Scenic, Twisted Missouri. . . . .

 

Hobgoblins of telecommunication have knocked-out my internet here in St. Louis– as seen on the national news where flooding is a story. You’ll see lots of rolling, bumpy green hills from the sky-chopper, incidentally “a notion of where Beetlejuice 2” might be filmed.

And what’s this business of creepy clowns? You hear these stories about perverts in the woods messing with kids’ minds as this sounds more like “tall tales” and mass panic.

Though in Eureka we do have our share of weird happenings.

Just think of this place as a township a few miles outside of the city, beyond the county, and deeper in-state. If Lodi, New Jersey produced Glenn Danzig and Aberdeen, Washington calls Kurt Cobain a home-town son, this place would draw a comparison.

Through the haunted woods– you might here stories about hidden meth-labs. . . . . or was it just a hotdog cook-out? Or twisted imbeciles left abandoned in the woods “by their handlers” to pull on car door-handles and garble unintelligibly. . . . .

It is a world of camp-fire lawn chairs and beer coolers where you see the rugged nature of the outback mixed with zany artistic-impulse, like rusty nails dipped in buckets of diet cherry 7-Up and a whole lot of mind-altering drugs for skaters and BBS internet-pirates “back in the day”. Drifters, drift-wood, and homebrew wailing guitar. 1920’s hunting lodges and whorish Bettie Page spanking-gear with bee-stung lips and 1950 Atomic X-mas as told by serial killers like Ed Gein– and rockabilly mutton-chops.

The coldest touch. . . . . like crib death or a toddler with a Frankenstein haircut as it’s “The Munsters” or “Garfield’s Halloween Special” or even “Return to Oz” for green, foaming dark fantasy death with claw-footed bathtubs and the gray, leaden sky out the window.

Beetlejuice would be under the bridge, fishing. His friend, a black, scruffy poodle with giant, swinging, tumorous balls and blind to the world.

Someone call the health department– or maybe the dog-catcher. We don’t know, for who.

As the story goes, “living in a van– down by the river”.

The cops will hose him off in the drunk tank “because of the unbearable smell” and tell him to raft away to the next town. He’s the Missourian vagrant. . . . . or maybe it was Florida.

Moving south for the winter as an itinerant carnival worker if not a kids’ show host on television. Don’t dress up as Chuck’ee-Cheeze and keep a clean police record. . . . .

Scenic, Twisted Missouri. . . . .

BUBBA THE REDNECK WEREWOLF

Bringing you quality entertainment the next town over from Beetlejuice’s Rockin’ Graveyard Revue. I sense “cross-over” material in that godforsaken south county apartment, like a play-pen of sin and bleary-eyed malfeasance. United “UNHOLY FORCES”– the meeting of the minds. It’s all “yonder Highway 44” on the outskirts of St. Louis. . . . .

  

 

Visit this gnarly animal here at: http://www.bubbawolfmovie.com/

BUBBA THE REDNECK WEREWOLF

Radio-Hour of the Damned

“Coast to Coast A.M” attracts the moths of some ungodly hour like a camp-fire of space legends and supernatural rumor. The lonely, the unemployed, the night-shift, the susceptible as millions tune in to hear strange tales like freaky futurism and ancient alien astronomy that takes a page straight from the old “X-Files”.

The dark groan of the highway and tingling signals of terrestrial talk-radio as anything seems possible. As the world sleeps, idle thoughts away from the rhythm of the ole’ punch-clock and working week. Mysterious, pondering at the night sky—the third stone from the sun, as mix LSD with psychotropic medicine, or maybe just a whole hell of a lot of gas station coffee and the fevered unknown.

The last neighborhood in America. . . . . subconscious dream-states and murky existence where a great deal of Beetlejuice lives like the beckoning legs of a trap-door spider and the whites of his hyper-active ghoulsh eyes like a salesman from the outer limits.

Alien abductions. . . . . “picking-up earth-women”.

Cattle mutilations. . . . . “anyone up for a BBQ?”

The land of 24-hour diners & truck-stops like 3 A.M. breakfasts and cagey, libertarian constitutionalism with the right to self-defense like a laser pistol in some James Cameron movie.

And here come the straggler’s. . . . .

Visit– http://www.coasttocoastam.com/ and catch them on local radio!

Radio-Hour of the Damned

Bill & Ted go to Hell, Meet the Easter Bunny

A clip from “Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey”, almost entitled “Bill & Ted go to Hell”. . . . . where they meet the easter bunny and practically a Easter family Get-Together, for the entwining of fate & real life.

Party Hearty in the after-world of Contemporary Fantasia!

Will there be a Bill & Ted 3? Make it happen before the dudes end up in a retirement facility, if we see that Beetlejuice sequel first. Let’s see it before Doomsday, itself.

Did you know? Alex Winter (the blonde kid) is actually from St. Louis! Righteous Local alumni!

 

Even the “Wyld Stallions” have to eat. Enjoy the local St. Louis Loop in University City, right by the Tivoli movie theater where Alex Winter was a special guest at the big film festival a couple of years back. Voted one of the top districts in the nation– have a bite!

Bill & Ted go to Hell, Meet the Easter Bunny

Death by Scientific Misadventure

 

Top secret military-research installations. . . . . particle accelerators. . . . . . chalkboards full of twisted math.

If you poke around scientific news, the world of theoretical “mad science” physics becomes ever more alarming. Half of it may be true, and scary to think. Curved space, holographic projections of hidden dark matter, black hole “event-horizons” that all wrap around and fold back into itself only a few like Albert Einstein can grapple with.

Of course, just what that has to do with the chunky Claymation “netherworld” of spiraling hallways and leering sand-worms is not immediately obvious.

But we take a bit of artistic and scientific license.

Still as mysterious as ever, the world of theoretical particle-things presents a barrier of the sheer unknown that twists-upward with crazier implications—but for the rest of us it’s Pay-Day Loans and teller’s windows—if not poking around the internet for the odd, strange, and unusual.

The world “just is” and pity to think that existence could collapse in on itself with strange misadventures in doomsday science. Mix that in with the internet “singularity”—or the idea that we’ll morph with our super-computers to form a cybernetic post-humanity of bits and bytes.

No doubt, someone will stake their claim to all this cloud-based “online information” and become a super gate-keeper, or broker, or master of earth through “the internet of things” or predicting where everyone and everything will all be at once.

Just think about it—if this cyber-wind of various bits n’ bytes and columns of numbers inside databases could be harvested by minute fractions of a penny—then turned around into currency speculation to eventually “call the shots” through warring banks of computers. . . . .

Scarier than you would think, especially when Beetlejuice’s nephew—a no-good fat shit in an evil clown-suit—ditches the technological retardation of his namesake uncle and takes his mischief-making freelance. There’s a certain smarmy sort of hacker or internet pirate you’d definitely remember from the early days of illegal “Napster” downloads who’d lean back in a chair and sip a jumbo Big Gulp from 7-Eleven and “live it up”.

Why? Because he can! Along with these little online screeds or declaration of cyber human-rights that sketchily justify why the internet can go on doing “exactly what it was doing” by illegal file-sharing and putting record companies out of business.

It’s THE MAN, man as morality has as much legal ground as that which can be whittled down by 1st Amendment arguments and stances on computer science.

Somehow through all this theoretical scientific and cyber-mayhem, if not a satellite-dish pointed toward the stars, a mist descends on this localized source of mayhem as dragons fly in and out between the St. Louis Arch in the nighttime sky as the fate of the world falls into the hands of Beetlejuice to clumsily “correct things” and be a hero—or else the netherworld and the living world “will be no more”.

Battling it out with Hugo—as Lydia and friends scramble around to fight an enabling corporate outfit that wants to turn St. Louis into a toxic waste-site as part of a bigger tax write-off scheme, closing down community broadcasting and the downtown homeless shelter.

Worlds collide, as Beetlejuice has been sucked down to Earth and gets entangled with one of Lydia’s harried “shut-in” fans, a caper gone wrong with a stolen suitcase of money as local bikers get involved and THE PLOT THICKENS to all collide downtown on THE NIGHT OF HELL as history sometimes calls upon “one man”, but Beetlejuice is laid-out in the sewer, jerking-off.

If the stakes couldn’t be any scarier, it’s comedy gold with the world in the balance in this rambling, unlikely tale and product-placement romp. Truth is stranger than fiction and inspires the development of this crazy script into something wholly original and bizarre.

Keep watching kids—and Beetlejuice will never disappoint. If you believe in him and say his name 3 times hilarity will ensue for first-rate bargain-basement entertainment.

Never outdone or out-matched, the blog continues like sheer mental masturbation

“Dirty Balls”, have I.

 

Death by Scientific Misadventure

Warner Bros. “Label-Mates”!

Take a brief course in diversion from Judge Alvin Valkenheiser in a movie called “Nothing But Trouble”, just a few video tapes down the shelf for whacked-out “Saturday Movie II” entertainment on local “bush-League” television. A direct cousin to “Beetlejuice” and nothing less than a cult-classic.

 

Warner Bros. “Label-Mates”!

A Rambunctious April Fool’s Day. . . . .

Though understated in the original movie, there’s nothing like white trash/low class mayhem as a picture is forming where Beetlejuice comes from.

One way to understand it is watching Texas metal barbarians, Pantera “tear shit up” back stage with drinking and drawling depravity unto the home jack-off session of tour pranks.

There was something about the ’90s. . . . . maybe it was wider communication or the plethora of Wal-Mart knock-off merchandising for dollar-store value, but you could see the endless novelty of things as the underbelly burbled-up in full view on “Jerry Springer” t.v.

From standing in a garage in the middle-of-the-night with all the gear plugged in, too hip-hopping around a bunch of neighbors by a magazine of exploding fire-crackers, you just know Beetlejuice is somewhere in the neighborhood.

Action, excitement– as things are otherwise “very slow” as the cinder-block liquor store full of goodies is a couple of blocks, over. Be 21 or be gone. . . . . or have enough holes in your brain development to go off “and get crazy” anyway.

Just watch it go. . . . . and we make no disclaimers otherwise to tell you–

DON’T TRY THIS AT HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Rambunctious April Fool’s Day. . . . .