Tricks and Treats and Booklets of Satanists Sacrificing Cats… Oh the Things You’ll Get on Halloween Night.

By Andrew Blumetti

Yes, that classic old story again.

So, it’s November (or as I call it, “Not October”) and alas, Halloween is sadly over.

Back when he donned the eclipse-causing high hair and rat’s-nest-mullet like a first-rate 80’s champ, Jon Bon Jovi may have semi-eloquently declared, “Never say goodbye.”, but Jon, you schmaltzy-optomistic nut, the calendar says we have to.

Oh, don’t worry Bon Jovi, I’m just TEASING you…

Don’t get me wrong, Christmastime has this indescribable feel of childlike wonderment, whimsy, and snow-filled magic, and I cannot wait for the smell of freshly cut evergreens, peppermint and Nat King Cole’s gravely pipes belting out beloved yuletide carols while I spend 45-minutes searching for a parking spot outside Best Buy just to have to deal with the brainless derelicts inside.   Nonetheless, Halloween still holds a special place in my heart which is difficult to recreate no matter how many times I watch Rudolph gleefully reach for the heavens after dreamy doe, Clarice, says that she thinks he’s cute.

I love working on my lawn display, frequenting crowded haunted houses with fellow-ghoul lovin’ friends, and browsing Halloween stores complete with massive lines of shoppers snaking out the door.  And even though the 160+ candy-hungry trick-or-treaters didn’t leave me with an ounce of sugary junk to snack on, it was still a blast and a half.

…but much like that rascally ragamuffin Gary Coleman taught us—  different folks, different strokes…

“What’chu talkin’ ’bout Blumes?”

History Time:

My neighborhood, a small and quiet tree-filled suburb in Northern New Jersey is a safe and delightfully boring little town that has not just one, but two CVS’s and now two 7-11’s.  I’ve had the same neighbors since I can remember, the parking is ample, the lawns are lush and green in the summertime, and everywhere you look, a playful bunny is hopping around freshly-planted vegetable gardens like a delightful children’s book with a well-worn spine.

With a few exceptions, we’ve had very little changeover in the neighbor roll-call over the years–  most of the families are longtime residents who’ve now had their children grow up here and start adorable families of their own.

And I suppose with that kind of boring consistency, you don’t really get around to greeting the new folks as fast as you should when they actually do move in.

Mr. Rogers would be so disappointed in me.  That’s not very neighborly after all. You should really take a few minutes to welcome your neighbor, because who knows?  They could be Kate Upton, they could be your new best friend, or maybe, just maybe, you may want to keep an eye on them cause they could be just a bit odd.

But hey, who amongst us isn’t a little bit?

“Sorry Blumes, maybe next time.”

Well, that fickle little needle on the odd scale went from “a bit” to “Holy crow, it’s Christopher Walken after a dozen Mountain Dews” this past Thursday, October 31st.

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It was an unseasonably mild and relatively overcast Halloween afternoon. The breeze was nearly non-existent, and the weak late-October sun had given the ‘ol college try attempting to dry up the shallow puddles of collected rain that had fallen earlier in the morning.  After the schools were dismissed, my nephew and niece were in the area to do some trick-or-treating with my family to the local neighbors’ houses while I manned the door at home.  As it usually goes with the kiddies, excited spirits and happy feet soon turned to exhausted spirits and fatigued feet, as the joy of a spooktastic day soon began to show its age.  They returned home, and being the generous and giving uncle I am, I volunteered to help “sort out the candy”, which in layman’s terms, means “vulture-pick the kids’ freshly-earned candy stash”.

After laying down some immediate damage to a bag of Reese’s Pieces, I looked down, where amongst the crinkly piles of Butterfinger and gummy bear wrappers, we saw this staring back at us…

Holy moly on toast with jelly, what is this we have here?

My taste buds did a backflip cause- hey, isn’t that one of those Wendy’s coupon books for ten free Frosty ice cream treats?  Oh glorious day!

But no, this find should not be so sweet.

One peek inside, and we were greeting with lecturing, the cornerstone of any fun-filled Halloween.  Which is kind of an odd choice, considering we decided to give out Cheetos, M&M’s and Swedish Fish.

Now, for the record, I don’t have any problem with any kind of religion whatsoever.  My family is Catholic, and whatever floats your boat is cool with me.  I couldn’t care less if someone’s Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or if they pray to photos of Sofia Vergara’s bowling ball-shaped kid from Modern Family.

“BLOOOOMS, don’t you make the jokes on your BLOGGG about HEEEMM!”

All sensitivity aside, and with that being said, this beaut was too unsettling and gaul-darn hilarious to not share with the world, cause man alive, we apparently have some new neighbors who are borderline bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S.

This is still better than finding Mary Janes in your bag though…

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You may come home, tired from a long night of trick-or-treating, dump out that heavy bag full of sugary candy on the floor and count seven Milky Ways, five Snickers bars and a couple of Dubble Bubbles, but really, how many preachy books of cats about to be sliced up on a pentagrammed-alter do you have?

Not enough, right?

Now I know why there’s no cats around the neighborhood.  …and less cats means more mice… which means LESS CHEESE!!!!   Now they’ve gone too far…

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Twick or tweet! (apparently Satan is on Twitter now)

Just remember, Halloween’s no joke kids.

…except for this one:

-Why did the ghost go to the bar?

For the “boos”.

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Common sense would tell you, being the devil, you wouldn’t need a scary costume, cause ya know, you’re the evilest thing in existence, and the culmination of all the world’s hatred, malevolence, and terror.  Heck, people shell out a pretty penny just to dress like you on Halloween.

…but hey, that Party City coupon for that killer spooky pumpkin costume was just too good to resist.

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Bad news:  Human sacrifices will increase, so you’ll most likely be hacked to bits by guys in scratchy-looking cloaks who moonlight as roadies for Zakk Wylde.

Good news:  You won’t have to sit through another season of The Neighbors.

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Did you know?:  Witchcraft is “exploding” among teens today?  Looks like Bieber Fever is quickly being replaced with “witch itch”.

Blumes note:  Don’t mind that sour drawing of John Favreau.   He’s just bummed cause he blew a first-round pick on Ray Rice for his fantasy football team this year.

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Oh Satan you soulpatched-silly goose, the last time I trusted you, you pranked me by unscrewing the cap on the salt shaker.

Ruined my dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets…

More like TERROR-dactyl!

A Very McRib Halloween!

Written and illustrated by Andrew Blumetti BOOMETTI

Holy moly on toast, we’re finally here!

Before our mouths start watering for delicious turkeys and the stores become packed to the brim with mistletoe and holly, we still have enough gas in the tank for one last spooky blast on this lovely October 31st.

But… well… did you notice something is a bit different?   Call me nuts, but I’ve got that sinking feeling something just doesn’t feel totally right.  Kind of like when Urkel’s voice hit puberty and that squeak of his soon morphed into a sound one would best describe as an alley cat vomiting on top another alley cat vomiting on a hobo being run over by a street sweeper playing Nickelback at full volume.

Let’s do a checklist…

1. Bags of candy are ready for the trick-or-treaters?  CHECK.
2. Is my Halloween display is at full tilt?  CHECK.
3. Have I now eaten all of said bags of candy, leaving the trick-or-treaters crap outta luck?  DOUBLE CHECK.

Well, that survey is clearly air tight… so why does it feel like something’s simply off this October?  Reminds me of when they switched Harleys on Boy Meets World for one episode, not thinking we’d even notice.

“Dear Adam Scott, please get me an autograph from Ron Swanson.“
Thank you,
Original Harley

Wait a pumpkin pickin’ minute…

EUREKA!  Much like Catherine O’Hara finally realizing she left Kevin McCallister at home by himself for Christmas, it’s hit me!

WHERE’S THE FREAKIN’ McRIB?!?

It’s been an oh-so tasty October tradition for years as those McDonald’s golden arches become a bit more greasy shinier when our collective mouthbuds salivate in all their fast food barbecue-y glory at the sight of this limited-time-menu item.

Never before have sauce-slathered pork, pickles and onions created such a rabid cult following, as rib-heads chase this high-caloric thing around the country as if Jerry Garcia was wailing away on it with his nine-and-a-half fingers.

Wait, I’M Jerry Garcia?!?  Man, am I fried! 

Usually, the phantom sandwich nestles it’s way into our beating hearts for just a few short delicious weeks, eventually rushing back into hibernation for another agonizing 11-months that we have to live with just stupid regular food.

In 2012, the Mickey-D’s powers-that-be ponderously decided to delay the McRib’s usual autumn release until December, to strengthen a usually slow-sales period, help anticipation grow, and make Santa even fatter. 

So far, the porkless wait is excruciating as this fall seems to be following the same test-your-fast food-patience pattern as last year, although according to Facebook’s McRib Locator, this currently flatlined ribless-autumn may finally have a blip of a heartbeat as elusive scattered McRib sightings have started showing up in select states. Hopefully leading into what hopefully will be a full-scale release before year’s end so I won’t have to keep writing weekly angry letters to the Hamburglar.

So, it makes you wonder… with all this newly-found time off, just how has the McRib been spending his downtime this Halloween season?

Lucky for us, the aggressive paparazzi never sleeps a wink, and being the invasive monsters they are, TMZ happened to snap a few pictures of just what happens when mass-produced pork has the time of its McLife.

Strap in folks, things are gonna get saucy …

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• You can believe McRib’s shaking in his boots watching things go bump in the night in during a Paranormal Activity marathon…

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• Everyone knows no Halloween season is complete without going all horror punk and blasting some Misfits.
• His playlist:

1. “HyRIB Moments”
2. “Return of the Fries”
3. “We Are 13-Ate”
   

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• One cult following meets another as McRib crossdresses and hits up a midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show…

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• The horror!   Ribby’s spilled his Dunkin’ Donuts pumpkin coffee!!

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• Too many Snickers!!   C’mon McRib, lay off the Halloween candy!

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• Finally, no proper Halloween is complete without spookin’ your McDonald’s brethren as the McRib zombie.  Behold… THE WALKING BREAD!!!
  

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Have a safe, happy, and sugary Halloween everyone!  It’s been a fun month, and a blast to celebrate with all of you.  Catch ya in November!

–Andrew

Blumes’s Misleading Halloween Party Playlist

By Andrew Blumetti

Was your Columbus Day party as lame as mine?

Sure, the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria chili dips burned, and the bowl full of 1,492 olives ended up being a colossal waste of money, but your heart was in the right place, wasn’t it?

And how on the face of great, green Planet Earth you were able to get more suckers guests to give you a second chance only a few weeks later for your Halloween shindig makes you think something’s gotta be in the water supply.

But nonetheless, here’s your chance to make things right.  Dim the lights, toss up some icky cobwebs, a few delightfully horrific decorations, a delicious hors d’oeuvres platter of Halloweenies or Zombielamb-chops, and before you know it, folks on both sides of the Mason Dixon line will be waxing poetic about the triumphant haunted hootenanny you threw that fateful evening of October 31st in the year 2013.

Well, not so fast there chief.  Without some quality rump shakin’ tunes, they ain’t gonna be fawning like rabid Justin Bieber fans just yet.  Those fellas didn’t dress up as rootin’ tootin’ cowboys, and those ladies didn’t starve themselves for two weeks and squeeze themselves into skin-tight slutty cop costumes just to stand there in your living room like lazy lumps on a log.

“This party DOESN’T have the right to remain silent!”

Well, take it from me, if you don’t want your gussied-up guests to go stormin’ out the front door before the steaming hot Pieday the 13ths hit the table, certainly don’t pick your songs based solely on title or artist name alone.  It turns ugly, and it turns ugly fast.  

Case in point:  My 2012 party soundtrack…

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TRACK #1:  THE CRANBERRIES- “Zombie”

This might be of Eminem, I cannot fully be sure.  

Listen to it here.

What you expect:  A decrepit hand breaks the cold cemetery soil, as dozens of flesh-hungry dead cannibals rise to their rotting feet, black-tongued and blood-filled mouths, groaning the words, “do you have to let lingerrrrrrrr…”

What you get:  Not nearly as Walking Dead-ish as the title would suggest, this excellent mid-90’s alt rock staple is a protest song surrounding the violence and unrest in Northern Ireland, inspired by the 1993 IRA bombing in Warrington, Cheshire.  Don’t use it at your Halloween party, you’ll look like an insensitive dunce.

Rick and roll!

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TRACK #2:  FRANK SINATRA- “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”

“Hey punk, don’t use my song at your party, or I’ll clean your clock.”

Take a listen here.

What you expect:  Your mind races and your nerves tremble as the padded walls of the nuthouse close in on you faster and faster.  Is your cracking brain playing tricks on you?  Maybe, look at your skin crawl after all– it could be festering bugs laying their eggs, it could be a deadly disease rotting you from the inside out, or it could be a mean prank that wisenhimer Dean Martin played on you when you were using the bathroom.  The line between madness and reality is blurring faster than ‘Ol Blue Eyes’ vision, eight drinks in, at a hotel bar following a Saturday night show.

What you get:  Some feel it’s about the drink, but the popular and direct interpretation of this Sinatra favorite is likely about the all-powerful pull of love and attraction.  That overwhelming feeling when you just can’t get that special person out of your mind and heart.  Just the same way I feel about Pauly Shore.

“I love you too, budddddday.”

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TRACK #3:  FOREIGNER- “Hot Blooded”

“DOWN WITH SLEEVES!”

I guess you could listen to it here.  If you really wanna…

What you expect:  Laying in the cold bed in the harshly-lit infirmary, the soundtrack to your horrific stay is riddled with coughing and phlegm-filled hacking from fellow bedridden sickies.  Your poor head is throbbing like the Dickens, and your blood is on the verge of boiling right there in your freakin’ veins.  Your now pale complexion is drained of all discernible color and each agonizing minute of this agonizing pain feels one step closer to grim death.

What you get:  “A fever of wait… 103°”?!?  Oh for God’s sake.

True, it’s certainly no walk in the park, but that doesn’t necessarily throw you into the depths of certain doom.  It more than likely throws you into a doctor’s office to get some orders to take a few Advil and chug some more liquids.   But you have to pay full price for your office visit because the Obamacare website IS DOWN!!!!   THE HORROR!!!

“STUPID ERROR 404!!!”

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TRACK #4:  CURTIS MAYFIELD- “Freddie’s Dead”

This is how many times Curtis Mayfield’s estate is going to sue me for using his name in this article.

Get down and check it out here.

What you expect:  “One, two, Freddy’s coming for you…” 

You can finally sleep sound as your once-terrorized dreams have become much safer.  Sadistic, striped-sweatered-sleeping slayer, Freddy Krueger, has finally met his maker, as his blood-covered razor-fingers lie next to his putrid, rotting corpse, never to destroy your nightmares again.

He was also mad Curtis Mayfield misspelled his name in the title, but hey, Freddy’s got some anger issues.

What you get:  A song about the death of “Fat Freddie”, a character from 70’s Blaxploitation film, Super Fly (the song appeared on the film’s soundtrack).  That’s what eating at Heart Attack Grill every day will do to ya, Freddie.

“I don’t need you Mayfield, I’ll just make my own song!”

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TRACK #5:  RADIOHEAD- “Creep”

Radiohead is one of my all-time favorites, but this song about the Itsy-Bisty Spider just came off as pretentious.

You don’t belong here, you should be here, listening to this song.

What you expect:  What’s that?   Look outside your window.   Is someone outside?

There’s a full moon out on an icy-cold Halloween eve.  The rustling sounds in the bushes are sending a chill up your spine and making your heart race faster than Miley Cyrus shedding her clothes the second she sees a camera flash.  Is a crazy axe murderer outside?  Maybe a blood-thirsty werewolf?  Terrifying little kids with those orange boxes collecting for UNICEF?!?

What you get:  Oh Thom, you silly goose, you’re not creepy.  We love you, and your lazy-eye, and your weirdo “bacon sizzling in a frying pan” freakout dancing on stage.  False alarm people, false alarm.

Safety tip from Blumes:   Wondering if annoying hipsters have been stalking you from your window?  Look for the empty Pabst Blue Ribbon cans and empty tins of mustache wax littered on the ground. 

“I bought non-perscription glasses with extra-thick frames, just so I could spy on you better.”

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TRACK #6:  CUTTING CREW- “(I Just) Died in Your Arms Tonight”

“When we go to the barber, we just say, ‘Gimme whatever semi-modish 80’s hairdo the rest of the band is wearing'”.

Insomniacs rejoice!  Pretend you’re watching a late night “Best Love Song Hits” CD commercial here.

What you expect:  (The closing minutes of a slasher horror movie)– post serial killer attack, lots coughing up blood, gasping for many last breaths, dramatic music, and a final pleading to make it out alive.  Note:  The black guy died early on in the film.  Way to fall into lazy stereotypes, fictional movie that I just made up.

What you get:   Soft rock-   heavy on the soft, light on the rock.  When you’re 45-minutes into a wait at the eye doctor’s office for your semi-annual checkup, reading a wrinkled, old Entertainment Weekly magazine with Ruben Studdard on the cover, this is the ballad that’s likely being played on the radio.  This is the band even Spandau Ballet bullies around while on tour.

“Hey you Cutting Crew fruits, shut up, give us your lunch money and all the crates of mousse that you have.”

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TRACK #7:  THE FUGEES- “Killing Me Softly”

Apparently the ceiling fan was really interesting to stare at.

What you expect:  Under soft candlelight and the comforting crackles of a cozy fireplace, a bewitching murderer cranks up the charm, wining and dining his ill-fated victims seconds before the tapered knife is revealed and the cozy-bearskin rug is horrifically painted with splashes of crimson.

What you get:  A mid-90’s cover of the Roberta Flack hit that the DJ played at our “Class Night” dinner in senior year of high school.  Aside from making me realize that I’m old enough to remember when Pras actually had a career, it’s not really scary.  

Blumes note:  In searching for a picture of Lauryn Hill, the Google search accidentally brought up, “Lauren, Hills”.  This is not Lauryn Hill. 

“I am so Lauryn Hill! Heidi Montag stole my Grammys, and hid them in her shirt!”

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(The remaining tracks apply to any song by these deceptively scary-sounding artists with not-so scary music…)

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TRACK #8:  ANY SONG BY 10,000 MANIACS

“Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac?”– George Carlin

Go ahead, be 10,001 right here.

What you expect:  In 1964, a splatter film, Two Thousand Maniacs! was released.  A film “gruesomely stained in blood color!” about Yankee tourists humiliated and hacked to bits by murderous rednecks in the Deep South (the film was remade 40 years later by Robert “Freddy Krueger” Englund” as 2001 Maniacs).  This band must be FIVE TIMES more insane than that!  Scary math!  

What you get:  Nope.  This band should’ve been called, “10,000 White People Who Shop at Banana Republic”, and even then, the math is still very suspect.  And I shop there too.

“Breaking MTV News! Natalie Merchant buys ANOTHER wool jacket!”

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TRACK #9:  ANY SONG BY FINE YOUNG CANNIBALS

FINE. YOUNG. CANNIBALS. —– I basically can find three things wrong with that name.

Don’t drive yourself crazy, relive the 90’s here.

What you expect:  Hannibal Lecter with a Fender Strat and the most bizarre tour rider ever (when he requests an “Arnold Palmer”, you can be sure he’s not talking about the beverage).

What you get:  Probably the most misleading name on this whole list, these 90’s one-hit-wonders conjure up the image of an opening act for Slayer, constantly headbanging and hair-swirling to legions of fans, with beer in their bellies and their tattooed fists in the air.  How many teenagers were forbid from picking up this CD (no doubt in one of these old-fashioned longbox compact disc packages), due to their frightening-sounding name?

More like “Can’t-ibbals”, AMIRIGHT?!?

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TRACK #10:  ANY SONG BY THE KILLERS

Blumes note: The original name of The Killers was “Hans Solo and Three Disinterested Guys“.

You know the drill.

What you expect:  The prison jug band Charles Manson put together.

What you get:  Incredibly popular 21st Century Las Vegas-based alternative band who took their moniker from a New Order video, which may be the least-terrifying way to name your band.   Take it from me and my new band, Blumes Monday, whose new album will be out in 2016.

“I don’t care what The David Berkowitz Trio says, we’re headlining BOTH prison festivals this year- Co-Cell-a, and Jail-apalooza.  I’m not crazy, I’m God.  YOU’RE crazy.”

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TRACK #11:  ANY SONG BY MURDER BY DEATH

Hip-hip-hooray for ½-priced day at Pocket Watches ‘Я Us!

Take a break from all that candy eatin’ and listen here.

What you expect:  Well, basically, the band who’d be opening for Fine Young Cannibals, who are opening for Slayer.   Murder and death in one band name?  Bloody Halloween metal up yo tuckus!

What you get:  This talented Bloomington, Indiana-based indie act, with a highly-deceiving name taken a 1976 Robert Moore whodunit comedy, summons the uncanny sound of folky alt-country, drenched in a whiskey-soaked marriage of Johnny Cash and Nick Cave, all taking place in a haunted 19th-Century saloon.

Actually, maybe this would fit in well, tell me this isn’t the stuff October nightmares are made of…

Johnny Cash says, “Catpy Halloween!“

Mary Jane Candies: The Journey from Plant to Your Garbage Can

By Andrew Blumetti

The most perfectly wrapped cow chips money can buy!

It all starts with an innocent peanut.

Just an ordinary peanut growing in the sun-drenched fields, not much unlike any of the other millions of potential allergy-ruiners that reside on the fertile farmland soil.

It never hurt anyone, never caused a problem, never made a scene, but hey brotha, sometimes, fate just deals you a crap hand, and the next thing you know, you’re being picked up faster than a tequila-filled college sophomore on spring break by a guy in a non-ironic John Deere cap.

From legume to leDOOM!

From there, it’s just a quick slide straight down crap mountain as that simple peanut who was just kicking back on the soil soon endures the fate of an unfortunate Jigsaw victim in Saw IV, V or VI, being roasted, toasted, and grinded into a deliciously gooey paste.

“Hello peanut, I want to play a game.”

Let’s get to seasoning–  toss in some salt, a dash of sweetener, jar it, pop a lid on that sucker and this once fresh peanut, full of potential and possibility, is now part of something bigger and something even more tasty:  your favorite two words, and mine–  peanut butter.

…but with that title comes infinite possibilities or infinite doom:

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Meanwhile, somewhere sweeter…

In a secret lab which just has to be run by old ladies in supportive knee-high hose, sugarcane or sugar beets are getting a once-over of their own, refined and turned into sweet, sticky, syrupy mess, more popularly known as molasses.

You know the stuff.  It’s got the pitch-black color of the heart of a teacher who gives you homework over Christmas break, it’s sweeter than the last three minutes of an episode of Full House, and moves about as fast as a tired sloth full of NyQuil.

“zzzzzzzloth”

Not an item that typically ends up at the top of your shopping list, molasses is oddly enough, the unheralded star of some of your favorite eats.  Without it, certain barbecue sauces, desserts, beers, and rum just wouldn’t have the same taste.  Heck, in a pinch, molasses can even help remove the rust from the hood of your old ’93 Pontiac your weird uncle sold you.

…and about a century ago, this marriage is where things went horribly, horribly wrong.

Just two years after the disastrous sinking of the Titanic, the world was met with another horror, this time one of the candy kind.  In 1914, The Charles N. Miller Company decided to Frankenstein us all, adding peanut butter and molasses together. And much like the destructive giant green monster, sparks flew, wires had gone berserk, everything went awry and this abominable creation was bestowed upon us:

Ladies and gentlemen, the Mary freakin’ Jane.

Later owned by Stark Candy Company and currently by classic confectionery outfit, Necco, this taffy sugar candy has lasted over 100 years.   And with that legacy, comes a timelessness, as that maize and red wrapper signals a generationally-beloved goodie to dispense to adorable, grimey-fingered trick-or-treaters who crowd your doorstep come Halloweentime like packs of salivating wolves waiting to pounce on a raw porterhouse.

well…

hmmm…

“Give us one more Mary Jane, and you’re getting a flaming bag of dog poo on your porch!”

yep…

OF COURSE THEY’RE NOT, THEY STINK.

Simply put, Mary Janes are the scourge of the Halloween candy world.

Yes, I’m talking about you.

If you’ve ever spent weeks picking out that perfect costume and hoofing your tired little feet all over the crunchy leaves of the neighborhood, the sweetest reward is coming back home to dump out your obnoxiously huge bag of hard-earned cavity-makers all over the rug to sort them out like some sort of supreme candy god.

Making piles and separating the goods from the not-so goods, here’s a few of the biggest offenders that will soon find a permanent home in your trashcan or chucked at your sister’s head:

 

• Good & Plenty:  The dreadful licorice candy you can fortunately sell to deadheads as pills.                                            

 

• Non-descript Black and Orange Wrapped Candies:  I’d start gnawing on drywall for survival before I resorted to these.                                       

 

• Bit-O-Honey: The candy that makes bees enjoy stinging us.                               

 

…and in that ill-fated batch of not-so-dandy candy, sits that same lone peanut we started with–  mashed, smashed, and forever bound to molasses, with a one-way ticket to the Island of Misfit Candies.

“Nobody wants a Charlie, Mary Jane in the Box!”

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Wow, that’s pretty harsh, right?  That paints a cold, cold picture.  Maybe even I’ve changed my own mind.

So, this October 31st, when you look in your plastic Halloween pumpkin and are sourly disappointed to see you walked up those steep stairs to a old lady’s mothball-ridden doorstep for a half-squashed Mary Jane instead of a colorful pack of delightful M&M’s, maybe it’s time to do some corn-syruped soul searching…

Just think, maybe this could be your arm!

Perhaps there’s someone out there who will love the sweet journey of that poor peanut.  Perhaps there’s a generation who hears “Mary Jane” and instantly doesn’t associate it with potheads sitting in a drum circle.  Perhaps this is just a textbook case candy ageism, and we should respect our sugared elders, giving them a second chance.  And perhaps come November 1st, an open mind will reward us with our new favorite treat.

And if that’s the case, please send me your address so I can mail all of mine to you, cause those things are gross.

HAPPY SNACKING EVERYONE!

–Andrew

13 Unscary Horror Movie Costumes (BOOOOO!)

By Andrew Blumetti

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Happy October everyone!

Bust out the crispy apples to bob, the bumpy pumpkins to carve, and the scary black cats to avoid.  It’s finally the spookiest time of the year, and I couldn’t be happier.  To celebrate, this post will begin a month’s worth of Halloween-centric topics.  From goofy costumes to Trick or Treating to horror movies, all writing/art during October will be a Halloween celebration.  Hope you enjoy!

Best witches,

-Andrew

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“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” 

– L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

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Now, if your tenth month of the year is anything like mine, your DVD player will be working overtime, playing every scary movie ever made all Halloween season long to put you in that perfect chilling mood.  (It’ll also be filled with purchasing bags of candy for trick-or-treaters way too early, and snacking on them all month long instead, but that’s really a story for another time.)

Seriously, these things won’t make it past October 2nd.

See the sun dropping earlier?  The air is getting chilly and you’re quick to break those hooded sweatshirts out of their long slumber, the only way to celebrate is to get the blood pumping by crankin’ up the terror.

It’s perfect time to throw on some comfy slippers, kick back with a warm cup of apple cider and watch Jason slash up some ill-fated teenage campers, hordes of mindless zombies descend upon the ramshackle house in Night of the Living Dead, and Leatherface rev up that grimy, rusty chainsaw to really ruin someone’s afternoon.

Horror movies and Halloween season go hand-in-hand in the most fun way possible.  It’s that eerie time of year we’re slightly more apprehensive to shut the lights in the kitchen or we may drive a little faster when we pass a cemetery at night.  For these 31 days, don’t imagine trying to walk in the dark without looking over your shoulder, even for just a split second.   You know, every creak, every squeak, every sound could be terror right around the corner, waiting to take you down.

Of corpse course, those same beloved horror anti-heros are a cash cow for the Halloween costume-business as well.

Let’s investigate further.  In 2013, when it comes to adult Halloween costumes, there’s basically four major categories to pick from:

1. Superhero (examples:  Batman, Superman, Spiderman, etc…)

Wow, they Photoshopped a girl in there pretty seamlessly, didn’t they?

2. Guy Who Makes a Giant Cardboard Facebook Profile Around His Head

Fact: Mark Zuckerberg gets a dollar every time you wear one of these.

3. Trashy ANYTHING (girls freezing their tails off to thoroughly skank up any costume or character available)

“Halloween, just the way your grandparents spent it.”

4. Scary (examples:  vampire, zombie, witches, monsters, horror movie characters, etc…)

BRAAAAAINS!!! (Hey zombies, don’t go to the trashy costume picture for those.)

(Blumes note:  Miley Cyrus costumes can count as numbers 3 AND 4)

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And category four is where we’re focusing today (I know, I know, we were all hoping for trashy ones, I kinda was too).

When pulled-off correctly, seeing our most feared and terrifying wet-your-pants-in-fear villains, ghouls, and goblins come to life, it can be a horrifying treat to experience.

Or… how when those same ghastly villains costumes aren’t pulled off correctly,  it’s well… cringeworthy comedy at its finest.

Lock the doors, turn on the lights, and get your best scream ready, cause it’s the Halloworst!

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CRAP COSTUME #1

Who’s that mess?:  Jason Voorhees

Film:  Friday the 13th

Estimated costume cost:  $2.00

But he should look like: 

And you wondered why the attendance at the Florida Panthers game is so low?

But why’s it a train wreck?:  True, true, the weaker Friday… films did feature lumbering camper-killer, Jason, with a smart, Supercuts-esque, well-quaffed, white guy-hairdo, complete with a red Aeropostale t-shirt, but c’mon fella, you look more like Jason Bateman than Jason Voorhees in that craptacular costume.

He should actually be careful, that mask is so cheap, it’s likely those air holes are just painted on.

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Hey kid,

Thanks for making me look less stupid.

Love,

Jason X

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CRAP COSTUME #2

Who’s that mess?:  Carrie White … I think

Film:  Carrie

Estimated costume cost:  $5.95

But she should look like: 

“Don’t you people think? All the fries will be ketchup-less now!”

But why’s it a train wreck?:  One time, many many long times ago, I felt my throat getting dryer than Harrison Ford on a talk show interview.  Yes, friends, it was that classic instinct- thirst.

Of course as fate would have it, all that was around was a bottle of Mountain Dew Code Red.  Sure, there’s questionable red dyes in it, but brotha, beggars can’t be choosers.  When you gotta quench, you gotta quench.

As I went to grab it, ‘ol butterfingers that I am, I dropped it like a total glom.  Shaken Mountain Dew isn’t safe by any means, but the intense thirst was winning, and I needed relief right then.

So, I turned the cap and BAM!!!   The sticky corn syrupy-soda exploded all over me, and I was covered in an embarassing red.

Bottom line of my story?  I looked more like Carrie than this girl does.

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CRAP COSTUME #3

Who’s that mess?:  Hannibal Lecter

Film:  The Silence of the Lambs

Estimated costume cost:  $6.00

But he should look like:  

If you think this is scary, you should’ve seen me in Freejack!

But why’s it a train wreck?:  Well, for starters, you couldn’t have a less intimidating kid playing Hannibal the Cannibal.  He’ll only get to trick or treat if he can unstuff himself from his high-school locker and get out before dark.

Lucky for him, I’m a “glass is half full” kind of guy.  On the plus side, when November 1st comes around, this goober can cut the bars off and make this thing into the beard he’ll never be able to grow.

That’s right, win/win buddy!  Blumes is lookin’ out for ya!

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CRAP COSTUME #4

Who’s that mess?:  Captain Spaulding

Film:  House of 1000 Corpses/The Devil’s Rejects

Estimated costume cost:  $3.00

But he should look like: 

“Wait, they’re using pretzel buns on burgers now?!?”

But why’s it a train wreck?:   Well, frankly, he’s sassy.  Like “jazz hands” kind of sassy.  That’s never a good look, especially for a dirty, scummy, merciless murdering clown.

Plus the painted-on facial hair, wacky uneven eyebrows and constipated face just come off as scary, but in all the wrong ways.

You gotta remember Flamboyant Spaulding, bran flakes are your friend in a time like this.  How do you think Freddy Krueger stays so regular?

“Two bowls of Raisin Bran a day, and I’m good to go!”

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CRAP COSTUME #5

Who’s that mess?:  Michael Myers

Film:  Halloween

Estimated costume cost:  $3.99

But he should look like: 

“You can’t trick me. I saw Home Alone, I’m not falling for that paint can on the stairs trap.”

But why’s it a train wreck?:  With all that time spent murdering people, how’s soft-rock Myers gonna keep his place playing bass for Michael Bolton’s backing band?

That’s a Michael Myers spread way too thin.

To Michael Myers: “How am I supposed to live without you?”

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CRAP COSTUME #6

Who’s that mess?:  Freddy Krueger

Film:  A Nightmare on Elm Street

Estimated costume cost:  -$0.02 (for stolen plastic utensil)

But he should look like: 

Freddy during Madonna’s “Vogue” craze. With those fingers, that was a painful time.

But why’s it a train wreck?:  ♪  “One, two, Freddy’s gonna eat stew”  ♪

Don’t fall asleep… at lunch?  Because Freddy’s back, working at a mid-range IT firm to haunt your dreams, torment your innocent soul, and mercilessly plastic spork your sad-self into a bloody pulp.

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CRAP COSTUME #7

Who’s that mess?:  Billy the Puppet

Film:  Saw

Estimated costume cost:  $12.50 (I didn’t charge for shoes)

But he should look like: 

“Maybe people would treat me with more respect if I went by ‘William the Puppet’. Sigh. “

But why’s it a train wreck?:  It’s not really a bad costume per say, the effort is surely there.  I just can’t get past the fact this adult on a tricycle spent his hard-earned dinero on a crappy magician’s tuxedo, Saw mask, and a shiny new bike, but decided that’s where the purse-strings closed, and usually-valuable shoes would have to suffer.

“Fred Flintstone-ing” your costume when it’s not required is a classic Halloween faux pas, and isn’t going to win you friends anytime soon.

Seriously–  try being at the party, talking to this creepy schlub with his grody, grungy feet sticking out within a five-foot radius of the dip, and tell me you’re not gonna lose your appetite and head for the nearest exit.

Also, this Billy mask features the hair of Roseanne Barr back during Roseanne Barr’s awful hairdo period.

YIKES!

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CRAP COSTUME #8

Who’s that mess?:  Chucky

Film:  Child’s Play

Estimated costume cost:  $4.99

But he should look like: 

Chucky: Still less scary than Carrot Top… and less painful.

But why’s it a train wreck?:  Procrastination never pays kids.

This is what happens when you wait till Halloween afternoon to buy your costume… at the dollar store.  And not even the good dollar store that sells Twix at two for a buck, it’s the one where you need to cry in the shower like Glenn Close in The Big Chill when you get home.

“Everything there was off-brand! What’s a Twankie?!?”

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CRAP COSTUME #9

Who’s That Mess?:  Micah Sloat and Katie Featherston

Film:  Paranormal Activity

Estimated costume cost:  $0.00.   Literally zero.

But they should look like: 

“Seriously kids, you literally had to dress up like white people. How’d you screw that up?”

But why’s it a train wreck?:  How could you not be a fan of the 2009 found-footage demon fest, Paranormal Activity?   Created on the budget of two iced frappes at Starbucks, its Hitchcockian-attack on the senses of “less is more” was a refreshing minimalist change from the gorefests that seem to overtake modern horror.

As for this low-grade attempt at the main character’s costumes, obviously these two derelicts just wore their Kool Aid-stained pajamas to a party.  In fact, I doubt if they even knew there was a costume party.  This was just a result of a sloppy lunch.   Or more likely, lunches.  

(Also note:  This girl is barefooting it.  It may be accurate, but still a major no-no.)

(Also note, part 2:  Check out that “mummy” sitting on the couch behind them.  That party has no standards whatsoever.  Can you imagine the chips they bought?)

“Is that those kids in the costume?!? Oh no, it’s a demon. Phew.”

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CRAP COSTUME #10

Who’s That Mess?:  Pennywise the Clown

Film:  Stephen King’s It

Estimated costume cost:  $6.50

But he should look like: 

“I’m smiling because my landscaping business is taking off so well.”

But why’s it a train wreck?:  Ask anyone who suffers from coulrophobia (fear of clowns), and many are certain to pinpoint their petrifying fear back to this devilish creature from one of Stephen King’s most famous works.  His eyes turn a terrifying yellow, he has razor-sharp fangs, and he yanks little boys to their untimely bloody deaths in the rain-drenched sewer like Dr. Smith in Lost in Space.

Well, show them this clown college reject, and their nose-honking, balloon-animal fear will go away faster than this clown’s self esteem did, apparent by his “I lost ALL of my money betting on the Giants game last week!” face. 

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CRAP COSTUME #11

Who’s that mess?:  Shaun Riley

Film:  Shaun of the Dead

Estimated costume cost:  $1.05 (for name tag)

But he should look like: 

“C’mon! This is NOTHING like the Thriller video!”

But why’s it a train wreck?:  From the neck-down, it’s actually not.

True, zombie-killer/slacker Shaun’s costume isn’t much more than a bloody white shirt and tie with an added bloody cricket bat, but the fact this guy looks like a Slayer roadie is really ruining the overall look.

and think of the fallout at the next Slayer concert…

Slayer:  Hey, this guitar string broke mid-song, get a replacement, quick!

(silence)

Slayer:  Geez, what’s taking so long?!?

Tour manager:  Your roadie is trick or treating.  We’ll have to cancel the concert.

Crowd:  BOOOOOOOOO!

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CRAP COSTUME #12

Who’s that mess?:  Regan MacNeil

Film:  The Exorcist

Estimated costume cost:  $1.00

But she should look like: 

“Fellas, I’m on Plenty of Fish… and available!”

But why’s it a train wreck?:  Somehow this girl managed to get out of bed, look like a total disaster, and still mess up the intended “get out of bed and look like a disaster” look that demonized youth, Regan has to endure in the horror classic, The Exorcist.  

And now, for your reading enjoyment, I was able to score an exclusive interview with Regan herself to get her opinion on this controversial costume issue:

Blumes:  Regan, can you please give me your feelings on this girl’s lame wannabe demon getup of you?

Regan:  

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CRAP COSTUME #13

Who’s that mess?:  Ghostface

Film:  Scream

Estimated costume cost:  $0.50

But he should look like: 

“I will finally get my revenge on Gordon Ramsay for kicking me off the show!”

But why’s it a train wreck?:  Go into any Walgreens or CVS store this time of year, and you’ll see a ton of these now classic Scream masks taking up residence on the shelf, and their prime selling point?  Most of them won’t break your bank in the least.

Yes, it’s a cheap costume that’ll give you little hat-hair, and hey, you’ll get the same amount of candy, right?

Apparently this  dude doesn’t get out much, seeing as how he decided to make his own crappy version and reak havoc on Japan by tickling his victims to death and running amok with all the yen he saved.

Look at him living it up…

“Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame-seed bun!”

Three Scare Meals a Day: Everything You Never Wanted to Know About Count Chocula, Boo Berry, and Frankenberry

By Andrew Blumetti

As the once fresh-green leaves begin their inevitable journey to crunchy Orangeland and Yellowville, and the mercury on the thermometer drops while the daily dose of white girls in yoga pants fawning over Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte on Facebook shoots up, there’s no denying it any further ladies and germs-  We are in full autumnal mode.

A season I never was super crazy about as a child, (what red-blooded kid really likes the carefree summer ending and school to start again?) years later, I absolutely love this time of year.

There’s a refreshing crispness to the cool evening air, football season is in full burst, fresh-pressed apple cider is on every shelf, and Halloween season, my favorite holiday, is ramping up speed.   Chock full of creepy haunted houses, blood-curdling horror flicks, just-carved pumpkins, and spooky decorations as far as the eye can see…

…and don’t think your the walls of your local supermarket can keep you safe. 

Rise and shine, wipe the gross eye-gunk out and look twice in the morning, cause your simple breakfast is now in danger.

The “Monster Cereals” have once again been unleashed upon us–  a classic line of cereal created by General Mills, complete with a cult following, found annually on store shelves from September through Halloween.  At one time produced year round, they now are only available seasonally during the fall, just in time to make Tony the Tiger run for the hills and Snap, Crackle and Pop shake in their sugary britches.

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CHAPTER I:  MEET THE GOBLINS YOU’LL BE GOBBLIN’

COUNT CHOCULA:  Vampires drinking blood is sooo Twilight, cause this fanged-fiend has a Sweet Nosferatooth.  His cape is nearly indistinguishable from his hair, he’s got a Barbara Streisand nose, square buck-teeth fangs, and “hunka-hunka burnin’ love” sideburns that’d make Uncle Jesse green with envy.  Get your daily dose of Bran Stokers!

 

 

BOO BERRY:  Get your spoooooooooooon ready this moaning, cause it’s paranormal snacktivity time when this blueberry ghoul fills your bowl.  While his snazzy bowtie and hat may scream out “1920’s jazz musician”, it’s you who will be screaming when this always-tired looking poltergeist joins you at the breakfast table.

 

FRANKENBERRY:  With all those gears, clocks and whistles on his head, he looks like a steampunker straight out of Victoria’s Secret, but this Pepto Bismol-y hellion is anything but.  Flamboyantly tasty, this strawberry Frankenstein is “igor” to make your breakfast frighteningly delicious.

 

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CHAPTER II:   HOLY CRAP!  THE LEGEND OF FRANKENBERRY STOOL

Take a trip back to the early 70’s…. Once upon a time, when disco reigned king, lava lamps had yet to become “retro”, and Cher had less fake body parts…

After the introduction of Frankenberry, the bloody-good cereal caused some unexpected and jarring scares to moms and dads nationwide…

As the tale goes, the mad scientists from the spooky lab at General Mills used a certain red dye to give the cereal its trademark color.  Frankenstein had his final revenge on the living as said red dye didn’t fully break down in the human body, and the pinkish scare parents received during potty time became an unintended hilarious result infamously known as “Frankenberry stool”.

The braintrust at General Mills wisely decided this “my cereal’s turning my poop red” press wasn’t a wise marketing move, and have since changed the boo poo formula to a more stomach-friendly dye.

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CHAPTER III:  THE MONSTERS HAVE RECORD SALES!

I always thought my parents’ old Elvis records were a collector’s dream, but if you’re a true vinyl lover, your wax collection isn’t close to complete without off-tune breakfast ghouls serenading you.

Presented here, for your listening enjoyment, is one of a line of free records included with the cereal, entitled The Monsters Go Disco.

We’re still holding our breath on that ghastly  cover of “I Will Survive”, but in the meantime, fasten your bell bottoms, here’s a taste of campy monsters gone campier:

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CHAPTER IV:  QUENTIN TARANTINO AND FRUIT BRUTE-  A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN

People of Internet Land, meet Fruit Brute…

Upon first glance, this hairy Halloween hooligan may not be instantly recognizable as a household name.

There must be a full moon out because here’s a fruit-lovin’ werewolf who met his eventual discontinuation in 1983.  Much how John Travolta’s sinking career was thrown a grindhouse-y life preserver from director Quentin Tarantino, he also attempted to toss one to the Brute, as an old cereal box made a cameo appearance in some of QT’s most prolific films from the 90’s:

Here’s his appearance in with Lance, a mangy heroin dealer in 1994’s Pulp Fiction:

…and with Mr. Orange in 1992’s Reservoir Dogs:

“Are you gonna bark all day little Brute-y, or are you gonna bite?” 

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CHAPTER V:  THAT CRUMMY DUMMY NAMED FRUITY YUMMY MUMMY

 

To fill the void of those who love fruit cereal and missed the ‘Brute, “Fruity Yummy Mummy” was introduced to a yearning public.

You’d think calling a character fruity might be a bit politically incorrect, but it pales in comparison to his originally offensive moniker, “Wrapped-Up Flamer”.

Much like The Mummy films, public interest was tepid at best.  Production “wrapped up” on Fruity Yummy Mummy as he joined the Brute in the cereal graveyard in 1993.

but…

As the old saying goes, “everything old is new again”.

On a stormy, cold, early autumn evening, as the howling wind blew the rickety shutters around like a worn-out ragdoll, it was said that a unkempt cherry-scented paw and a decrepit fruity wrapped hand both broke open the foggy, cold cemetery ground and rose up from their breakfast graves, shambled past the chipped, weathered headstones of “Nerds Cereal” and “French Toast Crunch” …

…and then they traveled into your local supermarket. 

Tell your milk to suck it up and get ready for a crap-your-pants scare.  2013 marks the long-awaited return of both Fruit Brute and Fruity Yummy Mummy to store shelves.

 

The Smiths may never get back together, but this is a pretty close second place. 

 

 

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CHAPTER VI:  TATBOO!!

A rabid cult following often leads to obsessive behavior-  fanatics still line up for midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture show, and diehards camp outside McDonald’s for the yearly appearance of the fast food Bigfoot known as the McRib.   Keep that in mind when the next time you come between a man and his breakfast food…

Skulls, crosses and heart tattoos are too pedestrian for these inked-up cerealites, as they’ve made their love of Monster Cereals permanent.  While some monsters want to get under your skin, these monsters will have to settle for being on it.

Blumes note:  Ladies, if you dig these, let me know, I just may end up with one.

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CHAPTER VII:  PRANK CALL MATERIAL

Ever meet someone with an unfortunate last name you know they grew up being teased with?  Ask any “Tom Banana”, “Lisa Smurfs” or “Bill Spaghettios”, every day of high school ridicule must’ve been a daily nightmare.

Growing up with the surname of  “Frankenberry” couldn’t have been a jolly walk in the park either, and I’m sure all these people could testify to that fact.

LISTINGS OF LAST NAME “FRANKENBERRY” IN THE UNITED STATES:

 The Frankenberry family reunions in Pennsylvania must be a real hoot.  Every meal is pink and the three-legged race is a suspenseful thrill ride.

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CHAPTER VIII:  MOVE OVER AL ROKER

Today’s forecast calls for a 30% chance of raaaaaaaaaaainnnnn!  (Get it?  Like a zombie?)

Actually, if we were to name this after Al Roker, we’d have to call it Poo Berry.

(rimshot)

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CHAPTER IX:  COUNT ON A FIGHT!

There’s only room for one friendly non-blood sucking vampire in this town, and the eternal battle’s waged on for years.  Hide the garlic, and stay outta the sunlight, this is most likely how True Blood will end one day:

“DING DING!  Ladies and Gentlemen!  Welcome to tonight’s main event–  a fangy Battle Royale for the ages!  Two pale purgatory pugilists in a fight to the (un)death!”

“In this ring, straight from a cardboard coffin in some creepy Cocoa Transylvania, the deliciously… the chocolately…  the sideburned…  the Riboflavin-y…  Mr. Count Chocula!”

“And in this ring, hailing from Sesame Street- he’s lilac-colored, he’s got eight total fingers, he’s good with numbers, and he’s got Snuffleupagus poop on the bottom of his shoe…  it’s Count Von Count!”

Frightened readers, it was said the infamous vampire battle went on for hours.  So long, Abraham Lincoln and Buffy even konked out and lost the urge to slay them.  In the end, it was Sesame Street Count who reigned victorious…

in one round, two rounds, ha ha ha…

“Number One baby!”

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CHAPTER X:  COUNT CHOCULA AND FRANKENBERRY WERE CROSSDRESSERS

They wore the same thing!  How embarrassing…

Ru-Paul made a living out of dressing like a woman, but when it comes to dress-wearing, these bozos oughta stick to their day jobs.   But I guess if it’s good enough for J. Edgar Hoover, it’s good enough for them.

Blumes note:  Tell me you weren’t thinking Frankenberry looks like Charles Nelson Reilly.

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