Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Zombie
In these ominous times-as we grapple with war, ecological collapse, and economic Armageddon-the jaded amongst us aren't even going to bat an eye at a mob of reanimated corpses trundling through downtown Lawrence. To the attentive, it's just another portentous hour of the last days. Expect brimstone flurries with a 70% chance of zombies. Be sure to grab your umbrella and machete. Those who don't heed the call to preparation, however, do so at the risk of their soon to be violated brains.
Black Christmas to spurn Santa with Halloween album release
A band with a name like Black Christmas is probably better off celebrating its CD release on Halloween. The instrumental Lawrence band is right at home with the macabre, taking inspiration from horror-film composers like Angelo Badalamenti as well as doom-and-gloom prog bands like Goblin and King Crimson.
"Serial killer" has lost the shock of the new; the bloom is off the hemlock. There will be other serial killers, of course, no doubt more brutal and gruesome than the existing bunch, but the culture has assimilated the concept. It can't scare us anymore than it already has. There will be more serial killer novels and serial killer movies and serial killer television shows, but the rate of increase has flattened out, the concept has found its place, and so, in pop culture terms, it's over.
Jackson is an international celebrity of a magnitude that dwarfs mere movie stars or common world leaders. Nothing can compete with the utter outer-space weirdness of Michael Jackson's life and career, or the deeply disturbing nature of the charges against him.