Like, Boo! All you thalidomide babies! It's me, Spooker Washington. And this is the last time I'll be slogging through Whoop-doo! Village for a while (rumor has it I might be back with a Thanksgiving Special, though! Keep your eyes peeled.). Here we sit, only a day away from Halloween. And as you might expect, I have been bombarded with invites to host many a horror movie marathon. I couldn't commit to any of them. For some odd reason, these have all become bourgeois affairs. Horror aficionados enjoy expensive red wine with their Italian schlock. And each set list sent my way contained explicit Grindhouse creepers that no one else has ever heard of. Its always three titles I can't quite wrap my boney skull around, shown in some spiffed up celebrity graveyard. Fun for fascists and hoity-toity splat buffs, sure. But I'm not down with that. When did the requisite horror film festive turn into a bunch of gothed up Trekie nerds? Tight black jeans and hillbilly high waters? Gelled black hair, short skirts, and ruby red lipstick? Fuck you! Is this a Reverend Horton Heat tailgate party or a Samhain tribute to gory thrillrides?
I can't tell.
There are snivel snobs in every genre of entertainment. From Music to Antiques to Snuff Films, there's always a certain certifiable group of individuals that take it all a little too seriously. And true-to-the-bone horror fans are the worst. They like to poo-poo the funcore flicks that truly entertain while championing some rotgut piece of Argento wannabe garbage you, Joe Average, would turn off in a heartbeat. Hey, good on them! I'm glad they've found something in their lives to hold onto and call their own. But they can't expect me to sit there and enjoy the pain. Its torture, some of these exquisite examples of Iron Maiden cinema! I introduce the film, then I have to sit there and shake my head. I have to murmur loving jelly kisses onto something that taste like fished out vag guts. I don't want to pretend to like these pretentious whore doggies any more than you do. That's why I didn't want to do it this year. I've had enough of these so-called classy horror marathons.
But then I was invited to host the Six-Pack Thrill-A-Thon! Now, here's something I can really get behind. I like my beer like I like my horror movies: Cheap, fast, and gut punchy! The Yates Family Mansion up in Mission Hills has asked me to cordially invite you to their 1st annual cheap beer and cheaper flicks movie marathon, which yours truly will be MCing. It is an evening of American Six-Pack tasting and cult flick watching. It's basically an all-day event held in the Yates Mansion courtyard, where the movies will be shown on a giant blow-up screen. The fun starts at 10 am on October 31st, and will go until about 2 am. And we are planning an exclusive monster mash 'em up after bash following the films. All for the price of forty-five dollars a ticket. (Cheap!) You get one six pack for each film being shown. Plus lunch, dinner, and snacks. Not a bad deal. And the Yates Family put me in charge of picking out the films. Here's the glorious line-up:
Come one, come all to the world's first and only Six-Pack Thrill-A-Thon. 8 classic American beers! 8 classic American Horror films! It should be a real Hootenanny! If I don't see you there, I will see you in the very near future (look for Spooker Washington's Thanksgiving Turkey Massacre this November!). If you are unable to join the festivities, most of these films are available for purchase through their links. Buy up and hold your own Six-Pack Thrill-A-Thon!
Until then, Spook ya laters! (If you are unable to attend, let me know in the comment section below what your favorite cheap beer drinkin' horror flicks are. This is sure to become an annual event, and I want to know what you would show!)