With a Jolt, My Mind Awakens…Chapter Ninety-Five: The Last Year of the Lou Albano Look

1995 was the last time I was able to braid my infamous facial hair, subjugating the structure into facial follicle art with leftover orthodontic rubber bands. A summer job in a defunct “intellectual” toy store called for a trim of the whiskers, and the goat never restored itself to full-blown dark-black-stink-netherworld-tentacled glory. Captain Lou Albano, we miss you.

Now, we progress to the topic of the day, and I’m gonna keep it brief: I’ve had a particular opinion solicited by the founder of this website. I’ve been asked to provide my thoughts on the super(annoying) super-hero mania that has gripped the TV and cinema nations since Dafoe channeled the Goblin 12 years ago. I was fair to the TV shows, so I watched a few episodes “on demand”: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Gotham, and The Flash. I gritted my teeth and endured the viewings. Upon their conclusion, I hit the white boxes in the back of the closet. The “slick and polish” treatment and the youthful twist are as equally offensive as the “gritty” loquaciousness and mundane posturing. Look, kids, I’m always gonna be on the outside looking in, leering with the gargoyles before being eaten by the moon. I simply cannot endorse this movement because the shows & movies are so g*ddamned boring. They are akin to the zombie craze: the more you shoot ’em, the more they don’t just stay dead, and more of ’em explode from the armpits of Hollywood. Same ol’ song and dance without anything so original that you are transfixed. If you crave good superhero TV, IFC shows “Batman” on the weekends. There’s the outland of which we can all be proud. I am sorry I can’t improve upon this review; I can only say it all stinks and their collective popularity are creating the wrong kind of comic book fans, the ones who think “Justice League Europe” is delightfully retro and who never crack a grin while reading ” ‘Mazing Man”. Just get ’em off my planet and call me when it’s done; I’ll be under the bed with the back issues, keeping the purists and the whole g*ddamned renaissance of comic books on life support.

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With a Jolt, My Mind Awakens…Chapter Ninety-Three: Villain, Heal Thyself!

Did you know Freddie Jones was a religious healer of costumed villains? Grace your lives with the photographic evidence of his blessings to these tortured souls:


HEAL THYSELF, HIGHLANDER!


HEAL THYSELF, PHANTOM!


Be still, Benedict Arnold, my son, your pain shall soon cease…


DEMON, RELINQUISH YOUR GRASP ON THIS GOOD KITTY, NICE KITTY, SOFT KITTY!!


MAN OF STRAW, BE FREE OF TEMPTATION AND VICE!!


Courage, lumberjack, courage…


I know your sorrow, Mamba Wamba, and shall ease your suffering..


Demon Shark, I know you are sorry you ate that Kintner boy. I forgive you.

Hallelujah.

With a Jolt, My Mind Awakens…Chapter Ninety-Two: Three on a Meathook and 26 on the Range…

YES! Back again from the abyss of unidentifiable nomenclature! The champion of indistinguishable weirdness and slightly charred fundamental freakiness, your friend and no one else’s, OL’ KENTUCKY JAY! Release the buzzards and let loose the rabid kindergarteners! Let’s pause for…APPLAUSE!

Uh…why dat boy got a soiled poodle on his head?

I was blown away excrementitiously by “Zombie Ass: Toilet of the Dead” on Thursday. I engorged myself on “Dumplings” last night. Sang along in key of chaos this morning with “The Weird World of Blowfly”. The afternoon? A knock on the cellar door from a pasty-faced amigo…and an invitation to gore-gore-gore-and-den-s’more…Ladies and Gentleworms, Modern Borefare is proud to present the cinematic review of

THE ABCs of DEATH 2!!!!!!!!!

So brutal…so chilling…so feathery…!

Similar to my review of “The ABCs of Death”, I will not reveal titles of chapters, but I will make-em-up my own to coincide with the theme, followed by analysis. “Ambient Icelandic Stargazing”, courtesy of Songza, is good for my earholes. You’re at the top of the snowy hill, you’re bound to a toboggan, you’ve salty icicles from your peepers, now I’ll give ya…just..a…little…PUSH!

“A is for Airduct” – An assassin chases a target but may not survive the passage to the pay-off. What starts as slickly familiar becomes self-effacing and goofy, and I can imagine many would not be pleased with the putrescent punchline, but I giggled, so that’s-a good enuff fer me. Grade: A

“B is for Bad Woodland Creature! Very Bad!” – Man’s indecency to the creatures with whom he shares this planet is highlighted in this vignette. You’ll grasp the course of this feature rather quickly, but you’ll enjoy the brief and bloody bite. Grade: A-

“C is for Could We Have Caught the Wrong Guy?” – The lynch mob ensnares a hapless dope accused of a child’s murder. His innocence is irrelevant against the irate need for a restoration of the balance. Crumple the philosophy into a wad and toss it to the bin – This one needed to be longer and ends abruptly and discourteously. Grade: B-

“D is for Destroy Your Input Machines (At Least ’til the Next Story)” – Here we have an animated sequence involving cleanliness and the ugliness that chemicals cannot obliterate. Your world will turn to Eyebrow Exercise as you awe and EWWWW at the events. The animated features of the “The ABCs of Death” were Joy to the Sick and Sadistic, and this feature belongs in such rank. Grade: A

“E is for Every Man Has His Limit” – And in this episode, the limit was arrived at sooner than the producers anticipated. Two guys on an island gain a new friend who blahblahblah…it’s been done so often it’s tanning on the rotating rods at the 7-11 by the Parkway entrance. Obtuse Nickelback Eggheads will like the ending. All Others Must Pass Onto Letter F. Grade: D

“F is for Failure to Fuse” – The benefit of movies like “The ABCs of Death” is the admittance of new storytellers. A subtle and poised trust is placed on the director’s frame by the Golden Light. If I give you the opportunity, astound me. Rattle me. Cobra Clutch my hairy Hebrew neck until the face forms a rictus of delight. The director of the Letter F feature decided to focus on current world hostility, and this attention to a Incessantly Beeping Car Alarm of Modern Living was misguided. I think the director stayed on the path taken by other directors embracing a similar subject who couldn’t be poignant on the matter in a 2 hour treatment. This one didn’t impress me and includes a groan of a tired sexist joke that also felt hideously out-of-place with the proceedings. Grade: D

“G is for Grandad” – Pops and grandson differ in opinion and lifestyle but share long, flat tresses. The environment painted by the players of this drama needed just a smidge more focus, but that focus should not have been on the elderly man’s genitalia. OOPS! Spoiler! No, it’s not a spoiler, fellas. It’s destiny. Oh, farts, yeah, it IS a spoiler… Grade: C

“H is for Hurting the One You Love” – Another animated sequence that promotes the psychological, pre- and post-coital warfare of men and women. Watch with a lover and interpret accordingly. If your head explodes, turn away from the Buffalo Flavored Wheat Thins, hmmm? Dang, I love cartoons. Grade: A

“I is for Inheritance” – The objective of the players in this sleazefest is the equitable arrangement of Mama’s Goodies before she croaks. The kids gently help Mom along this path of legal non-existence-ship. She’s not willing. The territory’s been traversed by stalwarts and upstarts, but the griminess and a wicked undercurrent of Wouldn’t This Be Fun? sustain the story above the bog of boredom. Fun and a half. Grade: A-

“J is for Just Change Your Mind and We Will Stop Electrocuting Your Testicles” – The music for the post shifts to doom metal for a story about a man who WOULD be doomed if not for the idiomatic (and well-timed) intervention of true love. A pair of zealots try to shock a homosexual male out of his lifestyle. Proof Positive that the everyday stuff’ll kill you faster than the Conjured Vomitorium Outpourings of the Sickest Minds in Filmdom, this episode was violent fury epitomized by calm resolve and the notion of Doin’ the Right Thing. I’d like to see more from this director, as long as El Capitan stays in the outskirts. Grade: A

“K is for Killforce: Operative” – Oh, I know what’s happening here…!! Yet I watched it all go down. Is this the end of the world or just the end of the female protagonist’s world? Is she the antagonist? Did she watch just one episode too many of “Catfish” and Piss On the Wrong Cthulhu? Quiet, hellish, and happy. Grade: A

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With a Jolt, My Mind Awakens…Chapter Eighty-Seven: Pre-Holiday Birthday Shoutagrams are Delivered to…

Ol’ Jay’s headed to the Vineyard again for a week of oceanic expedition and caffeine injection (oceanic injection and caffeine expedition may, too, occur…), so pry open yer brain-containers and and scoop out a morsel of gratitude for these birthdays boys and girls:


Mil Mascaras, masked marvel and monster-masher of Mexican lore, the last of the “Big Three”, pictured above with the late Blue Demon and El Santo. Mascaras turns 72 today.


Jan-Michael Vincent (Stringfellow Hawke from “Airwolf”), pictured here with the late great Ernest (Dom Santini) Borgnine. Vincent turns 70 today…whoaaaa….a difference of only two years between him and Mascaras?!


Roky Erickson, founder of the 13th Floor Elevators, psychedelic rock trailblazer, Austin outsider, screamer of two-headed dogs, walking with zombies, and the Green Lion of my Voltronic Rock SUPERGROUP!!! 67 years strong, Roky!


Jesse “The Body” Ventura: pro wrestler, pro governor, provocateur…he’s the needle in the societal haystack that keeps sticking the gods in the rear to rattle complacency…63 years of instigating and infuriating…


Marky Ramone, the post-Tommy Ramone (RIP) drummer for the band…Hey! AOL! He’s not dead! He’s 58 years old! {AOL posted his image over the weekend when reporting on the death of Tommy — Angering On-Line: That’s AOL}



Willie Aames, who ran the pop culture tilt-a-whirl in the late 70s and 80s as Tommy Bradford (“Eight is Enough”), Hank (“Dungeons and Dragons”), and Buddy Lembeck (“Charles in Charge”) before donning the cowl and crucifix as Bibleman in 1990s…54 years old today.


Brigitte Nielsen, Red Sonja, villainess of “Rocky IV”, momentary corruptor of Stallone, would-be She-Hulk…51 years of stompin’ as of this date.


Adam Savage: buster of myths, illustrious skeptic, Deputy Marshal of Letsblowthingsupville…47 years and all digits intact.

With a Jolt, My Mind Awakens…Chapter Eighty-Six: The Inimical Ink Spilled During the Revenge of the Ghost (Artists) of Bob Kane

Long title, yeah, but it’s worth the read because I’m putting the artist spotlight on 2 Golden/Silver Age artists who lived in the shadow of the Batcreator but never escaped the recognition of the Batmaniacs: Dick Sprang and Sheldon Moldoff.

Dick Sprang illustrated Batman and Detective Comics for roughly 20 years, from 1943 to 1963. He was hired by DC Comics because Bob Kane was thought to be sucked into WWII, and Batman needed a relatively similar production that would not disorient the already rabid fanbase. Although Kane averted the frontlines, Sprang was kept on the payroll, hush-hush to keep Kane’s credit base from corroding. Sprang’s character design contributed to the set-up of the “Batman: The Brave and the Bold” cartoon that re-enfranchised (‘zat a woid? yeah, i gotz da badge, i spin the chambiz) the Batfans infuriated by “The Batman”. Dick Sprang also co-created the Riddler, ol Jay’s favorite Batnemesis, and introduced Joker’s Utility Belt, a story molded into two episodes of the Cesar Romero-ized “Batman” in ’66.

Glaze on this, Batloonies:


What do you reckon is contained in Darkseid’s Utility Belt? Chaos, despair, the captured screams of orphaned children, and pretzel stix…

The other Ghost Artist of Kane was Sheldon “Shelly” Moldoff, whose simmering dissatisfaction with being the true workhorse of Bob Kane’s signature was re-directed to the creation of sundry Batsupporters, including Ace the Bat-Hound, Batwoman (who carried a purse!), and the original Batgirl, as well as a fistful of Batbaddies: Calendar Man, Mr. Freeze, Poison Ivy, and the shape-shifting Clayface (the legendary one-panel incidental demise of “Crisis on Infinite Earths #12 back in ’86, an unceremonious deathscape shared with the Bug-Eyed Bandit).

Sheldon Moldoff drew the Caped Crusader and his Chronology until ’67, when he was released, perhaps due to the change in weather and attitude for the Bat-entity, radically re-configured by the TV show that, at the time of Moldoff’s departure, was starting to sprout some gray hairs. I still find it funny that I was always confusing the art of Dick Sprang and Sheldon Moldoff, somewhat similar senses to their approaches, but understanding they are both Eternal Ghosts of Kane, and also knowing their exploits are being celebrated, provides ample justification for this minor mindfart.


A red purse! Did you think I was kidding!?!? Continue reading

With a Jolt, My Mind Awakens…Chapter Eighty-Five: From Self-Satisfaction to Self-Destruction in 3…2…1…

Sun is shining. The heat is bearable. This miscreant’s gonna hit the SEE-ment pond today.

“Loiter Squad” and “Superjail” new seasons On Demand. Lassoed dem critters…all caught up.

Then the blazin’ red-hot Goddammitphone rings…and I answer:


Tommy Ramone: 1952-2014

Sun explodes in my punk rock collection. The heat fries my senses. Still goin’ swimmin’ but won’t shake out the excess water betwixt the ‘lobes.

AOL posts a picture of Marky Ramone instead of a pic of Tommy. Papercut City. Got Bad Religion on the horn. They’re on it.