Saturday, October 12, 2013

Meanwhile at THE SECRET KNOTS... 'The Strange World of Martin Kardek' continues


The new BROODHOLLOW storyline is beginning!

From the Broodhollow webcomic

What lessons will you take from THE BACKWATER GOSPEL?

From MADARTIST Publishing

Check out the creepy horror film BEHIND CLOSED DOORS


The subtle artistry of THE YOUTUBE COMMENTS CHOIR!


Goddamn cats EVERYWHERE!!!!

from i09

THE F*CK??? or What if Jack Skellington had Tourette's?


Friday, October 11, 2013

CALVIN'S CANADIAN CAVE OF COOLNESS recommends the art of Ray Cornwell II


and RoninDudeRonin Senki

BEHIND THE COUCH considers the 1970 version of THE DUNWICH HORROR


While Haller’s take on the story sticks closely enough to the basic plot, it differs with the inclusion of Sandra Dee as Wilbur’s love interest, Nancy. There are actually very few female characters in Lovecraft’s work, let alone female characters who act as love interests for the male protagonists – Lovecraft’s leading men were austere and scholarly and had no time for such dalliances. As mentioned, the basic elements remain intact, such as the revelation that both Wilbur and his brother (the titular Horror) had been born from a ritualistic encounter between their mother and something not quite human, and Wilbur’s attempts to gain The Necronomicon and use it in a ritual to summon the Old Ones, only to be stopped by scholars from Miskatonic University. At times the film possesses a Corman-esque quality (not surprising, he produced it), particularly in the interiors of the Whateley house and the matte painting of the cliff top temple, which bears a resemblance to imagery glimpsed in a few of Corman’s Poe films. The inclusion of the idea of whippoorwills as soul collectors, their chirping coinciding with souls departing from mortal bodies, seems thrown in for the hell of it, whereas in Lovecraft’s story, the presence of these birds was a reminder of the weird atmosphere abounding throughout the lands around the Whateley house...

(Another story from the archives of Al.) Pass It On, It’ll Make Your Skin Crawl

Pass It On, It’ll Make Your Skin Crawl
Al Bruno III

The dog was barking, its voice high and frightened. Josh woke at once wondering how long he had been asleep for. He had just lain down for a moment to relax but the clock told him he had been out for hours. Josh shook his head, no wonder the dog was barking.

His wife Dina stirred uneasily, eight months pregnant and forever uncomfortable. Josh smiled at her in the dark, still terrified and bemused at the thought of fatherhood. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt Josh opened the back door expecting to find his beloved mastiff bounding in place expectantly.

Good thing my nearest neighbor is over a mile away.

The fenced in back yard was empty and the front gate was still latched. Up ahead the dog’s barks had become combative snarls.

This made no sense. Josh had trained Roscoe well; the dog knew his boundaries and going past the front gate when he wasn’t on a leash was simply not allowed. Josh headed around to the front of the house, to the dirt driveway that was far enough back from the road to reduce the occasional pair of headlights to frail shafts of illumination flickering between the trees. After ten years of living in the heart of Chicago he still found it hard to sleep without the murmuring din of the city and the light from oncoming traffic.

Earth oozed between his toes as he scrambled between his old battered truck and the newly purchased minivan. Four footsteps later and his feet were caked with mud and he vowed to himself that this spring he would find a way to finance paving the driveway.

Along with touching up the roof and re-grouting the bathroom wall … and the baby too. He thought. So many plans, so many expenses.

The dog became silent. “Roscoe?” Josh called, “Come here boy!”

A muffled cry filled the air. It was a human cry. No dog ever made a sound like that.

Visions of lawsuits filling his head Josh plunged forward into the trees to find Roscoe half-chewing, half-gagging on something wet and gleaming. Another shape was retreating toward the road, nearly collapsing with every pained step. Josh ordered the dog back to the house but Roscoe was snarling, his ears pinned back. Josh had to strike the dog to make him obey.

This is crazy! Roscoe never acts this way. At least until now.

The trespasser, if that’s what it was, collapsed between a pair of trees.

“Are you all right?” Once he was sure the dog had retreated back to the house Josh moved closer, “Did he bite you?”

A car sped past leaving him with a snapshot image; a supine shape, slender and dressed in a shapeless orange and white hooded suit. A dark stain spreading out from the figure's midsection; blood soaking through the layers of cloth and PVC. The suit was hooded with a clear plastic faceplate that was cracked into a dozen spider web patterns; it obscured the wearer’s face beyond any hope of recognition. Josh involuntarily took a step back, a generations worth of TV shows and movies had taught him what a hazmat suit looked like. The knee of the suit was torn away, marking the place where Roscoe had bitten. There was something about the wounds that looked too dark and too greasy.

Then the car was gone and all Josh had left was shadows.

The figure in the hazmat suit spoke with a voice that was a sexless rasp, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you all right?” Josh felt ridiculous asking the question. He and his father had gone deer hunting for years, he knew a bullet wound when he saw one. The bite on the knee from Roscoe was nothing compared to that.

“Somehow dogs always know. It’s even in one of the memos. I should have stayed back but I saw your truck…” The figure made a sound somewhere between choking and a nervous laugh, “I thought you could help. Isn’t that hysterical?”

“Look, you wait here. I’ll call an ambulance.”

“Wait. Don’t go,” the figure in the hazmat suit sat up suddenly and whimpered from the pain of it. Josh flinched away from the smell of the wounds; the scent brought to mind something septic and rotten. The flesh beneath the cracked faceplate was all swollen ridges and thick furrows. Those unnatural striations shifted and slithered of their own accord. The figure pushed the strap from a tattered knapsack into Josh’s hand, “Take these. It’s almost too late...”

“What-” Josh drew back.

“I can feel it. I can feel it in my bones.”

With a soft splitting sound a thin weal opened up on the flesh of the dog bitten knee and blood, heavy with thick wormy shapes began to ooze from it. The shape in the hazmat suit mewled. Flecks of red began to spatter the face plate from the inside, shapes wriggled against the broken visor.

Stunned and almost breathless Josh ran back to his house. The front door hung open; he must have forgotten to close it behind him. There were muddy paw prints in the kitchen. Josh scrambled for the phone. Who could he call? The police? An ambulance? The fire department? Josh dialed 911 and let them decide. Whoever they decided to send it would take fifteen minutes at best for them to get here. Would the man- or woman- in the hazmat suit even be alive by then?

When the 911 operator finally answered Josh gave them whatever information he could and hung up.

Should I wake Dina? Should I go out there and tell that… guy I think… that help is on the way? Maybe I should wash my-

Josh looked down at his hand; he was still holding the muddy, torn knapsack. He looked at it for a moment, and then dropped it. It tore open from the impact, a digital camera and a sheaf of papers spilled across the kitchen floor. Tilting his head at an angle he saw they were all documents with some kind of a corporate letterhead.

Trinity Advance Corporation, they have a place about a few miles up the road. They’re a medical research facility… they make artificial limbs and stuff.

Josh glanced closer at the papers, they were all photocopies and they looked to have been hastily made with the images off center and marked with the occasional glimpse of a finger or hand near the corner of the document. They all seemed to concern something called ‘Research Initiative I:VI:VII’, it was all over Josh’s head but the one thing that did catch his eye was a map of an unnamed city with concentric rings drawn around a central point. Each ring was marked with different percentage- ‘99% Efficiency… 71% Efficiency… 49% Efficiency.’

Sifting through the papers Josh found other documents, letters from ranking military officials first sanctioning then removing support for the project. The dates however didn’t add up to the other requisitions and testing data.

The digital camera was within arms reach. Josh picked it up and flicked it on. A small LCD window lit up giving him an image of the Trinity Advance building; he could see their triangle shaped logo that read TRIAD near the main gates.

With a push of a button he was looking at another image, this one of a room full of prosthetic arms in sealed vacuum pouches. Figures had been caught moving in the background but the picture had been taken in haste making them seem distended and inhuman. Josh wondered how the person in the hazmat suit had gotten onto the grounds of the building, past the checkpoints and electrified fences.

Another press of the button and another picture, this one of men in familiar-looking orange and white hazmat suits. They were working in a long white room, tending to vials incubators and microscopes. Is this where they make vaccines? Whoever did this had brass balls. I wouldn’t break into a lab like that for a million bucks.

The fourth picture was similar to the first except now it appeared the picture taker was on the other side of the room. There was a trough of some kind to the left of the frame; it seemed to be filled with some kind of a dark liquid. There was a stain on the floor nearby, a patch of discoloration that seemed to resemble a smeared handprint. There was something about it Josh didn’t like.

The next digital photograph was the last, the symbol in the upper corner of the frame read ‘5/5’. This picture was almost the same as the third picture except for the two figures in the center of the frame, a man and a woman. They reminded Josh of sketches, all clean angles and perfect features. They were dressed in street clothes. The woman had her head thrown back in laughter, the man had his head turned towards the strange troughs but his eyes were focused directly on the camera taking his picture.

What is all this? Will I ever know? Do I really want to? Well the police can sort it out. But I still better wash my hands just in case.

Roscoe groaned. Josh turned to see the dog laying half in and half out of the bathroom doorway. The old mastiff’s breathing was labored and phlegmy.

Josh knelt beside the old dog and reached out to stroke his fur. It writhed beneath his touch. Josh pulled his hand away as though it had been scalded. Roscoe took a final sobbing pant. Pale shapes began to seep from the dog’s mouth and the corners of his eyes.

“We have to get out of here,” Josh choked back tears. His car keys were on the counter in the usual place; he called his wife, shouted for her.

“What’s wrong?” Dina’s speech was slurred with sleep.

He rushed into the bedroom, pulled her to her feet, “We have to get out of here.”

He was afraid that if he explained more he might start sobbing or screaming.

He thought of the map in the pile of papers on his kitchen floor…

‘99% Efficiency… 71% Efficiency… 49% Efficiency.’

Where was he now on that map?

“What’s the matter?” Dina pulled away from him, “Tell me.”

“Listen, please…” He kept tight hold of her hand; out of habit he put his arm around her waist.

He felt the skin of her belly flutter and undulate.

Dina winced, “Oh! He’s awake too.”

Josh’s eyes found the muddy paw prints and it all made sense. Didn’t Roscoe always go to her when he thought he might be in trouble for chewing up a pillow or having an accident?

“Honey?” Dina asked, “What’s the matter?”

Josh didn’t answer; he just kissed his wife and waited for the police to arrive. He tried to tell himself it was just the baby kicking, but he knew that when the police arrived here they would find something terrible.

He could feel it in his bones.

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

I think this novel is 50 SHADES OF WRONG!!!

From the novel's AMAZON page

When she inherits and old house, Brittany begins to recall visiting it once as a teenager and finding an old glass dildo in the basement. She and her friends pay a visit to her new property only to discover strange sex toys and other odd items lying around. A diary found under an old bed finally explains the mystery of the house...

More Halloween art from FALSE POSITIVE


LiarTownUSA is a ticking time bomb of rage!

Wow LiarTownUSA, you really went there didn't you?

RETROSPACE looks up "Actresses Who Appeared in Their Underwear in 1970s-1980s Comedies"


PORKY'S Susan Clark as Cherry Forever Became the mom on Webster!

PRIVATE SCHOOL Betsy Russell as Jordan After she divorced Vincent Van Patten, she got a master's degree in Spiritual Psychology from the University of Santa Monica and married the producer of the Saw films.

VALLEY GIRL Elizabeth Daily as Loryn Became a successful voice actor, providing the voice of Tommy Pickles in Rugrats, Buttercup in The Powerpuff Girls, and even Babe the Pig.

HOUSE OF SELF-INDULGENCE looks back to the film CAVEGIRL (1985)


A love story for the ages, Cavegirl managed to reaffirm my belief in the healing power of love. Call me mentally unwell, but the moments when Rex and Eba are apart were some of the most agonizing scenes to watch. This, I think, is a testament to not only Daniel Roebuck and Cynthia Thompson, who give career defining performances, but to visionary writer-director David Oliver who allows their relationship to build slowly over the time. And because he used this patient approach, the scene where Rex eventually has to decide which century he wants to spend the rest of life in is so gut-wrenching. As "Anonymous" by SSQ plays over the end credits, I think most people in the audience will agree that Rex made the right decision. And the same can be said for my decision to watch this underrated exploration into the jagged nooks and crannies of the human heart...

The Cold Inside (a serial novel) Chapter Thirty-Two part one

The Cold Inside
Chapter Thirty-Two
part one

Tuesday January 17 1995

Brie Matthews woke up a few minutes before the alarm went off. She hated it when that happened. She didn't want to get up but she didn't see much point of trying to go back to sleep either. The sun hadn't come up yet but pale purple light was beginning to fill the room. She stared at the digital readout of her clock, waiting for the minutes to pass. That seemed to be all you did when you were a teenager; every morning she waited for the bus, when she got to school she spent every class waiting for when it was time to go home. What it all came down to was she couldn't wait to graduate, she couldn't wait to start making those first fledgling steps to independence.

As far as she was concerned the whole stupid high school thing was a waste of her time. After all she was one of the Matthews family; the same Matthews family that had been active in Albany politics for almost half a century. Her grandfather, uncles and father were all important parts of the Democratic Party’s machinery. No one had ever been elected to Mayor without their help or approval. Power like that meant one thing, patronage - nice cushy jobs with the State for all the members of the Matthew family tree that wanted them.

The civil service tests and interviews were just for the regular folks, both of Brie's sisters had landed jobs without ever taking a single exam. It was like Brie's grandfather said, “The Matthews family takes care of the city so the city takes care of the Matthews family.”

Brie switched off the alarm and forced herself to sit up. It was time to get going, she needed to make herself pretty for Evan. The weirdness lately was really stressing him out; Pam said she thought he had been selling bad weed. As if that-

-Brie didn't remember lying back down, and she didn't remember going back to sleep but she found herself staring at the alarm clock again. It was almost ten minutes later.

Must have dozed off. She thought groggily as she kicked free of the covers and swung her legs out of the bed. She paused in mid stretch and looked down at herself; her camisole was twisted and bunched crazily around her. Brie adjusted herself and paused again, her skin felt all tingly and she was a little damp 'down there'.

What was I dreaming about? She wondered half amused and half disturbed. It wasn't like her to get horny when she was all alone.

The rest of the house was already beginning to buzz with activity. She could hear her father and mother at the breakfast table. Puffs, the family dog, was pacing outside Brie’s door, growling and fretting. It sounded like he hadn't been fed yet.

Brie straightened her camisole, pulled on her bathrobe and stepped out into the hallway. Puffs wagged his tail and backed away, not wanting to be petted. “What’s wrong honey? Gotta go for a walk?” Brie called to the kitchen, “Will someone that’s dressed take Puffs for a walk?”

She preferred using the shower in her mother’s bathroom. Brie’s friends all thought it was odd that her parents had separate bathrooms, and separate bedrooms. Her Mom and Dad insisted that it was the secret to their long-lasting marriage but Brie had to wonder what would happen once she moved out.

She gave herself the once over before stepping into the shower. There was stubble starting to sprout on her legs. Did she have time enough to take care of it? Well, if she ran late she could just mooch a ride off one of her parents. Brie hung up her robe, stripped out of her nightclothes and got into the shower.

An odd, self-conscious feeling came over her. Brie tried to put it aside and focus on her morning rituals. She started off with a face cleanser them moved on to body wash for the rest of her, then it was time for the shampoo and conditioner. Sometimes other little side rituals were needed as well, at least once a week she had to take care of her legs and armpits and every Monday she tried to do her nails a different color.

Guys sure had it easy in the mornings compared to all that girls had to do.

The sensation kept growing. Just in case she poked her head out of the shower curtain but there was nothing but steam. She didn't know what was bugging her so much- 

-The smell was so strong she almost gagged. It was a cloying mixture of the chemical and the perfumed. The shower's water temperature was running down from lukewarm to cold. Brie cupped her hand over her mouth. A burning sensation was working its way down her scalp. What was going on here? Was she sick? Was this the effect of the tainted pot? There was an empty plastic bottle floating by the drain. How did that get there? Brie reached down for it.

Something dark and thick plopped down into the tub. It was a lock of her hair.

The burning sensation was getting worse but for ten seconds all Brie could do was stare at the empty Nair bottle and the clumps of hair slowly falling around her feet.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

It's the furry underpants meets the steel bikini as Red Sonja and Conan team up again!


Man I wish I still had the money to buy comics...

Archie vs zombies? For real? Jughead's dog is dead? Sabrina has a copy of the Necromonicon? THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING!!!!


In honor of this delightful madness let's have some music!

Actually should it be this instead?

Batman vs Richie Rich? Whatever you're taking SUPER-TEAM FAMILY I want some too!


CALVIN'S CANADIAN CAVE OF COOLNESS just gave me the weirdest boner...


WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE Live! (Stay out of the Dog Park!)


And now Tom Hanks THE MOVIE!!!!


My video blog review for MESSIAH OF EVIL.

From my YOUTUBE channel