With a Jolt, My Mind Awakens…Chapter Seventy-Four: Love is a Tangled February, Charlotte…

Welcome to February, aardvarks. Take a ride on the short bus. Beware of the Creep Van (Adam: KJ’s stamp of approval on that flick!) and don’t accept licorice from werewolves. Welcome to Super Bowl weekend. Go Bronk-hawks! The cities that gave us the two most serene and stulifying seasons of MTV’s “The Real World” come to northern New Jersey. Who survives the bloodbath? Did I just describe the theme for Rob Zombie’s next Sinister Cinema Stab-a-palooza?

Ah, food for thought, eh, Squire of Stench and Systematic Upheaval? Rob Zombie has had all manner of garbage chucked at his brow for his bold ventures/re-interpretations, from miniaturized luchadors to Rihanna’s discarded eyelashes. Tell me again why we are so mad at this cavalier. If I had the might, the menace, and the muscle of Mon*Star, plus a loaf of bread for nibbling, I’d re-write the bedtime stories, too. Let the man his tomato juice if tomato juice be his rod and staff. If you’re a-feared some o’ that juice’ll stain your $35 Kelly Kapowski Urban Outfitters tee, then step to the rear of the carousel and linger with the Jason Seagulls. Oh, cripes, I gotta translate my reference: A Jason Seagull is an avian member of the Jason Segel Cult. Hunting season has begun, philistines…

Hmm. Looks like David Bowie before the Wednesday flapjacks. Go Bronk-hawks!

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