If all gravel roads lead somewhere, you wouldn’t be surprised to pass old, broken-down trailers in the neighborhood. And a fixture of riff-raffery, some of Beetlejuice’s low-down neighbors poking around a grill like a whiskey-guzzling musk-rat.
Brutal, lordly. NSFW– (“Not safe for work) as if a dude like this even worked.
It’s “El Duce” from the shock-rock beer-belly set. You’ll recognize him for his sadomasochist stylings, concealing his objectionable identity with a black hood and guttural offensive charms as he fronted “The Mentors” like THE KINGS OF SLEAZE festering on the Pacific Coast.
Langouring trailer-park women in leather and garters, his presumed harem as he bulges out his eyes like bonk-headed, glazed space mutants in foam-rubber monster costumes “demanding to be gratified”.
Indeed, “a threat to health, wealth, and morals” whose raunchy lyrics were presented before Congress in hearings by “The Washington Wives”, calling for restraint and decency in the music industry. Good luck with that– the only thing they succeeded in doing was getting “Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics” stickers on tapes & CD’s and probably just making the offending music THAT MUCH MORE ENTICING.
No matter what, you’ll always have the bottom-feeders like ole’ El Duce putting on shows and selling underground records out of a car trunk, a slap on your shoulder and an ice-cold beer in the other hand as he yuks it up like an unsubtle statement about America.
Just another misfit in the world of Beetlejuice “who fits”.
Call him “Uncle Perv”. . . . . though I think Lydia would remain wary to the proposition of returning to a motel with his guy. After all, she broke-off the marriage contract with Beetlejuice in the movie, spared from obscene fate, an X-rated boast.
If even from El Duce– who once sensationally claimed that Courtney Love offered him money to whack Kurt Cobain. Maybe a nugget of some off-color joke “grows with the telling” but watch as everyone attempts to cash in.
Like a dubious character witness, I wouldn’t trust him either as you can’t forget Beetlejuice “selling used cars” at the cemetery lot with the giant lit sign– the giant arrow pointing to “dirt-low” credibility, the rotten truth in all “the fine print”.
A foul trickster, free speech for the dumb as you can’t “outlaw evil”. Keep this movie PG-rated, IF YOU DARE. Or else my name is Jerry Springer. . . . .
Don’t “Shake Hands with SNAKE”
Ah, something from my pre-school youth as true to the Halloween of ’86/’87 as can be blackly, subconsciously gleaned from proton-consciousness. Call it an era of “He-Man” and Gobots as everything trailed a long like a kind of half-logical “non sequitur” for an early mind that lived in dread of midnight nightmares.
You had the sensation “of being carried, along” as I remember being invited to a backyard Halloween party from one of the kids at school as there was a long “trash-bag tunnel” hanging up by trees, out by a strobe-light. Skipping around in my “Skeletor” costume, as I was too scared to make much headway there, over the course of the evening though I sidled-up, close– half-daring to. What was in that black maw? Anything, I suppose– and how things seemed to turn real if you imagined them, enough as you groped through surreality.
Maybe I’d retreat inside deeper to find a table hung with spider-webs as Beetlejuice lit a match and took a long drag off a foul, ookey cigaratte. And then offering to buy your soul like something out of a twisted fairy-tale as he tapped the ashes on the table. Flanked by an army of trolls and tangled “tree-monsters” making moans in the chill air.
The sale was so potentially awful and shiveringly “FINAL”, off you’d bolt from the goblin-hole as monstrous laughter followed you like something out of a creepy fairy-tale– like all of hell was pursing you through the inky, scrabbling blackness.
The world was certainly filled with lots of cheap horror movies and swords n’ sorcery you’d see in video-stores, which leads us to “Ghoulies 2”.
Ah, they don’t make ’em like they used to.
You suspect that a young Winona was almost cast in this, like cute girl/big-eyed home video bait for all the kids watching at home, over an ordered pizza and sleep-over “fright-fest” at a friends’ house. The effects “were what they were” at the time as it amounted to rubber puppeteering and fog machines, and few goodies in the way of computers. The same, with “Critters” or anything falling in the copy-cat footsteps of “Gremlins”.
So Blackie Lawless of W.A.S.P. dressed like a Dungeon/Star trickster stars in a video/metal single that promotes the movie, similar to Dokken in “Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors”. Pure cross-promotional gold as it seemed– back in the early days of MTV. It doesn’t take long to put two & two together in emerging media forms as that was considered the golden touch of marketing.
I think a few beasties like this might make their way into “Beetlejuice 2”. No promises. So stay tuned for our next installment and happy “All Hallow’s Eve” to you listeners. So say it once, twice for effect, third time for “good luck”– “BEETLEJUICE 2 RULES!!”.
Scream until you like it. . . . .
It’s here. . . . . bonkers, foam-rubber shock-rock and cosmic villainy like all-screwed-up trash t.v. Notice that it fits in fine with a revamped Netherworld where Beetlejuice and the dead roam like lost television signals in the night.
Apparently, Beetlejuice’s face “has ended-up on a milk carton” as no one knows where he disappeared off to, probably being digested “for a thousand years” like in that gorping sand-pit mouth from Star Wars: Return of the Jedi as he crossed too many people.
Betty White takes over for the irascible old caseworker from 30 years ago as it’s a bitchy-drag off a castigate like a jaded old casting agent as the tale must be told– getting the audience “up to speed” with media cameos across the modern landscape of cable-news and the grind of syndicated “human interest” shows, or even a cameo from “Judge Judy” as they make their case against an absent-chair.
We’re greeted by cameos from other haunted franchises– even a disgusting-looking “Slimer” from Ghostbuster’s gobbling donuts from the green room and rolling his eyes like a sick dog as a long line of characters complain. They’re quite unhappy, as you come to meet all the lost souls Beetlejuice ever screwed-over.
But one thing will bring him back– the premier of “Beetlejuice Returns”, or a movie not even shot yet as cosmic board-room politics at Warner Bros. carry-on, like a conversation with Darth Vader as they deliberate over “how to make the movie”, as the audience is watching the real movie– and how their deliberations screw-around “with holes in the plot” like occasional commentary and studio-interference.
Shit happens. . . . . and Beetlejuice will find himself at the middle of it.
You like this idea? Tell your friends and lets start a grassroots revolution. Bring it to St. Louis– this film can be made!
Yes, and The Academy Award goes to “the best supporting actor”. . . . . COUSIN HUGO!!
Who of course, could be played by a rotund, hand flung-back demon in face-paint as I give you “Insane Clown Posse” for all of your shock rock inspiration as he helps flesh-out the movie and gives it a spine.
Of course, the entire film can’t just be Beetlejuice up to hyper-active hijinks as he’s best when he has someone to play-off, of. You think of modern-day character-types or some scum-mongering opportunist sipping a soda behind a broken-down Windows lap-top and otherwise setting-up his computer “to make money”.
(Not talking about myself, obviously)
If you think about it– all that scratch/dab of online data like a crashing sea of badly-written code “sloshing-around” in cyber-space ought to be geared to generating income, or processing it like a gold-panner scraping-out mere increments of a single penny, but then add it all up and you might have quite a fortune, there.
Cousin Hugo is far ahead of Beetlejuice on the ole’ technology curve and otherwise tries to introduce him to the 21st century. His uncle is so much a part of paint-flecked, old aluminum fences and other garbage, like cans & sticks scraped-together that he can scarcely imagine all of this new-fangled computer business and gets tangled-up in a messy mud-pit of unteachable ignorance.
Hugo corrects him, sarcastically and is a bit of a link to the younger generation as a modern-day cynic, internet libertarian, and pot-smoker like many people we know in the online “spamming” business. A good contrast, and eventually he goes off on his own and eventually works as a hired office-hand or system adminstrator for a corrupt St. Louis property developer, mixing his practical and netherworldly skills to eventually threaten all of existence through a cosmic hole torn in the universe by a military research installation.
The ticking clock. . . . . will Beetlejuice save the day? He, himself is zapped-down into earthly realms and wandering around like a lost soul as he otherwise gets into trouble around my own local backwoods– chased by the military “on the trail” of runaway ectoplasm, barfed out of the shooting furnace of an experiment gone terribly wrong.
Hugo will either take over the world or destroy it as he must be stopped, either way. Will Lydia and her motley crue of skaters, punks, and misfits do their part to save the galaxy? Near a water-bong, near you as this movie has to be seen to be believed.
We’ll be back, tomorrow as I thank all my readers for following this blog. So say it three times– not “orange juice”, not “tobacco juice”, but BEETLEJUICE! BEETLEJUICE! BEETLEJUICE!
You have been warned. . . . .
As outsiders to Hollywood board-room politics, I claim to come from nowhere else “but Bumfuck, America” as do most people. Just think: the swank suits, sunglasses, and constant industry shorthand talked into a cell-phone as they cruise down Hollywood boulevard in a fire-apple red convertible.
Or at least that’s the impression of agents. If not “industry suits”, maybe?
But in the world of Beetlejuice 2– and get this– you could see the offices as a kind of galactic room of maggot-like gladiators, debating over the fate of the movie and breaking what is known as “The Fourth Wall” and deliberating in front of the camera like on the wavelength of Darth Vader or whatever.
It’s none-other than GWAR– the foam-rubber monster shock-rock band. And if “buckets o’ blood” isn’t “gimmicky”, than what else is?
Yes, overlords unto cruel, crude fate as they summon in one writer after another and have them beheaded– even as the crowd gathers outside of the “Beetlejuice Returns” premier, hungry for a sequel “that hasn’t even been written yet”.
So a surreal exercise, a bit like that movie theater scene in “Blazing Saddles” with radical shifts in audience perspective– both the audience “in the movie”, and then one day when the film actually plays before a living, breathing audience.
And where is Beetlejuice?
Conked-out and snoring in a coffin as the movie-going audience starts chanting his name– a delay before the narrative starts– and boy, do we have some great surprises for you.
So keep following this blog and we’ll explore more ookey, kooky, creepy levels of all things “Beetlejuice” as we’re so glad to have you as readers.
Until then, “don’t you go changin'” and we’ll return tomorrow.
Hello, everybody. . . . .
More antic madness from “The Gong Show” with a parody band known as “Green Jello”– famous for a video-only album of grotesquely bonkers/bogus metal-tunes and the best video-studio effects you could have in the early ’90s with Claymation and foam-rubber monsters. Later forced to change their name to “Green Jelly” because “Jello” is copyrighted by Krafts Foods Inc. But the songs on the “Cereal Killer” album were unchanged– even referring themselves as “Green Jello”.
Otherwise, the lyrics “wouldn’t have rhymed” and they weren’t about to re-record their album, say with overdubs. Just a minor footnote in creative skater/stoner history as their influence is handed down to me, this day– from the age of 12 as that was one of my first metal albums other than cheap $2.99 compilation cassette-tapes at the ole’ clearance and “odd lots, BIG LOTS” store down on the rough side of south St. Louis.
Hey, you get what you pay for. . . . . . and here are two articles full of well-researched trivia and other background information about the original Beetlejuice movie.
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll hurl– your head will spin with production notes! All in bringing to you the best possibilities, living-up to a Beetlejuice sequel worthwhile.
We’ll be back, three shakes of a lamb’s tail. . . . . . so hold on to your temples and (don’t you hate it when that happens?) and see the world through a work-horse of bloggership, building steam like pistons unto my dream project.
See you in the funny pages.