nobody put their hands on me

This image looks like it was pulled directly from the mind of someone that is happier than all of us.

just helped an old old man log into his outlook account and we succeeded and he said “young lady, go in peace. we have accomplished this mission.” what an electrifying way of speaking…

I keep having dreams where a painless wound in my side becomes infected and grows gradually more hollow. The surface flesh is so dry and fragile that a gentle touch can cause it to cave in, and I need to clean it and see a doctor, but I'm terrified that other people will notice, so I try to hide it as I go about my day, but the story never really resolves before I wake up. Anyway, Brad, Lindsey, you two make an unstoppable team and you have your whole lives ahead of you. Let's all raise our glasses to the happy couple 🥂

it’s a pretty well-known phenomenon that you only get a couple seconds with your horror creature fully visible onscreen before it gets “chuckied,” a term coined by yours truly referring to the shift between the first and second acts of child’s play (1988) as the audience gets used to seeing the little chucky puppet moving around and consequently can no longer buy into the film’s serious slasher tone in the absence of the horror of the unknown. the tuunbaq in the terror and the dogomorph in alien 3 (1992) are also famous victims of chuckying—just like how lovecraftian horror usually falls flat on the screen, too much visibility and your scary, amorphous creature will become a very morphous puppet or cgi’d in picture. the easiest way to combat this is of course to keep the creature obscured for as much of the piece as possible; for instance, despite their oppressive presence throughout their respective works, the beast in over the garden wall is shown for less than six frames and the eponymous kaiju of cloverfield (2008) is never properly shown, allowing each to retain their mystery and danger. another route is to simply lean into the campiness of it, like the later child’s play franchise and alien resurrection (1997). in the case of the blob (1958) a mere satirical title sequence song is enough to completely transform a fairly standard creature feature into an enduring masterpiece of hokey fun. the third option to combat chuckying is for the horror creature to constantly transform—the thing (1982), the fly (1986), and aliens (1986) show their creatures in loving detail, but there is always something the audience hasn’t seen yet, something they don’t know to brace themselves for. it’s a fine line to walk, of course, but that’s the nature of the game when you want to turn the concept of the unknown into something knowable enough to bite you