Hello to all those faithfully reading and hopefully enjoying this effort to make even the worst horror movie more watcha... aw, screw that - I'm not that good. If a movie makes you cringe because yet another batch of unlikable teens that are pushing 30 are inching toward their deaths, having a party no one does anywhere ever, a paranormal movie is boring you to tears with unending pans of empty rooms, or thanks to CGI technology when people finally bite it, their blood squirts everywhere except on the victim, the ground, the people next to them... you're in good company and this is the right place for you.

Monday, October 7, 2013

BAD HEALTH, BAD WEATHER, BAD EXCUSES, BAD BAD MOVIES




If you've been wondering where your regular dose of my acerbic and intelligent wit has been (HAH!), I must confess my faithful readers to a simple case of a physical inability to either concentrate or get what thoughts I have committed to my computer (they're on my horror movie worksheets, patent pending). Where I live we have had a weather change almost overnight from 100 degrees and above with high humidity to the low 60's and constant rain. For any of you who suffer from anything related to joints, bones, muscles (hell, the whole body) this means a massive blow as far as mobility, concentration and just plain living without a hell of a lot of pain. You'd think sitting and typing would be a simple thing. Pffft.


I've thought about getting a laptop and staying in my cozy warm bed watching my movies and writing my reviews but, besides the extra expense, it still requires brain power and the ability to transfer that stuff to my fingers to get them moving so doing that in bed or sitting at my computer is all the same as far as difficulty.

Now that I've whined myself silly let me tell you that I have not been slacking off as far as getting my movies together. In fact, I've been watching a ton of 'em - you just haven't seen the reviews yet. Hopefully over the next few days I'll be able to rectify that.



I've been delving into foreign horror again (What is with the East and their fear of freaking long black HAIR?) in the form of movies of super short, supposedly 'true' tales (in other words, Eastern urban legends), I still have the reviews of my 'Blood Bath' movie series (it's a set of DVD's Amazon sells cheap) and other goodies (read bad movies) as well as a long-overdue dual review with my friend Tim Forston.


And speaking of horror, I've been finding, besides serial killers or famous criminals, some rather unsavory things that took place in our own United States that I hadn't had a clue was something that could happen here. Of course we're sitting here right now (10/7) in the third day of no government and in an age where the average citizen on the street seems to know more about the constitution than the President so - yeah, I guess anything is possible. Here is one example (very old but still creepy):




Andersonville Prison (often called the Auschwitz of America): In 1864 the Civil War was raging through parts of the South, but actual fighting hadn't reached remote Andersonville, Georgia, where the prison camp, Fort Sumter, had been built. On one particularly hot July evening that year, a Confederate guard from the 26th Alabama regiment stood watch on the parapet of the stockade prison, which was more commonly referred to as Andersonville Prison by the locals, and as hell by the Union soldiers and sailors incarcerated there. 

The prison was nothing more than acres of open ground surrounded by a stockade fence and earthworks barricades. The destitute prisoners sheltered themselves as best they could, some with makeshift tents, others in shallow holes dug in the dirt, lined with pine needles, and covered with whatever scrap of fabric the men had a tarp, a blanket, maybe a tattered coat. The prison was so crowded that each man had just enough room to lie down.

Andersonville was thought of as a massive graveyard where the corpses were still breathing and graves were yet to be covered.


When one guard heard the definite cry of a baby among the prisoners (there were women as well as men suffering there) his paralyzing and horrid thought was that the prisoners would fall upon the poor thing as a source of food.


Because we're both in the Pacific Northwest, I enjoy finding out what sordid little (and big) things happen in my neck of the woods...


Ann Rule: She listened to police tales as a kid, she read true crime growing up, she studied police science in school, and along the way she became America's premier true crime writer. Thanks to her unwavering curiosity about why people do what they do, Ann Rule has produced 20 books about the criminals in our midst, and over 1,400 articles. Perhaps her most famous book is her first one. In The Stranger Beside Me, she wrote a complex tale about a man who had worked alongside her in a crisis hotline center. His name was Ted Bundy. Even as she strove to discover the identity of someone who was murdering young women in her area, she had already unknowingly befriended that very person. 

In 1964, Rule had read Truman Capote's groundbreaking nonfiction novel, In Cold Blood, about how two drifters had slaughtered a family in a small town in Kansas. She had thought to herself, "Oh, if only I could get inside a killer's mind like that and find out what's going on, and then write a book, that's all I'd ever ask." She's learned to be careful about what she asks for. Nevertheless, she now has the distinction of being the only true crime writer who knew a killer on a personal level before, during, and after his crimes, and who followed his trial and eventually his death.




The Murder Of Jessica: Jessica Marie Lunsford was 9 years old. On Friday, February 24, 2005, Mark Lunsford's alarm clock went off at 5:00 A.M., his usual work-day wake-up time. As Mark Lunsford continued to get ready for work, he noticed that Jessica's alarm was still buzzing. She wasn't getting up, he thought, so he went to her room to wake her. A construction paper sign with pink Magic-Marker lettering taped to her door asked visitors to Please Knock before entering. Jessica had made it with her grandmother's help. Lunsford opened the door, expecting to find his daughter fast asleep, clutching the stuffed toy tiger she always slept with, but her bed was empty. The tiger was there, but Jessica wasn't.

She had been abducted, hidden in her sister's nearby trailer and raped repeatedly by drugged out repeat sex offender John Couey. When investigators come looking, he panicked and buried her alive.

John Couey was given the death sentence for her murder but died of an illness in prison in 2009 before justice could be properly served.



I have to call BS on this next one - not because the story isn't true, but because of how they describe the Pacific Northwest. Hey, this is a beautiful part of the Country and it's never made ME want to murder anyone - and my mind is a mine field of horror...


Blood Oath Murder: Sherry Harlan: It is no secret that the Pacific Northwest region of the United States has had at least its share of violent crime perpetrated by some of the most vicious killers in the country's history. Some say the incessant rain and gray, overcast sky bring out the worst in people. Others cite the vast, dense forests that enshroud the numerous mountain ranges, evoking a Twin Peaks ambiance that some believe brings out murderous tendencies, perhaps in part because the layout of the land provides ample hiding places where one could easily dispose of a body with confidence that it would not be easily found. The cases are indeed numerous, and the case of Sherry Harlan serves as an exemplary case with the one exception that it was, thankfully, solved more quickly than many of those that came before it.

Sherry disappeared in early January of 2010. A coworker contacted one of Sherry's neighbors at the apartment complex, and a maintenance man let the neighbor into Sherry's apartment while her coworker waited outside. Once inside, the neighbor discovered that the kitchen linoleum and been pulled up from the floor, and portions of carpet and padding had been removed. The neighbor said that the apartment reeked of an "overwhelming smell of bleach," and that Sherry's dog, Roscoe, and his crate were missing. Her car, a 1989 blue-gray Nissan Sentra with Washington plates was also missing from the complex's parking lot.

A huge investigation followed, with the result of finding one Eric Christensen. Why did he kill her? He had made her take a blood oath not to date another man and when she did anyway... he collected. It was publicly revealed that Christensen had removed her sexual organs and her left breast, and had made attempts to pull her heart out of her chest. In June of 2010, the jury swiftly convicted Christensen of first-degree murder after deliberating about three hours. After the verdict was read, Christensen laughed loudly as he was led out of the courtroom in shackles, and continued laughing, cackling as some witnesses described it, as his guards returned him to jail to await sentencing. He was sentenced to 37 years in prison, the judge telling Christensen that he had committed "a barbaric act."



I would LOVE to have this house...
Anyway my lovelies, I'd like to again thank you for making my little blog see almost 41,000 views, and I've got a whole 40 people on my Facebook page (hey it could be four) and it's not a month old yet so I'm crossing my fingers and hoping those people dropping like flies off my personal page are doing it because I'm such a horrible person and not because of my horror page (wink, wink).