Okay. Fashion. We can’t really avoid it. We can’t avoid the trends that go through society before they finally die out, only to be brought back to life later – fashion, as it turns out, is very Frankenstein.
The most obvious example is, of course, clothes, but even outside the world of designers and haute couture, we find that “fashion” or popular trends exist in everything. Hobbies. Ideologies. Even mythical creatures.
It’s the latter which this essay will focus on.
Some creatures are seemingly doomed to forever be second best. Unknown to most and with very little focus on them. Creatures like banshees, gargoyles, and harpies. It’s not that we haven’t heard about them, but how many of us can honestly name a movie or a book that revolve around one of them? The closest thing might be The Hunchback of Notre Dame, but even then, the gargoyles play only a secular role.
Other creatures, however, are given their time in the limelight. They have movies and television shows revolving around them, comics and books are written with them as the main focus, and everybody knows them. They are fashionable. They are in.
Continue reading “The Fashion of Monsters”
Let’s just start with getting that one out of the way.
I – Am – Crazy.
Nuts. Weird. An oddball. There’s just something wrong with me.
I like pineapples on pizza.
I know. Horrible, isn’t it? It’s one of those things where I know that it’s wrong, but I just can’t help myself. I mean, some people like necrophilia. Other people fuck farm animals. And I… I like pineapples on pizza.
It’s just so delicious. The juiciness and the freshness of the pineapple that keeps the meat and white bread from becoming cloying. It’s the perfect condiment. I can just feel myself starting to drool as I write this post.
I suppose I could stop myself from eating it. Just because I can’t control my liking it, doesn’t mean I can’t control my actually eating it. There are countless of recovering alcoholics out there, and if they can do it, surely, I can as well.
I just don’t want to.
Perhaps I’m weak.
Perhaps I should be ashamed.
And perhaps… perhaps it’s just some freaking pineapple on a freaking pizza?
So… why care?
Let the people have their pineapples.
We’re not forcing you to eat it.
That’s step two.
A/N: Spoiler Alert
Let me start out by saying that I don’t get horror.
Why would you pay someone to scare you? Why spend your (more or less) hard-earned pay-check to be utterly disgusted by what’s in front of you?
If you’re like me, you might even close your eyes, and now you’re effectively paying money for looking at the inside of your own eyelid. Crazy, right? I don’t care for blood. I don’t care for gore. I don’t care for cannibalism, or being grossed out, or men and women being made into a human centipede. Ugh.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I know that a lot of people adore horror. Otherwise, the statement on Stephen King’s bank account would have looked a lot different. Horror just isn’t for me. At least not when it’s found on the screen.
And yet I love Santa Clarita Diet. Why? I mean it’s got blood, it’s got gore, it’s got cannibalism. Hell, it’s even got a severed, talking head.
So why do I love it?
Continue reading “Santa Clarita Diet – The Dark Comedy”