A True Halloween Horror Story




It had to happen. With the world literally crumbling before our eyes, economies collapsing, Afghanistan reverting, icebergs melting, Sarah Palin trying to think and polls tightening, I needed a break. The pressure of every day existence, topped off with eleven hour workdays punctuated with four count em four film projects, couchsurfers, Halloween approaching, it was all becoming too much for a mere white male in the asphalt jungle. I needed an escape, and I did not want to take my drum ‘n’ bass obsessed Aussie couchsurfer Abbie out to Boystown on top of all else…

so I turned on my newly discovered cable tv system and behold! the wonder and shock and awe that is Janice Dickinson appeared in her majestic Every Day Is Halloween splendor. Once a great supermodel, now an aged kvetch, her Hollywood based reality show reminded me of why I stopped watching reality shows-and all tv- after the first season of Survivor. We watched as some not-so-attractive models pranced and preened their vacuous selves across my big screen (thank G-D I don’t have to watch this in HD! The horror!!) and flirted in that ugly house up on Mulholland that apparently no one can live in for long- a cursed mansion on the hill, done up in 90’s modern stark white, oversized and odd and looking as though it stepped out as the library from Duvalierville. Creepy, Abbie and I stared at the creature that is Angie Dickinson, misguidedly placing all her faith in her two GBF’s, the Hairdresser and the Makeup Artist. Please, Angie, fire them both. Then take a long trip around the world for UNICEF. 
By the last of the episodes, we found out that Kehoe was actually really cool, cute and straight…mostly. In this whole debacle of human misery, he comes across as the only real character of the lot. Not that I would make him Culture Minister in my administration or anything. In the final moments, Angie decides L.A. is vacuous, the models really actors and fat, and that “fashion lives in New York” (revelation #26) and ups and moves, firing the fattest and gettin’ out of town, freeing up the mansion on the hill for the next freak show of reality tv. 
I weep for the future, and I feel dirty, dirty, dirty after spending three hours on this dreck when I could have been dialing undecided voters in Nevada. Last night I made up for it with the ever-faithful Robert Osborne (nice fellah, BTW) and TCM with the original Cat People and I Walked With A Zombie. Somehow, trash culture needs the patina of age. And I don’t mean Ms. Dickinson’s kind.
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3 Responses to “A True Halloween Horror Story”

  1. I'm glad I don't know what in the hell this blog is about!But I wish I hadn't spent the afternoon pushing doorbells for Obama in an angry white-southern-male neighborhood, while the local nfl team was losing. Now I'm afraid Nov. 4th will be the end of the world!

  2. I'm glad I don't know what in the hell this blog is about!But I wish I hadn't spent the afternoon pushing doorbells for Obama in an angry white-southern-male neighborhood, while the local nfl team was losing. Now I'm afraid Nov. 4th will be the end of the world!

  3. Natalie and I were appalled as teenagers when self-proclaimed "supermodel" Janice Dickinson rose to mediocre heights. We thought she was a shrew even then.

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