Month: October 2014

Ghoul Drink Drunk

Ghoul Drink Drunk is a regular column that features your host, an adult male zombie who prefers bourbon and beer, exploring the sugary, sweet world of “ghoul-y drinks” for your edification and entertainment. He promises not to barf on you or eat your brains. Enjoy.

When I was a kid, my list of Top 5 Favorite Holidays looked like this:

1) Christmas – Obviously. TOYS. As an only child with typically indulgent grandparents, Christmases at my house made the gift suite at an Oscars after-party look like a miserly old maid begrudgingly sharing her Tic-Tacs. I was spoiled rotten (and am somewhat of a broken person now because of it, but THAT’S not what we’re here to talk about) and I loved every minute of it.

2) Thanksgiving – Feeling like a grown-ass adult, watching football with my uncles, furtively stealing sips of their Coors Light when they went to empty their dip cups. AND THE FOOD. Holy shit. For a fatty-in-training, Thanksgiving was like the Food Olympics. “Well, Bob Costas, I’ve trained all year for this and, yes, I think I’ll probably be able to eat so much green bean casserole that my mother has to take me aside and explain to me the concept of sharing AGAIN, and also remind me that this how rumors about thyroid problems get started. USA USA USA!!!”

3) 4th of July The sky is exploding! THE SKY IS EXPLODING!!!! Why yes, I WILL have another hot dog.

4) Valentine’s Day – Everyone I know wants to give me a card that quantifies the love they feel for me, and ALSO there are chocolates for me to jam into my maw? Everything about this day is tinted with magic in various shades of red and pink.


Ah… youth.

Back in August, I turned 34 years old. This makes me adult as fuck. And, as someone who is adult as fuck, I have finally figured out a few things that I believe to be absolutely true. Things such as:

-Eating a fiber-rich diet will greatly improve your day-to-day existence for various poop-related reasons.

-It is satisfying to pay bills in a timely manner, and parenthetically, it is also pretty cool to not have the electric company shut your power off all the time.

-Holidays, as an adult, thoroughly blow.

Now.. granted… my wife and I do not have children. As I understand it, getting to experience the holidays through your own child’s eyes is a magical thing, like seeing a Leprechaun make out with a Sasquatch. Wouldn’t know. Don’t care to find out, actually, as kids are little punks that suck out your life force and replace it with crippling debt, things they’ve shit on, and also sometimes they become serial killers. That’s just a fact.

At any rate, holidays now are terrible. They’re expensive, they require being places at certain times… usually looking nice, which is in and of itself a whole thing (“which one of these Big Johnson t-shirts would you say is the CLEANEST?)… and they tend to highlight everything that’s not going right in your life at that very moment. Also, does anyone still celebrate the 4th of July anymore? I literally cannot remember the last time I did anything for that holiday. I think I’m usually at work, assuming all the ruckus outside is the citizenry of Dallas exercising their right to bear arms.

ANYWAY, all of this is roundabout way of saying that, while MOST holidays suck gravy, there is one exception… one holiday still holding steady on my list… and that exception is, emphatically, HALLOWEEN. Halloween just fucking rules so hard, it’s spooOOooOOooky.

There are horror movies on all the time, people go fucking nuts with giving out candy, if you’re lucky you’ll hear “Thriller” on the radio… the WHOLE song, with the awesome Vincent Price rap and everything… and, just generally, it’s the one time of year where the entire country embraces the creepy, the weird, and the scary. I fucking love it… I do. Which is mostly fine. There is ONE kind of iffy side effect, and that is the fact that I cannot be in a Target or a Wal-Mart unsupervised. If that happens, I end up buying totally unnecessary, though, yes, TOTALLY BAD ASS, garbage like this:

The Ghoul Drink:


Hahaha, motherfucking Ghoul-Aid???  SCARY BLACKBERRY??? If that isn’t a fucking graveyard smash, I don’t know what is. GOD DAMN, do I love this holiday! And since I’ve got like an entire box of this stuff in my fridge now, I figured it would probably be in everyone’s best interest for me to mix it with alcohol and then write about it on the internet. Everybody on board? Yes? Wolfman? Dracula and his son? Good! Let’s get to it.


Oh, so first though… I drank one of these by itself, so I could fully understand it as an ingredient and, thus, better incorporate it into my mixology. Also, it’s fun to drink things out of Mylar pouches. Feels like right after tee-ball practice. Anyway, the Scary Blackberry Ghoul-Aid (fuck, that’s just so wonderful) was pretty damn good! Tart, like an actual blackberry, yet still retaining that fake-juice flavor that Kool-Aid long ago locked down tight. Gotta say, kids drinks have definitely improved since my day. They taste richer now. More fruity, and less “frooty.” Just superior in every way.

Obligatory Nostalgic Counterpoint: YEAH, BUT THEY’RE SURE NO ECTO-COOLER. Those sumbitches had Slimer on them.

Moving on…

The Official Ghoul-Aid Scary Blackberry Cocktail Guide

As you probably gathered from the picture above, I mixed the Ghoul-Aids with three different liquors: Some Deep Eddy Vodka, which I let get all frosty cold in the freezer, some Sauza Tequila, because the evening might as well end with me calling a bouncer a pantywaist (…aren’t you drinking these at home…), and Loopy Vodka, which you may remember from a previous post. Believe it or not, we’ve still got some of that left over.

OH, and I feel like it’s important I mention that all the cocktails were mixed with the aid of this incredibly spooktacular shot glass:



To the drinks!

Ghoul-Aid Scary Blackberry with Vodka


Yes, it’s a pretty unappealing color… kind of like a deep bruise with hints of toxic waste… but that’s just what beverages are going to look like when you’re dealing with BOO JUICE. Also, please note that this cocktail is being hand-modeled by my wife, who is sporting a seasonally appropriate blood-splatter manicure. You are correct: my wife is awesome.

The cocktail tasted… you know… fine. Mostly it just tasted really cold. The vodka kind of thinned out the tartness of the blackberry, which left behind a bland sweetness that wasn’t by any means undrinkable… it just wasn’t terribly exciting. There is the possibility that I muffed up the vodka-to-Ghoul-Aid ratio; I went closer to half-and-half, where I think the whole thing would have benefited from a one part vodka, four parts Ghoul Aid recipe. Still though, what seemed like a really bold, vibrant flavor when sucked from a pouch via an adorable, yellow straw, really weakened and buckled when paired with a spirit. I USED THE WORD SPIRIT THERE BECAUSE SPIRIT MEANS GHOSTS.


Ghoul-Aid Scary Blackberry and Tequila

So… all the cocktails looked the same. Remember the picture from a few paragraphs ago? This one was exactly that, visually-speaking. Scroll up if you need a refresher.

Whereas the vodka in the previous cocktail neutralized the Scary Blackberry flavor, the tequila in THIS cocktail simply overwhelmed it. Using the same (admittedly kind of stout) ratio as before, all I could taste was the Sauza, with maybe a faint note of sugar on the back end. Essentially it was like drinking purple tequila, which I’m surprised is a thing that doesn’t already exist. The kids these days… they like the bright colors. For their… raves…? Is that still a thing…? Probably. Probably still is. HAHA, I ain’t old!

Ghoul-Aid Scary Blackberry and Loopy Vodka

I assume you’ve heard the phrase “unholy matrimony” before? The dude that thought that up was thinking about this cocktail when he had his “a-ha!” moment. While the Ghoul-Aid is tasty on its own, and the Loopy Vodka by itself is… well, not tasty exactly, but a fair representation of the weird-flavored vodka trend… when they’re mixed together, they are like the sugar sludge pouring forth from whatever freshly-killed monster up until very recently stalked Candyland’s Candy Cane Forest.

So SWEET. So sticky on the lips. And god, the Ghoul-Aid really brings out the Lemon Pledge notes that were previously examined in the Loopy Vodka. The whole thing was a car crash in a glass, and if you ever end up drinking Ghoul-Aid Scary Blackberry and Loopy Vodka mixed together, it’s because you are being tricked, not treated.

Drink the other two cocktails. They’re fine. Don’t drink this one. DON’T. That way madness lies.


While most holidays are busy dry-humping your wallet and messing with your schedule, Halloween exists only to facilitate your having of fun times. PROOF: products like Ghoul-Aid Scary Blackberry exist, and are awesome. And you can mix them with booze! It’s not the most successful venture in the world, but it WILL get you drunk.


7 Little-Seen Horror Movies You Should Watch, Because Halloween

Halloween is fast approaching, which means that you really should be watching some horror movies in the next couple of weeks. ‘TIS THE SEASON, DAMMIT. If you’re not watching horror movies in October, you’re basically the acting mayor of No-Funnsylvania  (the elected mayor of No-Funnsylvania was impeached after the local newspaper discovered that he is actually, in fact, way, way fun).

“But C-dog, you’re so handsome, and also, what horror movies should we watch? THERE ARE TOO MANY CHOICES.”

First off, thank you for noticing my handsomeness. I have upped my candy corn intake as of late, and I think the resulting, constant sugar high has really given my skin a nice dewy glow. Regarding your second point: I know… BELIEVE ME… I know. There are SO many horror movies out there, and a lot of them, frankly, suck out loud. It can be intimidating, wading through that sticky swamp of eye-grabby titles and lurid cover art, which can lead to frustration, hopelessness, and, eventually, you just end up watching I Know What You Did Last Summer for the twentieth time because whatever, who cares, take me away, Jennifer Love Hewitt.

Fortunately, I am here to help. See, I like horror movies. A LOT. It’s my “thing,” which I will admit is kind of sad and even a little creepy 11 months out of the year. BUT NOT IN OCTOBER, BABY. The Halloween-adjacent weeks are my time to shine.

So, to that end, please allow me to jam some horror movie recommendations into your eye holes. Some LESSER KNOWN horror movies, mind you. No Nightmare on Elm Streets or Halloweens here. The following movies are ones you may not have seen, but really SHOULD see. While they might have flown a little under the radar, they are all varying degrees of greatness.

And if you HAVE seen all of these, well then… do you want to be best friends?

To the movies!

NOTE: All of these titles are available on Netflix. If you DON’T have Netflix, then… what… do you like read a lot or something? Do you hike? YOU’RE NOT BETTER THAN ME.

The Town That Dreaded Sundown


PLOT IN TEN WORDS OR LESS: 1940’s, small-town serial killer baffles cops; terrorizes locals

If you were to take a vicious, hooded serial killer and drop him into an episode of The Andy Griffith Show, the resulting Mayberry bloodbath would look a whole lot like The Town That Dreaded Sundown. The movie is almost a horror sub-genere all its own; call it, “Slice of Life Horror.” Just small-town folks, goin’ ’bout their lives… having some laughs, some love, some joy, and some sorrow…  and every now and again, a couple of them get murdered by a psychopath. Tonally, this movie is all over the place; there are icy chills, and there are moments that can only be categorized as slapstick. To me, though, that makes TTTDS even MORE realistic, because life isn’t really just one tone all the time. Maybe it has something to do with this being based on true story? Or maybe the filmmakers were just kind of not great at their job. Either way, it works.

Also, the killer… dubbed “The Phantom” by the locals… is straight-up terrifying. His hood thing, seen in the posters, is simple, yet very effective as a part of his whole slasher ensemble. Plus, he murders somebody with a trombone. It’s weird. The whole movie is kind of weird, actually. It’s all just a little off-center. Which is nice.

Here Comes The Devil


PLOT IN TEN WORDS OR LESS: Siblings disappear. Parents worry. Siblings reappear, but changed. MAGIC CAVE!!!

If you like your horror films slightly inscrutable and also full-to-bursting with weird, sexual energy and vaginal imagery, then, boy, you have really specific taste in horror films. Also, Here Comes the Devil is THE movie you’ve been looking for!

Now… I will admit up front that I did not totally understand what was happening in Here Comes the Devil. The ending, especially, is a bit of a head-scratcher. But that’s okay! Sometimes ambiguity is a horror movie’s best friend! Besides, I’m not very smart; it is ENTIRELY possible that this movie makes PERFECT sense, and it simply sailed over my head like a low-flying, very obvious condor.

Regardless, it’s worth a look, because there is a LOT of atmospheric, creepy ghost-style shit going on in HCTD. Oh, and it’s in Spanish, by the way. If you’re scared of subtitles, you are a weenie.



PLOT IN TEN WORDS OR LESS: Celebrities infect fans with their viruses. Also, Lab-grown flesh!

Antiviral is a Cronenberg movie, but not THAT Cronenberg. This is a work by Brandon Cronenberg, who is the SON of David Cronenberg. Although, to be fair, the film-making apple did not fall very far from the auteur tree. Much like his father, Young Cronenberg traffics in body horror and ideas about “the new flesh,” all wrapped up in some rather pointed social commentary. Junior’s take is a little more arch and winking than his dad’s, but that fits well with his celebrity-culture focused plot line.

Now, I will grant you that Antiviral is technically a little more science fiction-y than it is straight horror. Here’s the thing though: Don’t worry about it. At the end of the movie, you’re going to feel pretty gross, and you’re going to really not feel excellent about life, in general, either. If that isn’t horrific, I don’t know what is.



PLOT IN TEN WORDS OR LESS: Zombie virus that spreads via non-traditional methods.

We’ve all seen a million zombie movies by now, but this one… well… Pontypool is different. Giving away the twist would be, and SHOULD be, punishable by death. Your viewing experience is well-served by going in as blind as possible. So let me just say this, as a way of teasing your interest: The majority of this movie takes place in a radio station, and that setting is not an accident nor a casually tossed-off detail.

There isn’t just a ton of action in Pontypool, but it is absolutely riveting all the same. To that end, it is worth noting that this is the only movie on the list that you could stage as a theatrical production while making almost no changes to the script. That should give you a pretty good idea of what you’re in for. If that’s your kind of horror jam, you will dig the absolute pants off of Pontypool.

The House of the Devil


PLOT IN TEN WORDS OR LESS: 80’s babysitter versus Satanic cult.

A very pleasing throwback to the Satan-crazed 1980’s, The House of the Devil feels like the kind of movie you’d find occupying some real estate on the Horror shelf of your local video store, back when those were still a thing.

It should be noted that THOTD is paced a little slower than most horror flicks. It is not, as the kids say, balls to the wall (until the final 15 minutes or so). It’s the sort of movie that you kind of just have to sink into, like a hot tub. A HOT TUB FULL OF SATAN!!! Ahem, but yes, its pacing is a little on the leisurely side. Do not get discouraged! The payoff is exceptionally disturbing.

Also, there’s a thing that happens about halfway through the movie that made me jump clean out of my skin, forcing me to stop the movie until I could find some replacement skin to wear while my own skin was at the tailors, getting the hems re-sewn. It also caused me to spill my beer. So many tragedies caused by The House of the Devil

Let The Right One In


PLOT IN TEN WORDS OR LESS: Swedish vampire befriends child. Shit gets ugly.

Ugh, you guys, I love this movie so much. There is some shocking, violent shit in Let The Right One In, unquestionably, but also it will just absolutely break your heart. A few times, actually.

Let the Right One In is cold, sad, gory, and amazing. Watch it. DO NOT WATCH THE AMERICAN REMAKE. It is okay, but it’s NOT the original. If you watch the remake first, an orphaned child gets his favorite toys taken away from him, which sets him on the path to becoming a serial killer. DON’T MAKE US HAVE TO DEAL WITH ANOTHER SERIAL KILLER. Watch the original, deal with having to read while you watch (it’s in Swedish), and just… you know… be a better person. This movie is worth it, you turkeys!

Grave Encounters


PLOT IN TEN WORDS OR LESS: Douchey TV ghost hunters get exactly what they ask for.

This movie is a what-if regarding those countless “ghost hunter” TV shows, and what would happen if they stumbled upon an actually, really for real, haunted location. The filmmakers… the pretentiously-named The Vicious Brothers…are almost TOO good at recreating the smarmy, self-important aura that the casts of this breed of bottom-feeding shows put off. There are almost zero likeable characters in Grave Encounters.

But that’s fine! More chum for the waters, as it were. Terrible analogy, this movie does not take place on a boat, nor is it about sharks.

ANYWAY, Grave Encounters is mostly shot in the “found footage” style. This is important to note, because a lot of people find that style of movie-making to be the cinematic personification of laziness. I don’t necessarily disagree, but in this instance, it really works within the overall conceit.

Out of all the movies on this list, Grave Encounters would benefit the most from a few stiff cocktails and having all the lights in the house turned out. Doing those things will really ramp up your enjoyment of its somewhat cheesy, yet still pretty scary, offerings.

Everything I Ate At The State Fair of Texas, or, “Save My Soul, Deep Fried Jesus”

My State Fair is better than your state fair.

I mean, sure, they might be KIND OF similar: Wonderful/horrible foodstuffs that are worse for you than rubbing raw uranium on your face, crowds of people that represent everything that’s awful about interacting with humans, parking lots, etc. However, MY Sate Fair has something that YOUR State Fair definitely does not:


Yep. A giant robot cowboy who sometimes bursts into flames. We call him Big Tex, and he is the best. What DOES your State Fair have? JACK and also SQUAT, that’s what. Tex-as, Tex-as, TEX-AS, TEX-AS [adjusts comically over-sized belt-buckle; tosses ten-gallon Stetson into the air; eats a fistful of Bluebonnets while defending the Alamo]!!! SUCK A BUTT, OHIO AND ALSO EVERY OTHER STATE.

Ahem… sorry. See, I just got back from a day at the State Fair of Texas, which is held every year in the city I call home, and… well… this native Texan is a little jacked up on sugar, grease, and Lone Star Pride. DID I MENTION THE SUGAR??? Wow, sorry again… I’m just… everything is all shimmery and I feel like someone just shot me in the back of the head with a t-shirt cannon full of deep-fried meats.

ANYWAY, I’m not here to get all United States of Texas on your asses. What I AM here to do is talk about every single thing that I consumed at the State Fair of Texas, in order of consumption, because the State Fair is DEFINITELY the most important thing that is happening in Dallas right now. Hahahaha ha haha ha [gargles with Purell].

First up, three notes:

-All of the foodstuffs in the following pictures were split between me and my wife. Two reasons: If I had eaten everything that you see in this post by myself, my stomach would have fallen out of my butt, and also, sharing is caring. Also thrifty, as State Fair dining is EXPENSIVE. I remember when a hamburger sandwich cost a quarter! And so forth.

-The pictures you see below were taken quickly, and in crappy, overcast natural light, in an effort to get their images recorded before they cooled off and congealed into horrifying wads of sorrow. I assume you’re not coming to low-traffic internet way-stations such as Zombie Fights Shark for Diane Arbus-level photographic glory, but still… forgive the cruddy quality on some of these. Dammit, the boy is TRYING!

-We also consumed two or three bottles of water during this adventure to prevent us from turning into Biblical-style salt statues, but water is boring, so we won’t be discussing it any further.


Everything I Ate at the State Fair of Texas, or, “Save My Soul, Deep Fried Jesus”

Funnel Cake Beer


Community Beer Company, who are big, smelly deals here in the Dallas craft beer octagon, made this beer specifically for the State Fair, aiming to create a drinking experience that was both reminiscent of eating a funnel cake, but was also… you know… a beer that doesn’t suck.  MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. The State Fair Brew was pretty goddamn tasty… sweet, pastry-like notes on the front end gave way to a sharp, hoppy finish which was mellowed out by the genius move to rim the glass in powdered fucking sugar. Actually, the cup I got could have used a little MORE powdered sugar… it REALLY sold the whole funnel cake angle…  but that’s neither here nor there.

If you’re going to start your day off, like we did, drinking beers in a room full of 2015’s hottest cars, you could do a whole hell of a lot worse than Community’s State Fair Brew.

Deep Fried Shrimp Boil


This thing won, essentially, the Best In Show ribbon out of all the eligible foods served at this year’s State Fair. While it wasn’t my number one favorite thing that I ate, it WAS kind of a blow-your-hair-back experience. SO MUCH FLAVOR. Look at the guts of this sumbitch…


Various sizes of shrimp, potatoes, some corn, a little lemon, and an assload of spices, all coated in… I don’t know… magical Cajun swamp batter or whatever… and deep fried until it becomes the best hushpuppy ever crapped out of a gator-wrassler’s filthy dream. And there’s a spicy/tangy/sexy dipping sauce! Goddamn. Plop a regulation-sized football helmet full of these in front me during a Cowboys game, and I could WITHOUT HYPERBOLE eat them until my stomach exploded like that one guy in Se7en.

Chicken-Fried Meatloaf


Pretty straightforward, really… it’s two slabs of dense, well-seasoned meatloaf that have been deep-fried in that sort of crumbly, almost corn-flakey batter that is so specifically tied to chicken fried steak. They were tasty… because they’re deep-fried meatloaf, and not, say, deep-fried your-high-school-janitor’s-underwear… but they were also a tad on the dry side, screaming out for the accompanying dipping sauces. One was like a spicy ketchup kind of thing (meant to mimic the glaze one finds on a well-conjured meatloaf), and the other was cream gravy (meant to be poured directly down your throat, because cream gravy is as essential to human life as oxygen, water, and sunlight).

My wife preferred the ketchup. I preferred the cream gravy. We side-eyed each other suspiciously for the remainder of the day. I feel that this disagreement has started us down a path that will one day end with us battling each other for some sort of dipping sauce-based supremacy in an American Gladiators-style arena. Only time will tell.



Look at all the pleasing rows of canned veggies, fruits, jams, jellies, and butters. They’ve all been tasted and ranked and awarded ribbons. The display seemed to go on for miles, and I could have gazed upon it for a fortnight. If this picture doesn’t satisfy the part of your brain where the OCD Demon lives, then you are a sentient wooden puppet who has somehow gained access to the internet, and I hope you cry yourself to sleep tonight wishing you were a real boy. OR GIRL, whatever. Pinocchio-looking motherfucker.

Kona Iced Coffee


The wife wanted an iced coffee, so we got an iced coffee. Nothing particularly memorable about this beverage… it wasn’t dunked in hot oil and transformed into some kind of spongy, whipped cream-covered mass that will forever haunt my arteries… but you know, it was a nice example of the iced coffee form. Plus, they put a little cocktail umbrella on it, which is pretty fucking cute. Everything at the State Fair is just better, you guys.

Deep-Fried Potato Guts


These are supposedly twice-baked potato guts, formed into a shape that TOTALLY ISN’T TURD-ESQUE, then deep-fried in the standard fashion. They weren’t bad at all… good even… but they also weren’t terribly exciting. Basically, they were mashed potatoes with a crust. My wife described them as “deep-fried clouds,” texturally-speaking, and I can’t really do any better than that in the description department.

Any forward-thinking sports bar owner would be delighted to have these taking up valuable real estate on their appetizer menu.

Sausage on a Stick


It’s a spicy, foot-long smoked sausage on a stick. Simple, elegant, and very much like eating the BBQ version of a command performance by the Joffery Ballet. Or at the very least, Riverdance.

Demerits are given, however, due to a structurally unsound foil wrapping job that lead to barbeque sauce being dripped on my nicest Hawaiian, big-fat-party-guy shirt. Fat guys HATE shirt stains. They’re our “scarlet letters.”



While at the State Fair, we attended some pig races. Like ya do. Those little pink blurs in the center of the photograph? Pigs. Racing pigs. The prize for winning the race was an Oreo cookie. It was all very adorable, though the experience was brought down a little bit by an unrelenting typhoon of pig puns, all spoken by an MC/fake farm girl who had the worst case of “children’s theater superstar voice” I’ve ever heard. Also, there was a Forrest Gump reference in the script, which I’m sure killed in the late-90’s, but c’mon pig race banter writers! It’s 2014! We need that modern jazz, man.

Deep-Fried Brisket


I’m going to try to get through this one without crying, but no promises. You guys… this is a hunk of moist, fatty brisket that is deep fried, then covered in a thick BBQ sauce and sprinkled with some spicy dry rub. Look at it! LOOK AT IT, GODDAMNIT:


This was so fucking good, I thought about shutting down the whole “touring the State Fair” thing and just bellying up to their operation, ordering round after round of deep-fried brisket, until my grunts of pleasure got so pornographic that the State Fair security had to come remove me by force. I WOULD NOT GO PEACEFULLY.

Seriously, the deep-fried brisket was THE number one best thing I ate at the State Fair, and it is also quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever eaten ever. Caviar, foie gras, lobster butts… all of that expensive junk can go straight to hell. Pure, undiluted happiness can be bought for a measly 15 tickets at a booth next to a guy selling airbrushed face tattoos. THIS is luxury. THIS is living. CHRIST, I’m hungry for these again. As will I ever be, forever.

Funnel Cake


I mean… it’s a funnel cake. It’s going to be good, because it is hot dough and powdered sugar. Oh, and by the way, if you’re one of those people that globs on a bunch of strawberries or blueberries or whatever-the-fuckberries on top of your funnel cake, then you are so unbelievably basic that you’re practically yoga pants. Why dilute greatness with unnecessary toppings? Sometimes, the simplest path is where it’s at. Not everything has to be OMG 3D HD all the time, you dummies. JUST EAT IT LIKE JESUS WOULD HAVE.

Anyway, it was good, but it also came after the deep-fried brisket, so it definitely lacked a little in the impressiveness department. It’s kind of like how Shaq looks like a goofy younger sibling when standing next to Yao Ming. Same thing, but with fried foods.

Fletcher’s Corn Dog


Sorry that this isn’t a pretty, pre-chomp picture of a beautiful, unbroken corn dog. Actually, NOT SORRY. I want you to see where my gross mouth just was. I want you to be able to see each individual tooth-print. The above crime scene is a CELEBRATION of delicious glory. It is a testament to the corn dog… the FLETCHER’S Corn Dog, mind you… accept no substitutions.

Fletcher’s Corn Dogs… often imitated, never replicated… were invented at the State Fair of Texas, like, several million years ago (Fletcher was a Stegosaurus). THAT’S RIGHT… my State Fair invented a thing that has become a CLASSIC FOOD. What did YOUR State Fair invent? Some kind of weird fish horseshit, Minnesota? GO SIT AT THE KIDS TABLE; THE ADULTS ARE TALKING ABOUT SEX.

Gah… sorry, sorry… I just get so worked up about Fletcher’s Corn Dogs (and corn dogs in general, because who are we kidding, brand loyalty doesn’t mean a whole lot when you’re hammered at 4am with a fridge full of knock-off slop cornys chilling in your freezer, wanting only for the gentle kiss of your microwave so that they can take your hangover and crumple it into a ball and point at it, saying, “leave this place”).

Corn dogs are just the best, and Fletcher’s Corn Dogs, in particular, should win every award ever created at least once. Even the Heisman.



This is a painting of Con Air-era Nicholas Cage that was slapped on the side of some sort of Tilt-A-Whirl contraption on the midway. I do not know what it has to do with carney rides, but I DO know that it looks goddamn majestic when framed by a stormy sky and a flapping Texas flag.

Deep-Fried Snickers


When you deep-fry a Snickers bar, what you’re left with is a somewhat dense enclosure of quickly-soggifying dough that is holding back a flood of molten-hot Snickers components that have been lava-fied because heat and melting and so on. It is a tricky proposition, eating one of these, because the chances of it burning your skin and muscle and attractively-trimmed, fashionable beard clean off down to the exposed skull that lies beneath are very, very real. However, it is also a whole lot of chocolate, nougat, peanuts and fried dough, and who can resist that? Some things are just worth the years of painful skin grafts and accompanying hospital bills.

Deep-Fried PB&J w/Banana and Bacon


This was the last thing we ate at the State Fair, and by the time it rolled around, we were both kind of settling into the walking coma phase of our evening. It’s a shame, because this was kind of the secret star of the day. I mean, it’s no deep-fried brisket, but what is? NOTHING, EVER AGAIN, WILL BE DEEP FRIED BRISKET.

But still, this was damn tasty. The fattiness of the peanut butter and the general fried-ness was spectacularly cut by the glorps of grape jelly, and the banana added a nice fruitiness as well. I didn’t really taste the bacon, though. Like… at all. I think we may have actually been given a baconless fried sandwich, which, yes, IS a felony offense in the State of Texas. I’m a benevolent, kind C-dog, however, and am not pressing charges. Frankly, that would require effort, and after eating all of this, it’s all I can do to keep breathing normally sans gasping.


The State Fair of Texas is wonderful, and you should go there and eat a bunch of stuff. If you’re NOT in the great state of Texas, I guess you could go to your own State Fair, but… you know… keep in mind that you’re living a goddamn lie.

Now, I’m going to go eat small, dry salads for a week, but before I go, I want to leave you with one more picture:


This is from the State Fair of Texas’ butter sculpture exhibit. The subject this year was galloping stallions, and what you see above is an artist so focused on detail and accuracy that they spent at least a little bit of their day fashioning a horse’s butthole out of butter. That is amazing. The State Fair of Texas is amazing. EVERYTHING IS AMAZING.

Except for your State Fair, which, as previously mentioned, sucks nards.


Posterized is a column where we (me) make snap judgements about upcoming releases using their movie posters as a guide. Enjoy.



[gulps whiskey, stares meanly out into the middle distance, chokes back a sob]

I don’t want what I’m about to say to be true. Please… believe me… I want to be wrong. So very, very wrong. I want, a year from now, one of you internet rapscallions to hold this post under my nose and burst my eardrums, shouting, “Smell your failure, bloggerman! SMELL IT.”

But… I have to say it… I have to make this prediction because I believe it to be true. I believe… god help my wretched soul… that Intersteller is going to be Christopher Nolan’s first creative and financial fiasco. Now… okay… calm down, everybody… just let me… hey, there’s no need to throw beer bottles… GODDAMNIT, LET ME SPEAK. I can see that several of you are wrapping lengths of chain around your fists, and that a few others are hammering thick nails through Louisville Sluggers… please, before you beat me into something resembling a dropped pizza… hear me out.  Christopher Nolan has had one of the hottest streaks in cinematic history; he literally, to date, has not made a bad movie. Some of you might point to his 2002 film Insomnia, shruggingly, saying, “That one wasn’t so hot.” NO. WRONG. Watch it AGAIN. Insomnia is an underrated little thriller that makes Alaska seem like a frozen hellscape. Granted, the real estate show Buying Alaska does that much more efficiently, and sans a budget-busting Al Pacino, but still (people get so excited when there’s a toilet IN THE HOUSE; it’s super sad).

ANYWAY, Nolan has produced nothing but quality. He’s due for a lead balloon, and, from what I’ve gathered, Intersteller might be it. Details on the plot and whatnot are fuzzy, but it appears that what we have here is a three hour movie about space agriculture. That does not sound promising. What that sounds like, to me, is a simple idea that a committed auteur will follow all the way up his or her own butthole, slapping on layers and layers of astounding visuals until everything looks like a video game and we’re all bored out of our goddamned minds. Does anyone remember Darren Aronofsky’s The Fountain? It was a movie about the Fountain of Youth that doubled as an excellent example of why it’s sometimes not always the best call for a director to have complete creative control. There was so much going on in The Fountain… so many IDEAS… that it came out as a shambling, incomprehensible mess. Intersteller feels like Christopher Nolan’s own personal The Fountain. “Yes, we’re starting with an idea about agriculture in space, but we’re also going to be exploring the human spirit, and what it means to be a hero, and also what it means to be a father, and also how we define what is noble, and also mlmop mphhpll mplsblbhm [his words are muffled because he has breached the anus].”

Again… for the record… I DO NOT WANT TO BE RIGHT ABOUT THIS. I just feel like all signs are pointing to Intersteller being completely insufferable. I hate that I feel this way, but nobody ever said writing about movies on a website was going to be easy. Sometimes you have to make the tough calls. Keep this one on your FlopWatch radar until further notice.

Sex Ed


Hey! It’s freaking Haley Joel Osment! Man… and I say this totally without irony or snark or malicious internet bile… it’s good to see that little fucker back on the big screen. Did he do some jail time for, like, drunk driving or something? I think that’s right. I don’t feel like looking it up, mainly because Googling, “Haley Joel Osment arrested” just seems like such a bummer and I don’t need that in my browser history. Besides, we’re celebrating here! That kid from the ghost movie is doing some stuff again. Less adorably so than from back in the day… he’s like a person now, and that person seems to have swelled up a bit… but it’s all good.

Whatever this movie is that he’s in looks kind of like garbage, but, you know… at least he’s working. Remember when he was nominated for an OSCAR? The early 2000’s were a crazy time.

Dracula Untold


You know, just Dracula, pooping some bats. Or he’s made ENTIRELY of bats now? I feel like this movie is going to be playing fast and loose with the Dracula mythology. Kind of like how, as the Superman movies kept churning out, they started giving Superman powers in service of the plot instead of staying within the established cannon. Can Superman turn his “S” logo into a big plastic tarp and use it to subdue bad guys? Sure, why not? Pass the cocaine. THAT AMOUNT OF COCAINE IS TOO SMALL FOR THE CREATORS OF THE SUPERMAN FILM FRANCHISE.

Here is a list of the powers that I imagine Dracula has been granted by the creators of Dracula Untold:

-Dracula can poop bat swarms (jeez, poster… Spoiler Alert!!!)

-Dracula can fly, which IS cannon, but this time around he does it with the sleek, stylish Drac-Jet 3000, which is heavily emblazoned with the Red Bull logo

-Nothing says a modern Dracula like laser-beam eyes!

-He knows all sorts of like Kung Fu and Krav Maga shit, and also he can run up trees like in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

-Supersonic yodel.

-Dracula can turn wooden stakes into TALKING wooden stakes that are sassy, as we need something off of which to base a line of toys. Christmas is coming!

-Breathes fire, stomps buildings flat, is Godzilla.

-He can make quarters disappear, then reappear behind the female lead’s ear.

-Dracula can turn the “D” logo on his chest into a big plastic tarp that he can use to subdue bad guys.

-He can do the “Batdance.”

America’s Worst Haunted Houses


Spooky King – Hartford, CT

This is a Burger King that some enterprising franchisee has draped in fake cobwebs and rubber bats on strings. The teenager manning the drive-thru is dressed as a Dracula and all the other employees are dressed as The Crow, save for LaShonda, who doesn’t need this shit from an $8-an-hour job. The Whoppers are usually lukewarm at best, but the fries are hot, salty, and full of the Halloween spirit inasmuch as they are chock full of melting, fun-sized Mr Goodbars.

Darren’s Haunted Trailer of Doom – Lansing, MI

Just a large-ish moving trailer parked out by the dump. It is spray-painted black, inside and out. Darren is usually asleep outside on a lawn chair, though occasionally he’ll get drunk enough to put on a fright wig and dance around. This usually results in him falling over and cutting himself on some scrap metal. You will have to take him to the hospital. There is nothing remotely scary about the trailer itself, however the paint fumes can cause some interesting hallucinations.

Nightmare Horror Factory EXXXTREME – San Jose, CA

After standing in line for three and a half hours, you will be admitted into a room lit only with a black light. On a couple of stacked cinder blocks, there is a glass punch bowl filled with what are clearly de-breaded McNuggets. You are told to put your hand in the bowl. “They’re eyeballs, or whatever,” says a girl in a sexy kitty costume, in between huffs from a paper bag containing… what, exactly? Oven cleaner? Varnish? It is unclear, as you are immediately hustled out of the room and back outside. You will most likely find that your car has been towed.

The Old Cemetery Road Haunted Hay Ride and Apple-Bobbing Extravaganza – Waxahachie, TX

Not a haunted house, nor is it a hayride. Technically speaking, it is more of a trap. Steer clear unless you’re into the idea of being hunted for sport.

Mrs. Cavanaugh’s 3th Grade Scare-a-teria – Tempe, AZ

A fundraising venture mounted with the hopes of raising enough money to take care of the many wasps nests that have infested Elmer C. Burnblatt Elementary, this haunted house offers nothing in the way of thrills and/or chills. It mostly consists of a strobe light, seventeen children in ill-fitting ghost costumes, and a lot of urine (the kids have yet to really master “potty time”). Much scarier is the walk to and from your car, where you will invariably be attacked by great clouds of wasps.