15 Minutes of Hollywood Horror

Alright, you must understand something first and foremost: I'm not into superlatives. OK, maybe I am. All the time.

Nonetheless, The Hills Have Eyes is f-ed up. So messed up that it's easily #2 on my list of Most F-ed up Movies. And it's #2 on Bova's (for those of you who don't know him - he's my roommate. My psycho roommate who lives and breathes horror movies. And that's precisely why I love living with him. No movie is too terrible) list as well. Keep in mind, these are extensive lists. What's number one? House of 1,000 Corpses. But that entire Corpses movie does not come close to "the scene" in Hills. It was by far and away the most messed up 15 minutes of movie horror. Ever.
If you've seen the first 30 minutes and cut it off/went to sleep/threw up and ran around the house crazy, read on please. There are things in here you NEED to know. If not, don't read on. You'll be lost and more importantly disgusted. You'll have nightmares. Probably talk in your sleep. For weeks. If you haven't seen it, don't rent it. Ever.

Here goes. Let me set it up for you. Watch this...
[Scene: getting dark. Airstream attached to a Suburban has flight tires - induced by nuked/alien family. Family in the middle of the desert. Stranded, with no end in sight.]

So, the Dem and Dad/Wild Bill go out in different directions, Dad towards the gas station, Dem towards the end of the "shortcut". Dem gets to dead end and finds a bunch of cars sitting in a big nuke hole and thinks that it's a cool junkyard (lots of situational irony in this movie, huh?). Meanwhile, Dad/Wild Bill gets to station and finds gas station guy in the outhouse, shotgun to his head. He blows himself up with shotgun and then you (as the audience) start hearing all of these voices in the desert. He starts aimlessly shooting his gun into the darkness, of course. Then he runs to a car, starts it up, about to drive off, and guess what: a sick nuke-dude is in backseat and smashes head in. Bye bye Dad. Or so we think....

[Back to Airstream in the middle of desert. Dark outside.]

Dem gets back from "junk yard" with some collectibles he finds in the cars (paddle ball set, teddy bear, baseball bat, you know, the essentials). Dem and wife go to Suburban to sleep, while sarah (young hottie), baby, and mom sleep in Airstream. Johnny stays up, waiting for Dad/Wild Bill to return. He then walks out to check on things outside. As he walks out of airstream, some alien dude sneaks in airstream and starts rubbing Sarah while asleep (yeah, I know, nuts). Then, all of a sudden, there's a large flame in the desert - about 100 yards out. It's Dad/Wild Bill burning to death on a stake. They all - Johnny, Dem, Dem's wife/sister, Mom - run out to desert (Mom was only one left in Airstream and didn't notice alien on Sarah) while alien-dude covers Sarah's mouths (so she won't scream). Some other alien-dude jumps down from top of Airstream (he was hiding, of course) and goes into Airstream. So, let's picture situation: 2 alien/nuke dudes in Airstram with Sarah. Johnny, Dem, Dem's wife/sister, Mom are all out in the distance, watching Dad/Wild Bill burn on a stake. One dog dead, other dog lost (or so we think...).

[Back to story....]

Alien dude #1 eats one of the parrots' head off, drinks blood then chugs gallon of milk (which, as we all know, is impossible for humans). Other alien dude #2, still carassing Sarah. Alien 1 goes over to Alien 2 and knock him off Sarah. Alien 1 does something to Sarah I don't want to say on this blog. [This scene lasts entirely too long, and made Rich and I VERY uncomfortable, more so than any other scene in any movie.] Dem's wife/older sister finally hears a scream and run back to van. At this point, Alien 1 has moved over to baby and has her in his arms. Alien 2 is back on Sarah, just carassing her while she's bleeding at the face. Dem's wife walks in. She is surprisingly calm and collected, given the situation. Alien 1 holds gun (he has Dad/Wild Bill's gun) to baby's head. Puts baby on ground, still holding gun to head. Then he proceeds to get on his knees and milk Dem's wife/sister, as she is on her knees at this point as well. Still holding gun to baby's head. Mom - who's freaking out in the desert b/c her husband just melted in front of her eyes - notices both daughters gone and something moving in van so she runs over and walks in with a rock ready to strike. She's not that calm, given the situation. Probably should've taken a lesson from Dem's wife. She lifts rock to strike and Alien 1 shoots her in stomach. Dem's wife grabs a screw driver and sticks in Alien 1's leg. Alien 1 then shoots her in head. Blood everywhere, baby screaming, Sarah, well, she's never gonna be the same again.
Johnny and Dem hear noise, run back to airstream. As they're running back, Alien 1 and Alien 2 skimper off. Sarah is outside airstream and Johnny quickly consoles her outside. Dem walks in, sees dead wife, dying mother-in-law and his baby missing. Yep, that's right, they ran off with baby.

So who lives?

The Dem (who turns "tough-guy" repub and kicks alien ass), the baby, Johnny and Sarah (sort of) and dog #2 (he's another story for another day).

Don't ever rent it. Don't ever watch it. Don't ever think about it. Don't ever read this post again.

K
T

Pet Brandy

If you're in the neighborhood of Lombardy Ave, stop in and pet Brandy. She's lonely.
And she's so lazy right now, she weighs about 100 lbs, making her head look deformed. You can make a difference in minimizing it.

All Dogs go to Heaven

No child wants to hear it. No adult wants to tell it. No one wants to experience it.

"He's going on vacation for a while..." Or "we're taking him away to a better home..." Maybe it's "he's going to play with Uncle Will's dogs..." Or "she'll be back in a few weeks...." When you're older... "we're putting her to sleep."

For me... "we put Bonnie down."

She's sick. Too much pain. Can't walk. Can't talk. Can't play. Can't live.
That's how I heard it last week.

My older brother Michael called to tell me. I was alone heading home from work, on the Metro-North train, passing by the Wakefield stop. Older lady with iPod white earphones in, sitting two seats to my right, staring out the window.

If you're like me, you remember these times. The time they put down Chief. The time Lizzie died. The time your black lab couldn't go any further. They're deep in your memory. Vivid. Telling.
When I was around 6 years old, I first heard. And now remember.
My older brother Michael and I were lounging around on the couch in our house on Iroquois Street. I was probably sipping some lemonade. My brother, Coke. Always Coke. He was wearing that royal blue Sigma Chi fraternity shirt. Ole Miss. One of those soft ones you never want to lose or retire. Was my older cousin's. Now Michael's. Boy, did I want it to be mine.
Dad comes in the room and tells us to get up and come outside to the garage. We follow him. Slowly. Like kids who just two hours ago threw mud pies at passing cars.
This time we weren't in trouble. Someone else was.
He has Chief, our 60 pound English bulldog, reclining in the back seat of his '87 Mercedes Benz - one of those old Diesel ones.
Once we're out there near the car and see our 13 year-old bulldog breathing heavily in the car, dad tells us that "Chief's going away for awhile."
"When's he coming back?"
"I'm not too sure," he mumbles as he assuredly lights up his menthol light.
"Well, ok, goodbye Chief. See you next week."
Never did see him the next week. Or the next. Or the one after that.

That's when I knew. And that's when I saw it, but didn't even know I could see it.

Last Thursday was the first time in my life I actually saw it. Now I know it. Know it more than I'd like to.
I arrived home late Thursday night/early Friday morning to let Bonnie and Brandy my golden retriever out for a kennel break. Bonnie stayed back. Hmmm... that tired? Maybe. So I went up to talk to her and stroke her black coat to coax her outside in the 95 degree night heat. Because that's what we did sometimes - coax them outside in the heat and rain. And there it was. I could see it. I stared at it. It stared right back. Right then I knew. Bonnie knew. And she knew I knew. There was nothing that would stop it.

It's a funny thing that something like that can make you weep so heavily. Human death is no comparison in magnitude or effect. Similar in disconnect and ultimacy. Yes. But different in effect. We weep for our sleeping pets. We weep for the loss of our "best friend." A best friend who's never wronged you, spoken spitefully about you, never left you and most of all, never stopped loving you. We're human to weep for this. We're normal to crave this love. So much so that we even "replace" our best friend with another. You see, plenty of people "replace" their pet. But not this time. No one replaces Bonnie.

She had the thirteen year history of a great dame. Presumably named after her owner Michael's high school crush. Skilled in stealth tactics. Trained in ball hunting. Armed with a nose as big as C.D. Bales. She bumrushed (and sometimes outsmarted) Tempe from Day 1. No one outsmarts Tempe. She ate the kitchen. Not just the food or the chair legs or the rubbermaids, but the whole damn kitchen. She had the long jump skills of a doping Carl Lewis. Tennis balls were her perma-toys.
Some of you loved her because she was smart. Athletic. Calm. Yet energetic. She had emotion. She was affectionate. She loved.
Some of you may have loathed her. She ate your Krystal burgers. She buried her nose in your lap until you petted her 30 straight minutes. She crapped in the driveway. She dropped the withered tennis ball at your feet 64 times in a row. You had to feed her the pills.

Like or dislike, Bonnie was unique. Bonnie loved. She thought. She felt. She faced it fearlessly.
But I ask, is "it" really death? Do dogs die? No one likes to think so. I don't. I think it's peace. Happiness. Bacon bits. Cleanliness. A never-ending bowl of dog biscuits. Puppy breath. Eternity with Chief and Lizzie and probably your dog. Water. Dirt. Tennis Balls. Dogs. It's more days to come with her sister, Brandy. Heaven. Because that's where they go, right? Heaven.

KT