Top 50 Trash Horror Films of the 1980's: #10-6

As we wind this down, I do want to share a bit of levity as we finally get a break: The Big Scoop and her friends are (so they say) making a "movie."  I asked of its plot, and was told "it's about an evil cult that murders people."  Well, well.  Considering her age, she's way past where I was at that time...

For those of you finding this randomly:

#50-#46

#45-#41

#40-#36

#35-#31

#30-#26

#25-#21

#20-#16

#15-#11

#10 - Hallucinations (1986)

Back of the VHS box: None found or (possibly) made

Oh that VHS audio feed...even on just black, you can hear it loud and clear.  You could even say this video, being from the 80s, has computer graphics...inasmuch that's a computer screen showing the titles.

I don't know if this was made in the Midwest, but it has quite a few touchstones: snow on the lens, trouble with the snowplow, mouth-breathing, foam snow boots, Afghan blankets on the chairs and couches, and fake vomit.  It also has the classic VHS lens flair from lamps, silhouette portraits, rotary phones, uneven audio, and ketchup-as-blood.

It's good, I suppose, knowing there are like-minded people to your interests, but I also felt like I was watching outtakes of one of our homemade videos from the 90s.  If you made your own at any point, there's nothing here you haven't done yourself.  If not, up to you if you want to see what people did with their time back then...

#9 - The Long Island Cannibal Massacre (1980)

Back of the VHS box: None found or (possibly) made

The is the lone title so far that has sadly eluded me in a way that is fiscally responsible.  Do I want to spend $20 on a DVD?  Perhaps, after I've seen it.  I'll update this page once this is viewed.

#8 - Burial Ground (1981)

Back of the VHS box: The Earth Shall Tremble, graves shall open.  They shall come among the living as messengers of death.  And there shall be the nights of terror...an excursion into the twilight world of the undead.  A chilling, brutal slice of horror.  There's no escape from The Nights of Terror (the alternate title - ed.) And only the living will scream.

Mama Mia!  Horror Italiano!  Who says you can't use a Take Five rip-off during opening credits?

"Didn't you like my little show?"

"You look just like a little whore.  But I like that."

"You're turning into a great little model."

"Well, then I deserve a raise in pay."

"You're getting a raise from me, all right, but it has nothing to do with money!"

The old "innards grab bag"

Apparently, only in Italy do they

1) have mothers who, when walked in on by their son, grab their clothing but don't put it on

2) use a museum's storage room as a gun range

3) have zombies with living skin on their hands and, on occasion, their head

4) question zombies as you would someone coming up to you randomly on the street

5) attempt to kill zombies with a pitchfork by hitting them over the head, or using it to "joust"

...and repeat.  Stretched out to last as long as it does, even containing a few "wait, that shot should have been 5 seconds later" moments, there was one thing that impressed me.  I know I/we discuss gore effects often in these reviews, but they did an amazing shot in the first 1/3rd of the movie of a zombie coming out of the ground that was sensational.  I don't recommend this one, but don't want to give away that bit, either.

#7 - Things (1989)

Back of the VHS box: I only found the front...but the re-release DVDs doesn't make me optimistic.

What do you get when you put Super 8, all Casio instruments, Introduction to Film I and II, VHS player editing, moments where you're sure the "filmmakers" had no idea what they were doing but did it anyway just to get it done, driving shots that made it look like Morris & the Rookie had an actual car mount, dialogue repeated because no one remembered it was already said, cue cards, non-sensical gore, and dubbing worse than any film that's NOT in English?  What I just listed is a lot of things; now you don't need to see Things.

#6 - Basket Case (1982)

Back of the VHS box: In the quaint town of Glens Falls, a very nervous Dr. Lifflander is suddenly attached by...well...something.  Something very small, misshapen, and very mad.  Something with a swollen, claw-like hand which rips the good doctor's face off.

BASKET CASE is about a young man who was born with a Siamese twin attached to his side.  At an early age, the monstrous twin was surgically removed, but lived to deeply resent his cut-off day.  His normal looking brother goes to New York, carrying a large basket wherever he goes.  In the basket is the hideous twin.  Neither brother can rest until they avenge their surgical separation by killing the doctors responsible.

A critically acclaimed horror classic, Rex Reed says, "BASKET CASE is the sickest movie I've ever seen."  The San Francisco Chronicle calls it "A rare picnic for horror fans."  It is a rare find in the tradition of ERASERHEAD and TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE, you'll want to see it over and over again.

Well, this was a very pleasant surprise.  Considering the plot, it is, at times, a slow-paced movie, but don't take that the wrong way - there are no wasted shots.  The set dressing, thankfully, is provided by New York City in 1981.  (What do you want bet that, after filming scenes with "blood" splattered everywhere, that they just left it there and no one then or in the future batted an eye?)  Plus, even if it's a throwaway character - The Bag Lady!

You just don't see The Bag Lady around anymore.  I remember on old Late Night episodes, Dave would mention them now and again and, upon arriving in Boston for school, they were always, slowly, on the streets.  Perhaps a product of time and place.

(pouring wine)

Man: Listen, if I have any more, I'm liable...liable to-

Dr. Cutter: That's all right, I like you drunk.  You're cute when you slobber.

(Phone rings)

Dr: Cutter: SHIT.

As with many films on this list, it's a no-star cast, but that doesn't matter if they give it their all and are eager to please.  Trust me, this film is ridiculous in all the right parts.

Practical effects!  Besides, when do you ever see the creature go insane?!  Not against a person, but against its own lot in life?  There's even stop motion!  This movie has it all.  By the way - how many times, in a low moment, have you found yourself sitting in a similar position, hashing out recent life choices?

The 3rd act flashbacks slow the film down, but they aren't bad.  Besides, we all get back to it in time.  

Hang in there, baby!  This film shows what happens when you go for it and things just work out.  Strong recommendation.  Seeing this film renewed my faith in hitting the finish line!

It's coming for us all

After turning on to Palisades Drive from Sunset, once you pass one of the swankier mini-malls you'll ever see, your vision almost turned into a jungle.  The twisting & turning of the road was only matched by the greenery that surrounded you.  The first time I took this drive with the woman formally known as Smiley she said, "I call this drive Jurassic Park", and it was obvious to see why.  (It's a phrase she continues to use for years and years, forgetting that I'd already heard this roughly 25-30 times) Suddenly in your view were townhomes on your right, and, it seemed, even more as you drove north.

At one of the events at their home, I asked her uncle how he ended up there.  In the early 80's, he had a home in Cheviot Hills and, maybe it was in a divorce or something, I didn't pry, but he met a contractor who was putting 'em up in this discovered pocket of Pacific Palisades land.  "He said 'I have 1 left - you want to take a look?'"  He smiled.  He liked the weather and amenities.  I asked him if it ever bothered him - the one way in & out vibe of the neighborhood.  He smiled again and shrugged his shoulders.

Years later, one time I was helping him get out a table in the storage room.  I'd never been in there, but there was a lot of "stuff" in there.  When I commented as such, he chuckled and said, "One day, it'll all be yours."  Whatever that is in there: memories, items needed, items not needed, or burdens.  

He passed away last Fall - her aunt said, "He told me 'I'm going to die in this house.'"  If he only knew.

Another way to go there was to get off at Sunset and wind your way there - it was usually faster than going along the PCH, but that didn't make it any easier.  It certainly didn't seem fast, or faster, or particularly easy to drive.  After passing Riviera, the streets and topography change almost each minute.  A high school with unbelievable views.  Streets sneak up to Sunset, and then sneak away, hidden to privacy.  There was a "downtown" strip along Sunset with all needed stores, including a fire station.    

Since his passing, in these new unknown days, her aunt met a family new to her complex that has a daughter near the age of The Big Scoop.  One such meeting worked well, so we agreed to start the new year with a meet-up and dinner.  We decided to meet at a park off Sunset and walk a new trail - the plan for this trail was, in the new year, to build a walking bridge over to Will Rogers State Beach.

As we wandered back to the park, we passed many cliffside homes facing south with views of the ocean, the Santa Monica Pier, and the rest of the coast.  We "claimed" many of them for our own.  It was a fun night for all with unplanned hilarity.  We said we'd try to do it again soon, maybe before the Super Bowl.

Luckily, the kids were in school.  Luckily, the parents were at work.  Luckily, the aunt had errands to run in Santa Monica.  On a day like I just wrote of above, one maybe 2 weeks ago now, everyone was home.   Luckily, not that day.

After school that day, our attempts to get in touch with everyone mildly successful, another fire begins in Altadena, this one spreading east and west.  West is what we're worried about.  The following day, a fire starts in the Hollywood hills.  I begin to get a suitcase ready and while the female members of this household squawk, all needed docs are handy.  If this continues sloping north, we'll likely get the notice to leave.

So, if you're supposed to evacuate, or at least get ready: To where?  Which direction?  How far?  How long?  This isn't a hurricane, arriving on one side, going in one direction.  We also don't see these coming days in advance.  This isn't a tornado, with a siren saying "YOU - BASEMENT".  A co-worker of Smiley who lives with her family in north Pasadena just grabbed what they could and took off to Arizona.  It can't catch them.

The fire in Hollywood is thankfully put out less than 24 hours later.  Had it been first, it might've been worse.  School is cancelled the rest of the week, and I attempt to stay calm in front of the Scoop. Things remain "steady" inasmuch as there are no new major fires and those already going are slowly increasing containment.  All of the family has been in touch looking for info.  The co-workers (all in other parts of the country) lend support.  Some out of state friends have as well, too.  Then again, maybe not: from Bloomington, a financial planner asks me how the new year is treating me and if I'm interested in turning a 401k into a Roth IRA.  Another text, seemingly from Potsy, sends a link to the Santa Anita racetrack being closed.  Hey, thanks for checking in!

Nights don't lead to much sleep, at least not to me.  When the Eaton fire started, I think I slept 1 hour, riding the 3rd rail.  Night 2, with whatever was going with the Hollywood fire, the same, then a little more.  The mind starting to play tricks: do you smell that?  Is that smoke?  Are we OK?  Is that a siren?  Was that her voice?  My heart begins to pound.

Saved for the study of time are the weather forecasts from Sunday the 5th.  Wind speeds are mentioned.  "Possibilities" are mentioned.  The weathermen and women are going through the motions.  Glib might not be the right word, and they're not psychic, but it is an air of "keep an eye on this, you know" and that's it.  That's the forecast, back to you (forced laughs). 

The weekend was normal enough in that they showed NFL playoff games on Sunday while warning of more Santa Ana winds, labeled "typically bad" (not "a wildfire fucks a tornado") for Tuesday & Wednesday.  My next-door neighbor, a native of Burbank and longtime animation director, figures now would be a good time to get dinner on the grill.  In cover of darkness, my other neighbor and I begin freaking the fuck out because everywhere smells of smoke.  The offender's wife texts "oh, he's making dinner."  Our responses of the politest way possible to say "are you a fucking moron?" are not granted a response.

As I type this, at least near me, the crazy winds never showed up this week.  Oh sure, from time to time it smells like the innards of a chimney even though the skies are pretty clear and there's no wind at all.  High humidity the forecast for the weekend, thankfully, until next week, where humidity will seemingly disappear (without the wind, I guess?) and we start all over again.

One of the things we read is that these homes now lost were that family's retirement, that this real estate, on the rise except when it's not, would pay for that family's end times.  Now, they still have that land...but nowhere to go, and the expenses therein.  In an area growing in population and not much inventory, the problem is only worse.  But bring it back - the home will pay for all of that in the future.  Now maybe you live somewhere that is of some interest to others, so that your home, even if it could be a teardown, will hold such strong value it'll be the big score.  Maybe it's someone's 10th choice in town, but a house all the same.  Over time, the likelihood of inflation and time passing, you'll make something for those old days, right?       

You need to keep that in mind as the future goes, because it's coming.  It might be wildfires or an earthquake here, an Insane-o hurricane or tropical storm in the south and east, a spaceship of a tornado in the midwest.  

(Oh, it SNOWED?  What a problem!)

It's coming, and hopefully you can prepare.  Your future, whatever payday you think you'll receive because you added a deck, is completely up in the air.  That's what is making the ultimate decision.  Might not be affecting you now, but it'll be the effects that you'll get, and you might or might not notice it.  But it'll come, it's all you can do to get through it, and if there's any comfort, you'll know you're not alone.  You're not alone where you are, and you're not alone because someone, somewhere else is next up.

Dealmaking Today

I arrived on-time at this swanky eatery in Beverly Hills, but then again, one would expect that.  My old stomping grounds, but this was all scouted ahead of time.  I'm here to make deals.  

Look, I'm ready to discuss the security measures of biometric authentication in relation to my analytic needs.  I'm here to stress that the output must meet my need for utter consistency in reporting.  But that's cut and dry.  That's simply the facts and honestly, I wouldn't even want to sit anywhere, not just here, and listen to those details.  That isn't dealmaking.

My surroundings have led me to pass along the do's and dont's of this deal so that others (not necessarily you, dear reader) don't make the screw ups I witnessed others heartily do during that morning's event.  That the deal had to be so early in the day wasn't what I would have chosen at all, but it just means you have to deal further.  

First, as I did, arrive on time.  If you don't, you're already at a disadvantage.  You'll then have to begin with apologies and will likely pay for the meal.  If you weren't planning on doing that, well, don't show up late.  I'll be pleased with the breakfast treat you get as a result...surprised, frankly, because I wasn't expecting this.  A tasty apology accepted.

Knowing your history helps with small talk, be it recent or decades ago.  I don't always like the small talk, but I've found knowing the history helps draw out nutty anecdotes, and I'd much rather hear about a crazy sales trip in Virginia Beach in 2002 than I would overhear the next table over talk about...whatever they're talking about.  

We've all seen the harried assistant arriving with obnoxiously large breakfast orders.  Thankfully, I never had to do that, but I remember those days.  But try not to act like an asshole when you're in the throes of your life choices.  In the wise words of Tony Manero "everybody's dump-dumping on everybody."  The entire restaurant will be pleased when you leave.

Have something unexpected to throw out in conversation.  I wouldn't call this news, but during the duration of this deal, that I knew Northwestern played half its football games this season in a park off Lake Michigan, that the old brown swanky shades were Foster Grant's, the nickname of Stetson University, and the name of a long-gone cable channel were all in my favor.   

This is the dance, and it is done.  There's the right way, and then there's all the way.  Unfortunately, the majority of America decided it wanted to return to an "I got mine, you get yours" economy.  I'll have to keep making deals.  A fresh peach tart on me: we aim for the future.

No tricks, all treats, another ring

World Champions?!  I can't believe it!  World Champions!  You say "you had the best record in the league - what do you mean 'I can't believe it'" - I just...(shakes head)

(Whoa - 1 blog post the day after another, what is this, the 2000s?)

OK, well let's go back to the 2000s.  As you watched that decade end, and if you watched the Dodgers into the next decade, one with a team slowly getting better and then oh so close in the playoffs, and woeful managers, losing more 1-run games than you can remember, you'll just have to believe me: I NEVER and I repeat NEVER thought in my life I'd hear the phrase "the strength of the Dodgers is their bullpen."  The very phrase "thank Christ it's over" replaced the baseball phrase "save" for this very reason.  If you are winning by 5 runs in the 9th and win the game by 1, that should not be listed as a "save."  That is "thank Christ it's over" because of the clown car in the outfield that seemingly would get dizzy for 7 innings and then show up to serve balloons to the other team.

And I said woeful managers because we'd get so close to the World Series and then just...but then that hurdle was crossed.  And once we were cheated, yes, we all know that.  But the following year we returned, and we were playing a better team, but we had a chance to even things and said manager gave it all away.  But 2020 comes around, a weirdo baseball season, and a championship is won!  It might have been won because the other manager was worse but that's not our fault, is it?

Anyone who is a Dodger fan celebrated and remembered that 2020 championship.  Then there's the brainworm crowd, who labeled that "a Mickey Mouse championship" (don't know what that means, but OK) "didn't count" (like your last weigh-in, I'm sure), "fraud" (you're thinking of something else you got wrong in 2020) and on the list goes.  We swatted these comments away like one would a fly, and even when we went back to a "regular" season (one with "vaccinated sections") it was a good run, no complaints.  Besides, we just won it all last year.

2022 was a return to the ground with the same "curious" managing calls while San Diego (a team that's 80% mouth, 20% skill) won and wouldn't shut up about doing so.  The next year followed with a sensational diaper-filling against Arizona, grim faces abound.  "He doesn't know how to get the team ready for the playoffs" was the refrain.  It was smiles and dances in August as you beat Colorado in a meaningless game.  As seasons wear on, and the costs to watch the regular season games prohibitive, I looked from afar.  Again, working on dialing it back...why go all in, especially if the diaper will be filled so quickly?  We'll see, sure, but...

A-Roid said last night "can you believe some people wanted Dave Robers fired?"  Yeah, I can.  Do you watch Captain Hook?  "If we have that many pitchers on our roster, why not use 'em all?  I mean, every game, why not?" Dave thought.  That's one reason, Roid Freak.  Another would be just a few weeks ago we faced an elimination game and because nearly all starters were burned out or injured (Mark Prior, pitching coach, someone who should abso-fucking-lutely know about saving your arm from injury and not overdoing it and pacing yourself, I'm fucking looking at you) Dave said "well, ok, Bullpen Game."  What the hell?!

The Dodgers won that game 8-0.  Here's how the Bullpen Game went:

That's 8 pitchers in 9 innings, 7 hits, no runs, 8 strikeouts.  That went perfectly.  That's a word that is used often, maybe too much, but it was perfect.  Again, you've watched a team for years and years have a shit bullpen, no one you ever really felt you could count on, and...my god man.

The series clincher, a 2-0 grinder, got the shit monkey off of Dave's (and everyone else's) back.  Once that happened, well, bring it on.  The bullpen is winning games, at least 1 star play is showing up each game and Tommy Edman out of nowhere is Babe Ruth.  And then here it is - a World Series?  Against the Yankees?!  

It's clinched in the Bronx, like in '81.  When we had Nando.  The tale is written in history, and its future is so done.

San Fernando, we do this for you.  We look skyward as you used to when you pitched.  Coming together, fighting back, for you.  Freddie Freeman and his Paul Bunyan Balls, he sends pitches screaming out of the yard.  Otani can damn near tear his shoulder, but he's not sitting anything out.  The team turns at-bats into marathons.  They leg out ground balls because who knows, someone might forget to cover 1st base.  They run out fly balls because someone just might drop the thing.  

For myself, and to the world, I need to let something go.  I need to accept something and just get it out, and that is that.  

(Begins playing "Chariots of Pumpkins" from the Halloween III soundtrack)

Dave Roberts, manager, has won 2 World Series for the Dodgers.  Could and should the team have won more?  Probably, but shoulda, coulda, woulda.  This ends the talk, at least from me.  He's shut me up.  He went to the mound last night and put his chips in on the bullpen, specifically Blake Treinen.  It worked again.  I exalted.  Last night, the team, the organization, its fans all celebrated a championship.  Dave, however, was the winner.  My worn-out Dodger cap is tipped to him.  My mouth, for you Dave, forever closed.  

I can open it to finish the champagne with OJ this morning, right?  Why waste it?

Top 50 Trash Horror Films of the 1980's: #15-11

Not only are we entering the shank of horror viewing in a calendar year (though, to be fair, any time is the right time), but we are also entering even more known (and theatrical) titles.  This won't slow me down, of course.  For those of you finding this randomly:

#50-#46

#45-#41

#40-#36

#35-#31

#30-#26

#25-#21

#20-#16

#15 - The Slumber Party Massacre (1982)

Poster of Theatrical Release: Close your eyes for a second...and sleep forever.

Since this is a theatrical film, I won't go as in-depth with this one.  I think I saw it decades ago but had little memory of it.  I thought it was all right.  I liked how much of Mar Vista we see - makes me miss the old bowling alley and diner I used to hit all the time.

"I've got some provisions for the party tonight!"

"What are provisions?"

"You know, Doritos, No-Doz, Bennies, Crystal Meth."

#14 - Don't Panic (1987)

Back of VHS box: Don't PANIC...a terrifying journey into a forbidden world.  And for two young people it is a journey that will twist and scar their minds forever.  The powers of darkness gather, and nothing can stop the orgy of devastation they will unleash.  Evil satanic rites.  Human sacrifice.  The ancient secrets of the occult.  And as their fear reaches its shattering climax, the horrifying final blow is delivered.  Don't PANIC...pure evil.

We often bemoan, and rightly so, how Saturday Night Live has devolved into a show where everything is shot like a police line-up, with people reading straight into a cue card.  Now imagine this with people who clearly lack acting experience.  Add the story moving with the subtlety of a frying pan to the face.  

There've been a LOT of movies with a Quiji board as part of the plot, or even the main focus of a movie.  There will be more in the future, I'd wager.  This is one of them.  I will give bonus points for the bit early on where Michael is on his BMX bike & jumps into a bike rack, knocking all of them over while an 80s guitar riff plays.

To quote Donovan Brandt, "Everybody likes movies.  That's why it's a great thing to talk about.  'I love that movie!'  'Oh, I didn't like that.'"  I know this is all subjective, but how did this end up so high on the list?

#13 - Frozen Scream (made in the 70s, home video companies said 1980, 1981, or 1983)

Back of VHS box: (Only found re-releases that dump on its quality...the original scan from the early 80s was illegible)

It's all here - multiple narrators, 16mm, re-purposed synth, voiceover acting to match foreign learning language cassettes, pacing that matches southern California traffic.  This is the kind of shit Mike & I would find at video stores and rent on VHS box alone...we'd goof on it, likely only watch half of it, maybe think about re-using a clip on Night by Night and then cue up the next one.  

"Judgement Day!  Time to pay your dues!"

#12 - Don't Go in the Woods (1981)

Back of VHS box: Four young campers, Craig, Peter, Ingrid and Joannie, back-pack through the mountains for a relaxing weekend in the wilderness.  They enter a forest which becomes denser and darker as they progress.  Peter and Ingrid fear they are lost.  The brush moves and something is there.  Suddenly a large form rushes toward.  A wide machete gleaming in the light falls fast.  Craig slops dead to the ground.  Peter and the others flee screaming into the forest.  The rest of the day and terrifying night is spent running and hiding from the maniac murderer who is constantly in pursuit.

Again, we goof on VHS boxes written by people who clearly haven't seen the movie, and there are those who just give the whole damn thing away.

Well, how about this?  The cooper black font.  The swanky synth.  The no-star cast (as I've mentioned in other reviews) getting separation:

Oh, I'm sorry: everyone gets called out?!

The dirty film transfer!  The vertigo-inducing "cinematography."  The "maybe on purpose, maybe not" stunts.  The totally random edits.  The come and go characters.  

Synth sound effects for wolf howls.  A wooden train whistle toy signifying a "train" nearby.  Moog sounds to lighten the mood.

People talking over each other.  No inflection in dialogue.  Someone roller-skating on uneven pavement.

"Be careful, Dick!"

"Dick?  Dick?!"

It's dusk, it's midnight, it's sunset, it's daytime, it's morning...all within 10 seconds.  Sped-up film.  A chase scene in a field nowhere near where the previous scene was filmed.  Having a "score to settle" with a fellow camper and then doing so by closing them in a sleeping bag up a tree for a human pinata.

Let me make it plain: this is a bad movie.  It's awful, but it's not trying to be as bad as it is - it just fails at each and every decision.  Yowzer.  This is the kind of film that belongs on this list.  What a dizzy movie.  Seriously, I'm going outside for a walk after this one.  

#11 - Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)

Poster of Theatrical Release: You've made it through Halloween.  Now try and survive Christmas.

We all know this one - as a matter of fact, I remember seeing a screening at the New Beverly long ago with director Charles Sellier in the audience.  I wrote about it somewhere - I thought here, but I guess not.  The movie itself is its own thing: it is going for the shocks in many different ways, pretty much delivering on all of them under the guise of a horror plot.  So much of what Sellier said that night, burned into my brain, is all on the Wikipedia page, so I won't bother re-hashing it here.  However, one thing that stayed with me that isn't mentioned is an anecdote that Sellier told (and it's possible I could be applying this to another film, but I don't think so): 

(SPOILERS)

Sellier is at either a preview screening or an actual screening on that lone weekend in theaters to get the feeling of the audience reaction.  So, we know the scene where Billy finds the young couple in bed and takes care of them, you have a little girl, Cindy, who is apparently also in the house and comes out of her room awake.  As Billy asks Cindy if she's been naughty or nice, a woman stood up and yelled "IF HE KILLS THAT GIRL, I'M WALKIN' OUT THIS THEATER!"  Charles put his head in his hand.  "What have I done?!" he thought to himself.  This anecdote brought a hearty laugh to those of us at the New Beverly ~ 20 years ago.  I'm sure it made him laugh too, looking back at it.  But at the time, and all the shit he had to deal with it, I can't help but think that was an all too real, 100% honest reaction.  Whatever the intentions were for the movie, for him and his career, and then the response is...well, what it was...how else can you respond but with "what have I done?!"  

It's from Tri-Star.  A theatrical production.  Is it trash?  I guess, but for something that made such a mainstream reaction, for better or (as it turned out for them) much worse, it doesn't really feel like it belongs on this list.  

I'm almost done with this list.  I'm also going insane.  I just want you to know I'm aware of it.

Dining with Darvez

Welcome back!  In quite the twist of fate / junk kick, the fridge in the kitchen (full of food) decided to die on Labor Day just before we began a triple-digit heat wave.  This means we'll be dining out due to electronic necessity on a nearly constant basis.  What's worked?

We foolishly thought this could be repaired, but in today's disposable world, the ends didn't justify the means, so any suggestions were welcome.  We started with a neighborhood spot, and my choice on a warm evening was a house side salad that came with a roll.  I was content with the sal.  It was my choice.  "That's all you're gonna get?" I was asked.  What the hell do you care?

The following day, I tried to snack my way through all non-perishable items, and I flashbacked to college, attempting to make a "meal" around whatever was around.  If I was close to full, regardless of what it was, well...mission accomplished.  Pistachios, cheese and crackers (the cheese saved in the beer fridge) and an apple sufficed.  This isn't far from my typical lunch anyway, but I also knew I couldn't do this for much longer.

An early and successful choice for dinner was a local Columbian restaurant which is sensational on all fronts.  Lately, despite my attempts to try all the entrees that interest me on the menu, I returned to the Pollo en Salsa Verde.  No, it's not an exclusively Columbian dish, but many Columbian dishes at this location include carrots which, as we know, are the enemy.  Besides, they have an extensive "fast food" menu, one the Big Scoop has chosen since we've moved here and the burgers & chicken sandos are top notch.  After a stressful day revealing the realities where I actually had to, again, defend the li'l beer fridge in the garage having (what I was told was) "too much beer", I shoveled it away happily, ignoring most conversation.  It wasn't aimed or geared towards me anyway.  

The prices are adding up, and the new fridges won't arrive until the following Tuesday (for fuck's sake...) so I started to think about how I could go out and get something cheap.  I didn't say delicious and inexpensive, so in my strive for just that, I tried to rationalize a Jr. Whopper with cheese.  About halfway through, I gave the rest to the dog.  What am I doing?!  Sandwiches became my life for lunch as the week ended as the temps crossed 105 daily.  The Sub Marine King himself shared his plight as I waited for the order.  105 outside means life isn't fun inside a kitchen, he intimated, even if we're all ordering cold sandos and cups of ice to hold up to our heads.

Friday, I went to the supermarket, looking longingly at items I couldn't purchase because I had no way to store them, ordering a meat n potatoes meal with green beans just to eat something square even though I was on my own food endurance run at this point.  A nightfall where it was a "cool" 97 brought a local pizza place where fans were going a plenty.  This place, too, confirms that temps that hot next to ovens are not enjoyable for the employees.  The Big Scoop and I overate salad because...fuck, I don't know anymore.  I don't...why am I doing any of this?! 

By college football Saturday, I stayed cool with the sangria (it's a beer fridge, so it gets priority) as we all rooted on Northern Illinois like any other good citizen.  I tried to assimilate the changes to my preferred surroundings, but how many god damned sandwiches can a man put away?  Should put away?!

By Sunday morning (you didn't see the sun was up, you felt it) a deviation was suggested, so overpriced empanadas did the trick.  Upon picking up the order under the glare of Mr. Sun, the kitchen help at this establishment also concurred that sitting by an oven, as a restaurant's AC does its damndest, is not preferrable either.  I'm sensing a trend.

That evening, as I tried to save what plants and trees I could (you can't water in the dark if you can't see, but if it's hotter than shit when the sun is up, too, well you're just fucked either way aren't you?) I was told she was making dinner.  As sweat poured over me, I gasped out a "fine."  I don't know that there was enough time in-between these chores and eating, and my body continued to pay for it the following day.

The new week started with some depression - I knew it was the last full day of this predicament, but it just seemed unending.  That and it was 106 outside.  I don't even remember if I ate anything during the day; just mainlining anything cold to drink, admittedly short with anyone who dared to press me with unneeded questions.  Yap yap yap.  It's fucking hot as shit.  WHAT.

The statistic is that kids make 80% of the decisions on where to eat once the parents make the decision to go out to eat.  I cared but was too weak to put up a fight.  I didn't fight where we sat in a Mediterranean restaurant that hits more than it misses, and there we were next to a couple and their young boy.  We might as well have been eating in their apartment, because this annoying fucking kid was doing all the annoying-ass things loopy parents let their kids do in public.  (An aside- once at a casual Beverly Hills eatery, a couple who thought it was a good idea for them to spawn let their offspring scream over and over without putting up a fight.  When they finally left and were near the door, the entire restaurant broke into a thunderous applause.)  By this point, I had crossed the dividing line - I ignored usual politeness, shoveled it away, kept the iced tea flowing, and let the one-liners loose because I had little left and all that was in the tank were the zingers I've kept in reserves so that MY offspring doesn't misuse the skill.  Look at me - I can't even compare restaurant experiences.  I'm worn out.  This is not a comparison done in frivolity but in desperation, and my ability to pretend is over.

And so, yesterday, when it was "only" 95, 2 no-nonsense guys arrived with new fridges.  I offered help, but also offered to stay out of their way.  Not everything was as easy as they claimed, but maybe if felt that way to them when you do what they do, I guess.  Things are cold.  So, finally, are the temps outside.  So is my temperament, or at least its trending that way.  And looking back, maybe it's my emotion making this a bigger deal than it was, but I'm not sure.  Maybe it was someone asking me "what are we gonna do?" over and over on a daily basis that did it.  Or the heat?  I'll need to get my strength up if I'm going to party again, but how?  Only my future knows that, and it's insisting I find out for myself.

Incongruous with the rest of us

Yesterday, while I quietly mainlined Riunite, questions were answered by regaling tales of decades ago.  Only the good times from then, those old days.  This sent the Big Scoop and I to google maps, which then sent me to discover the public access archives from Bloomington.  Yes, such a library exists.  It doesn't contain everything (whatever that is), but enough to send my mind spinning back decades, and further neighborhood hunting.

But what am I looking for, exactly?  What am I searching for in my mind?  The last time I was physically there, I wrote how pleasing it is to find something that still stands from back then to assist in jogging the memories.  Last night, however, I didn't need to be there to make it happen.  I suppose that will be the ultimate verdict.  That (Covid notwithstanding) it's been 5 years since a visit, and if I really needed a score, I'd have been back since.  And in that prose from 5 years ago I realized, for better and worse, "those days" don't exist anymore - and that's fine.  

We have friends who moved next door to where one lived in his formative years, at least in MN.  That's a bridge too far for me, but I understand the pull.  I can also see that, for likely 6-7 months of the year, if I pulled such a stunt, I'd be insufferable; always in a foul mood about weather.  It was one driver to out here, and we're nearing a quarter century in Dealville.  The majority of my full life.

A rep visits the house today to pick up electronics.  He's visiting from NYC.  What do you think?  How's it been?  "I love it!"  In the brief chat, he exalted on the weather (dry heat), the food (it's all here), the people ("great").  After he left, I mulled over his statements and agreed.  It's why you move when you can, to where you want, and can do so again and again.  If anybody considers you an outsider or non-native, whether new to the area or even decades later, fuck 'em.  

In the Haze-E-Daze of summer vaca, the Scoop reiterated again about her large reluctance to travel.  "I love this house!  I want to live here my whole life!"  I was taken aback.  "Well, sweetie of course you're welcome any time you want to visit.  But--"  She then added more news from the future: "By that point, mom will be in a senior living home, so it'll be even better!"

Zinger aside, it made me realize that she's starting to get those feelings in the moment the same way I did back in the said "old days."  Will she have her own pull back, mentally or otherwise?  There's no Dealville back there, that's for sure.  Many times, I've opined to Laura how amazing it must have been to grow up out here, but she doesn't know any difference.  She, too, will occasionally want to go to Bel Air, usually when we're nearby on our way home, to see the house of her youth.  You can't see much from street level there, and those winding streets leave little room to park.  When she wants to go, we're all supposed to go.  I've seen it; that's enough for me.  I've long since stopped asking her, while in MN, if she wants to go to my old place.  It's a selfish exercise to me, holding next to no meaning to her.  

Decades from now, will the Scoop be sitting where I am right now?  Will I be here?  Or will we swing by on a visit, walking around, with her bringing up these very days?  Then, like now, the excitement and possibilities of the future awaits.