1-900-CREEP

Yessir, the world had limited entertainment options “back in 1988”. Telephone “Party-Lines” were a thing– or getting lost in the labyrinth of an automated-system “for a thrill”. . . . . though the real shock was when your parents got the phone-bill. “in this world of worlds”, what do you think you, or I, or anybody “would dredge-up out there”?

      

  

Beetlejuice’s phone-line sits, “mostly unanswered” as it’s another “get-broke-quick” scheme. He’ll be “an internet millionaire in no-time”. . . . .

  

 

1-900-CREEP

Halloween 1987

Mists rising from grates, dark and glistening streets, infinite shadow and mystery.

Things loom large in the magical recesses of a young boy’s brain.

The world is open-ended at that time, dreams and nightmares—and surreal events in the gnarled, twisting unconscious as you’re “carried along” in a larger-than-life fever.

Strange tastes, smells, and sensations—one big “impressionistic montage” as fairy tales live inside.

Scary, exhilarating. . . . . . and wonderfully dangerous.

Life oozes blackly, inexorable and surreal.

Half-glimpsed references, curling back on itself in a dungeon where a bright, gap-toothed bucket of Halloween candy grins in welcome.

Happy Halloween!

 

 

And “Happy Birthday” to Winona Ryder. Long Live Lydia Deetz, “QUEEN OF THE DEAD” and Fetching morbid-angel.

Halloween 1987

Friday the 13th, SPECIAL GUEST

A vintage “Halloween” sort of interview from 1989 on the old Arsenio Hall show. The stoic actor beneath the hockey mask manages “to keep a straight face” as an eerie guest “silent as the tomb”. Must be beetlejuice’s neighbor in the trailer park, down the dirt-gravel road by the old fence.

The new “Jay & Silent Bob”?  Beetlejuice talks for the two of them, both. . . . . as “it’s show time”.

And fate has it, that Beetlejuice 2 has recruited a new writer. Good night & good luck, don’t forget to tap “a bit of backwoods, underground talent” if you’re ever stuck.

Read about it here: http://deadline.com/2017/10/beetlejuice-2-new-writer-mike-vukadinovich-warner-bros-tim-burton-1202184970/

 

Don’t forget. . . . . a funny treatment on the subject.

bj2_teaser_1point3_wga

  

Friday the 13th, SPECIAL GUEST

From Bone-Yard to Broadway, ARISE!!!

 

In the style of “The Addams’ Family”, “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” and other ookey, spooky properties Beetlejuice doffs the hat and twirls the cane in the “Bigtime, showtime”. Call it tin-pan alley or merely just a playbill for you, he will pull entertainment out of his hat “like a real song & dance man” of twisted, devilish joy for the whole family.

https://www.broadwayworld.com/article/Kerry-Butler-Danny-Pudi-Alex-Brightman-and-the-Cast-of-BEETLEJUICE-Workshop-Share-Behind-the-Scenes-Photos-20171001

  

 

From Bone-Yard to Broadway, ARISE!!!

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”!

Haunted Halloween Cornfield & Pumpkin Shoot

The video, above—is a promotion for St. Louis’ own “Silo-X” haunted house company.

There’s nothing like the ritual of the changing seasons, the fall carnival of the macabre—and a young man’s prurient interest in blood, guts, and zombies. A night of fantasy complete, if for a wide-eyed little filly holding your hand as the two of you bolt through a chamber of choreographed mayhem.

And they say if you want a goodnight kiss you take her to see a movie like Dracula, perhaps a world of Old World romance as mystical and deep as fertility and blood like a full, ripe pregnant belly beneath a haunted moon—the cycles of change rising in your heart of certainties like full-bodied communion with ancient nature, sun & soil and recusal from the underworld of organic subconscious.

(Or its just an excuse to be chased around by zombies)

Make that REDNECK zombies, a mirror image of this American life all in shrieking skulls and flannel shirts like something wispy-haired and awful from “Tales from the Crypt”. For shock value and garish, grody thrills you might even throw in the “big tent” ministrations of “Larry the Cableguy” telling you to have a safe ride home back to the city.

Death is ooky and cathartic with a cheery ending­. . . . . more so than the plain, old awful business of living. But suffice it to say, the supernatural—existence of anything, AFER THIS—is a positive take on life & death. Perhaps being alive is a journey to the abyss of revelation, a widening swath of awareness as the cornfield rustles with a tuneless empty wind, the void of night-chill still as a graveyard.

Then again is the flurry of unsophisticated entertainment, evident of man’s folly like a safe-space of guided disorder and paid-for chaos.

Beetlejuice knows all about it, our favorite out-state resident and small businessman who decides to get his own attraction going. It’s a redneck zombie hayride and paintball shoot as you plink away at ghoulish actors lurching after the wagon, and swiftly pelted by fast-moving projectiles and groaning with a pained stagger before collapsing.

Fiendishly, by trick of refurbished reincarnation “second chances” you might get down at the ole’ “Payday Loan” these lost souls are distinctly unhappy. Living death—and unpaid mortgages. It’s much the same as pumpkins grin by glow of candle-light.

Have a cold soda from an onboard cooler as Beetlejuice steers the power-mower and pulls the wagon behind him, narrating the tale with a slurred, snaggle-toothed laugh. Needless to say, he’s pulling these paying suckers straight down to hell, or your local life lending office & death exchange where he’ll lick the bills and pronounce himself an American success story.

His eyes shift hot, his mouth all-gibbity as he takes a swig from a hip flask. You’re not using this life for much, are you? He’ll take it and even throw in the chains for free down on the rag & bone junk heap of “all sales, final” and NO REFUNDS.

Couldn’t you read the fine print? No worse than the average storefront car title-loan company, he means to grind by on the defeated karma of others like the bottom-feeder of the netherworld he truly is. Don’t look “a gift corpse in the mouth”, but you’ll pay him back one way or another as a recycled spirit.

Maybe Beetlejuice should get a mouth full of broken teeth like a bloody jangle of candy-corn. One of these millennia he’s going to get his ass kicked behind a barn. Then where will he be? Probably selling meat from door-to-door. Don’t ask, “but you get the idea”.

So don’t go to that one haunted cornfield attraction even deeper in the dark midnight boonies. Stick with Silo-X instead as word-of-mouth decrees this place a legitimate enterprise for the big kid in both you and me.

Don’t accept rides or candy from strangers as “it’s a living”.

Or just “a death house”.

You want the mold on that corn-dog?

 

Haunted Halloween Cornfield & Pumpkin Shoot

Day of Doom at Hand– Comic Relief at the Election Horror Show

Judgement Day, THE DAY OF DOOM AT HAND. For this horror show called our 2016 Election, we wish to post a video that seems to comment on the Beetlejuice 2 experience in these parts. Rest assured, Beetlejuice does not vote– never had the inclination or interest. As dogs die, people die– the affairs of state bear little interest in the march of time. Along the margin, he only cares about cheap gasoline and the ole’ “Dollar-Store” keeping open. And keeping one step away from the skeptical, ticket-writing cop. Keep taxes low, and you’ve about channeled “The Red State ID” around these parts– like all-night food bars at the local gas station and watery A.M. fundamentalist radio by the dashboard lights. Haranguing and damning, as most low-lives go about their business in hand-to-mouth bleariness, left to negligence and living in splendor or on nothing with equal, greasy ease. Heavy metal– and then again, “Satanic panic” as you don’t think most out here really have the wherewithal to form much of a conspiracy, other than “a confederacy of dunces” staring at Elvira’s cleavage on “Mistress of the Dark” hour. Evil talks, evil walks. . . . . evil SNORES, passed-out on booze, pills, and candy. Sin lives in a hole-in-the-wall apartment and mostly keeps to itself. Civic virtue, it ain’t. Bum a cigarette off you? Pass those Swisher-Sweet cigars as life down here is DIRT CHEAP below a sole, dimly-swinging lightbulb in a buttermilk glow like roaches beneath a red-flashing neon sign, “Beer, Pool, Fun”. A noggin as dense as a cinder-block building, crushing beer cans against his forehead. For his next trick he’ll flip a toothpick between his teeth and jack-off. America, tis’ of thee and providence bless us, each and every one.

tumblr_nvrmju0xxv1qedb29o1_500  electric_guitar

Make America Great Again. . . . . Vote Beetlejuice 2. I’m with him!

Day of Doom at Hand– Comic Relief at the Election Horror Show