I would be lying if I said I had fond memories of Morgan Freeman on The Electric Company. This is not because I did not enjoy his contributions to the program but more because I cannot make the connection between the Morgan Freeman of today with the Morgan Freeman who played Easy Reader. They seem, to my mind, two entirely different people and, subsequently, I find myself having to be reminded of this fact when it is presented to me. More importantly, however, may be the fact that most of my memories of The Electric Company are dominated by the silent specter of Spiderman.
Regardless of mute superheroes or faulty memories Mr. Freeman was a regular cast member playing a number of different characters including Vincent the Vegetable Vampire, which is about all the backstory you’ll need for this clip of Morgan Freeman taking a bath in a coffin.
Anne Ramsey, perhaps best known for her role as Ma Fratelli in Goonies, was born today in 1929.
The night was sultry.
The daughter of East Coast bluebloods, Ramsey attended elite preparatory schools in Connecticut, making her social debut the same season as Jackie-O. Later in life, she would be seen in all manner of television shows playing bag ladies, gypsies, cab drivers and housekeepers.
She married TV actor Logan Ramsey in the 50s, and together they made 5 films. In 1987, only three months before her death from throat cancer (removal of part of her lower jaw and tongue gave her the slurred speech she became known for in her later films), she received a Best Supporting Actress nomination for her role in Throw Momma From The Train. No offense to Olympia Dukakis, but I wish she’d won.
She’s just head-explodingly awesome –the ultimate lady curmudgeon– and I’d happily endure Alf for her any day.
Perhaps, like me, you find yourself in the midst of a tedious post-lunch session of completing TPS reports or contemplating non-work related questions like if science will be able to conquer the problem of cooking pancakes in space or, perhaps, you are simply staring blankly into space, a thin thread of drool dangling from your chin. If so, cheer up. No one reads those TPS reports anyway and spacecakes will be more wondrous than you could ever imagine. Now, wipe the drool off your chin and prepare for the wonder of internet archived filmic majesty.
Today’s offering is the short television documentary Aleister Crowley: The Other Loch Ness Monster, detailing the history of Boleskine House, where once Wickedest Man in the World and occult obsessed trust fund baby Aleister Crowley intended to perform the ritual found in The Book of the Sacred Magick of Abra-Melin the Mage, in order to call forth his guardian angel. The six month operation required Crowley to summon a number of demons and attempt to turn them towards good. However, he was called away from Boleskine House in order to help his mentor — and then-head of The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn — Samuel Liddell, leaving the ritual unfinished and, more importantly, the evil spirits he called forth unbanished. He did not banish them! They are still there! Nessie might be one of them! Jimmy Page’s friend totally heard one outside his door one time!
It’s crazy, crazy shit, yet completely entertaining. Besides it will eat up some time between now and five o’clock.
HOLY SHIT. I just discovered the website Everything Is Terrible (which should really be called Bad Touch Central, or Kill It With Fire). JACKPOT. I kind of feel like a kid who’s just come downstairs on Christmas morning and discovered grandma giving Santa a hummer a living room filled to the brim with goodies.
Be warned: at about 1:45, this clip gets downright demonic.
After discovering stuff like RE/SEARCH, those Incredibly Strange Music comps, zine culture, and wandering the specialty video store booths at the (then much smaller, homegrown) San Diego Comic Convention, I realized there were entire fringe communities of weirdos compelled to do exactly the same thing! I was so excited! We were all trading these grainy, janky 4th generation bootlegs of our favorite oddball material. Pre internet, those communities were more localized. One the internet kicked in, it went global. Of course, now we have YouTube [and better yet, Vimeo]…
…and Everything Is Terrible –bless their black, festering hearts– has a channel chock full o’ madness. These are only a few of the more soul-rending clips they’ve culled from the etherstatic for our pleasure. If you’ve got an hour (or several) to kill (as violently and memorably as possible), you should probably head on over there. Or, if you quailed upon viewing these clips, click here instead.
More Everything Is Terrible curated gems after the jump.
EDIT 1 2009/08/04 1:50pm: Oh no! YouTube just suspended EIT’s account. “[You] won’t be able to watch most of our videos until we find a new home for them. We’re working hard to rebuild, but it’s going to take a little while. Sit down, breathe into a paper bag, and try to relax. We will keep you updated. Don’t worry, we will continue to post new videos.”
It’s been days since we hastily cooked up that batch of bathtub MDMA in honor of the Zobogrammatron’s incept date. Still, I don’t think I’ve quite come down yet, so I’m not really sure what we’re watching right now, folks. I do know that it is very colorful and shiny and retro and Japanese and somehow vaguely Lovecraftian by way of Fisher Price, and thus, it cannot help but to be better than coffee.*
OctopieInTheSky, who has created an entire YouTube channel devoted to the show, may be able to clarify:
A messed-up kids program which first appeared on the Japanese Broadcasting Corporation’s JOCX-TV on October 1st, 1973. Every episode is basically about Kure Kure Takora wanting something that belongs to the other characters and then tries to steal it. While the episodes only run 2 and a half minutes each, you’ll be treated to acts of:
antisocial behavior (always guaranteed)
random violence (guaranteed)
cannibalism
Love triangles that cross not only species but also plant/animal classifications
Like any good, nerdly child of my era I was enamored with the Ghostbusters. The original film is a hallmark of my early years, though I will admit that the cartoon, which would eventually be called The Real Ghostbusters, probably exerted a greater pull on my psyche. It was these representations of the quartet of spirit exterminators whose merchandise adorned my room. These were the faces on the action figures and posters. They were the ones whose proton-packs were emulated by hollow plastic, complete with child-safe foam beam. Wherever I went, a cartoon-themed trail of plastic detritus followed.
The brand has its hooks embedded deep in me, then, so one may understand why I would be so bewitched by this alternate past version of Ghost Busters from Columbia Pictures starring Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, Bob Hope, and Fred MacMurray. A Frankenstein’s monster of various films and television shows expertly edited and stitched together to form a pitch-perfect trailer for this horror/sci-fi/comedy from an other-dimensional 1954, featuring a number of subtle references and skillfully hidden nods to a much loved, childhood touchstone. It’s almost enough to make me dig out the old charged particle accelerator.
Does anybody else who wore a flannel tied around their waist in the mid 90s remember the band Whale? Anyone? Kinda? Barely? Yeah… I know most of the hissing, static backwash of post-grunge era MTV Alternative Nation had all but evaporated from my palate. But to this day, there’s a place in my heart (and pants) for that frizzy-haired “Hobo Humpin’ Slobo Babe” and her mouth full of braces. In the Venn Diagram where silly and sexy intersect, stands Cia Berg.
Years after Whale had receded into distant memory, I stumbled across the above video of a super young, extra svelte Cia goofing off with her first band, Ubangi. I’d never heard of ’em before, but it was love at first listen. The guys in the group are hilarious; they reminds me of a low-rent, less dignified DEVO (if they’re derivative it’s in the best possible way!) and baby Berg looks quite fetching without the punk rock perm.
A few more adorable Ubangi clips (including a ditty called “Where Have All the Good Sperms Gone”??!) after the jump.
As mentioned previously on Coilhouse, I happen to think DJ Earworm is one of the most creative and engaging mashup artists out there. His latest offering, “Backwards/Forwards” is a sublime distillation of Annie Lennox’s most fabulously demented/dementedly fabulous moments in music and videography. Enjoy.
Unlike many, I have no particular quibbles with Scientology. In terms of belief their particular brand of lunacy is no more abhorrent than omnipotent bearded men, elephant-headed deities, or reincarnation. There is something intrinsically modern about Scientology’s aliens and space-faring DC-3s. It is a a belief system with a mythology that could only have been invented by an author of science fiction. No other person would have that complete a vision or be willing to go so far beyond the pale. In that regard it is no surprise that the likes of Anonymous have pursued the organization as it has. They are, after all, infringing on prime geek territory.
In keeping with that same tone, Scientology has started a new advertising campaign comprised of a trio of commercials aimed at enticing the public. The one above is most interesting. If one didn’t know better one might speculate that it was aimed squarely at the aforementioned 4chaners, as it appears to be a none to subtle nod at a similar speech from Fight Club which, among other things, inspired the boards’s rules. Perhaps it is merely a byproduct of the organization’s many ties with elite Hollywood actors. Either way, the ads are undeniably slick and handily fit in with Scientology’s sci-fi roots. These are ads you would expect to find on the television in a Philip K. Dick novel; plastered on the billboards of some dystopian, near-future Los Angeles.
Mostly, though, they bring me back to my childhood, staying home sick from school and watching daytime television. Family Feud cuts to commercial break and a series of insightful questions flash on screen, appended by page numbers. How can a person suddenly lose confidence? Can your mind limit your success? Paper or plastic? Then, CRASH, a volcano explodes on the screen, churning up a hellish cauldron of white-hot magma, an ominous voice intoning the words “Read Dianetics, by L. Ron Hubbard. It’s the owner’s manual, for the human mind.” It had a profound effect on me as a child. At least, until The Feud came back on.
Nick Cave & Blixa Bargeld announce 120 Minutes for MTV, recorded early 1994.
If anyone here can decipher Blixa‘s sinister whisper divulging the 4th circle of MTV hell (“sea of burning lead of … hippie …” something?) please leave it in comments.
*For those of you just tuning in, we three Coilhouse editors share a breathless, bone-deep predilection for all things Nixa. The depth, power and futility of our combined/confused longing easily eclipses the paltry obsessions of even the most twitterpated Twilight tween. (Say that three times fast.) Fear us. Pity us. We are lost.
