead come home
Big black nemesis, parthenogenesis
No-one move a muscle as the dead come home
------------------------------------

"My bad" and "Brangelina" neck in neck....VOTE!

Just a few more hours left in the poll over there--------->
to the right. As much as I hate the celebrity-morphed names, I would make a case for the stupidity of "my bad", but it rather makes its own case so well. I do believe I heard it in a christmas commercial featuring Martha Stewart and jessica Simpson; that should ensure its #1-ness, right? GO vote for it!