Christopher C. Starr's Blog, page 18

Celebration of Wickedness Day 16: KHAN NOONIEN SINGH

Ricardo Montalban was a sexy man. He was hand-crafted from fine Corinthian leather. He could put on a white suit, grab a little person and make all your fantasies come true. I once saw him, as Mr. Rourke, go toe to toe with the Devil. And win. So who else could sport feathered bangs and a vest with no shirt and still be the most memorable villain in the 23rd century?

But this ain’t about Ricardo Montalban, it’s about Khan Noonien Singh (truth be told, I didn’t even know he had a middle or last name until I got ready for this post). Khan is the antagonist from Star Trek II, as in The Wrath Of, and easily the most recognizable villain from Star Trek (like I would choose the tribbles).

We meet Khan Noonien Singh in an episode of the original Star Trek series. Khan is a genetically engineered human being with the “superior intellect.” He used his powers to conquer about a quarter of the earth during the 1990s (don’t you remember that?) When the unwashed masses rose against him, he and about 80 folks fled earth, got stuck in suspended animation until they were found 400 years later by the Enterprise. Kirk does Khan a solid and thaws him out; Khan thanks him by taking over his ship. Khan and his folks are exiled to a planet in the middle of nothing to serve out their sentence.

The end, right? Nope.

When we see Khan again, the planet he was exiled too is knocked off course and becomes a barren wasteland with only the 80 humans and these desert rock lobsters whose babies can make you “weak-minded” if you stick them in your ears. I have no idea how you figure that out…Anyway, a routine mission becomes a hijacking and suddenly Khan is back on the scene with a Federation starship and an eagerness to beat the shit out of James T Kirk. Khan’s return brings us numerous bad haircuts, William Shatner’s obvious toupee, introduces Kirstie Alley, and Spock’s death.

Khan has 23rd century street cred. This is what makes him so cool. For all the superior intellect, genetic enhancement bullshit, Khan is simply a thug from the future. And he’s good at it! This is why he’s Star Trek’s most memorable villain—he’s actually something and someone we can understand. He’s a criminal in fine clothing, surrounded by advanced technology, but a criminal nonetheless.

And this is why Khan Noonien Singh makes the cut as a fantastic villain: Khan is gangster. Put your phasers on stun; hear me out. Khan carjacked the both Enterprise and the Reliant, does a drive-by on the Enterprise first chance he gets, steals the Genesis device, and kills Kirk’s boy. Every time he walks on the screen, I swear I can hear 50 Cent’s P.I.M.P.: “I don’t know what you heard about me…”

Tomorrow, we continue with the A to Z Challenge with O for the Overlook Hotel—the setting for Stephen King’s The Shining. “All work and no play…”

Celebration of Wickedness Day 11: JAWS #atozchallenge

Beaches are supposed to be fun. Beaches are supposed to be Annette Funicello/Frankie Avalon-esque scenes of sandy fun and bikini-clad hormone-o-ramas. Old people, little kids, taut teenagers, sun, surf, smiles. That's the beach. They are supposed to be fun.

Not cauldrons of frothing blood, 25-foot-long leviathans and an endless body count.

That's not the beach. That's Jaws.

I was 2 when the original movie came out. I didn't see it until I was like 14 or so. I did, however, see Jaws 2 when it came out. My grandmother took us. She even bought me a t-shirt from the movie. That movie's tagline was "Just when you thought it was safe to back in the water again…" Again? I thought. Well, what happened the first time? What could have happ—oh my god! For the next two hours, I watched a great white shark tear after teenagers and color the ocean red. And, after the movie, my grandmother TOOK US TO THE BEACH!

I'm ok now: my psychologist prescribes sunscreen and Xanax every summer.

Jaws did a bunch of things in terms of storytelling and changing the way we look at the stories that resonate with us. It was the first $100M movie and was the highest grossing film of all time until Star Wars. It made the E and F sharp the most frightening notes in music. Though I'm sure the Great White Shark Defense League didn't appreciate all the negative publicity.

To date we've looked at cockroaches from outer space, a radioactive Jekyll and Hyde, a sadistic puppy killer, a vampire, a rejected parasite, a child molester turned boogeyman, a giant fire-breathing dinosaur, a truly haunted house, a killer clown from outer space, and a bumbling international criminal who can't shake a 4th grader and her dog. And, short of the House, we haven't looked at anything that's remotely plausible let alone possible. Until now. This is what makes the shark an incredible villain: possibility. While implausible, a great white shark attacking a seaside community is possible. It can happen. That's what makes it terrifying.

Jaws worked because it redefined the way we look at danger—and how close we'd allow it to be. It's easy to say this is a classic man vs. nature type of story—the same thing that Alien did for space, Jaws does for the beach. That's surface stuff. What Jaws did is bring danger home. Made it personal. Who doesn't like the beach? Everyone wants to see their children have a good time on a hot summer day, watch them play in the surf. Just like Alex Kitner's mother.

Tune in tomorrow, same Bat-time, different Bat-channel: tomorrow I'm posting over at Morgen Bailey's blog (www.morgenbailey.com). We'll be taking a good hard look at the Clown Prince of Crime—the Joker!

How We Broke Disneyworld Part VI

In the midst of the craziness, all the villainy goodness, the pages upon pages of script and poorly written novel, I bet you thought I forgot all about that Disney thing I was telling you about, huh? Bet you thought I'd never circle back—just leave ya hanging. NOPE!

And if you're wondering, here's where we left off:

RECAP: Once upon a time, there was a man, his Wife, and their children, The Boy and the Honey Badger. They had a magical dream—to see a little boy fly. So they traveled to the most magical place on earth, found a little boy, took him to the top of Cinderella's castle, wished upon a star and let him go. Things did not go well. In fact, charges were filed yesterday for an alleged "assault" of Peter Pan. Pete can't fly (pixie dust, my ass). He also can't walk or run or jump. Now he makes Christopher Reeve look like Bruce Jenner. Whatever. We countersued with Fraud. Anyway, after our alleged "actions" caused the fairy's injuries, we (and I'm reading from the police report now) "attempted to flee the scene, committed grand theft auto by confiscating a parking tram, committed 82 counts of kidnapping (the tram had passengers), assaulted 2 Space Rangers with 'imitation' lasers, committed 4 counts of gross indifference by laughing (hey, Tanner should have worn his seatbelt), 1 count criminal negligence(Indiana Jones was drunk when he swing unto the Big Blue Hat), and 1 count of flying an unauthorized aircraft in a no-fly without a pilot's license." There are also unspecified damages—I don't have solid figures yet but it has 8 digits.

And now for the thrilling conclusion of How We Broke Disneyworld.

Problem is, at this point, we hadn't even left the park.

The Nazi Flying Wing from the Raiders of the Lost Ark cannot actually fly. It's not even a real aircraft (which is part of our defense). So instead of flying the hell out of Orlando, my 9-year-old is rumbling this behemoth down the street. There's a small mob behind us, waving neon Michael Jackson hands and strobing lightsabers, yelling Don Knotts-style obscenities in the darkness.

I just want to go home, The Boy has crayon all over his face from the kindergarten savages, The Honey Badger is enjoying the trip entirely too much (and wants to know if the guns on the plane work), and my Wife is laden with bags bursting from the swag she's confiscated along the way. This nonsense has to stop and there's really only one place left to go: I can see the top of the Spaceship Earth ball looming ahead. Epcot.

As we rumble into the parking lot, we are met by a semi-circle of black SUVs complete with mouse-eared, muscled security officers waving their red and blue flashlights. They've apparently had it as well: they're cursing at us in the Mickey voices: "That's it, jackasses!" and "Ha ha! We've got you now!" and "Gawrsh, you've really caused a disturbance."

Shit.

I should mention here that during our Disney trip, we made an excursion over the border and went to Universal Studios. Disney bought Marvel Comics last year but hasn't been able to convince the characters they actually own to migrate to a single Disney park. It's like the Civil War: cuddly, friendly princesses, fairies and animated animals against a kid who can shoot webs, an ornery man with metal bones, and an overwhelmingly patriotic man with a shield. Oh yeah, they have a Hulk. He's not so friendly. And they have the other nexus of magical power: the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

This shit is like the Middlearth: on one end of Orlando is the happiest place ever–whose magic could not make the boy fly, I might add—and on the other is like the dark side of the force (except Disney is trying to buy the Force). While at Universal, the children got wands: The Boy got Sirius Black's; the Honey Badger got her own. She's been carrying her wand around for days—to dinner, to the bathroom, and to Epcot. And she knows only one spell.

Our plane is still moving, the Mickeys have us surrounded and they are genuinely tired of our shenanigans, and the Honey Badger pops the cockpit, pulls out her wands and says, "Avada Kedavra!" I look at The Boy, he covers his mouth and goes, "Ooooo," like the cat from Puss N Boots. I look quizzically at my Wife, she whispers, "It's the Killing Curse!" I'm not a Harry Potter fan; I don't know what that means. But the Mickeys do.

An SUV flips in the air and I hear a Mickey scream, "Ahhh, she got me!" (still in the Mickey voice). What kind of shit? The Honey Badger's loving it. She whirls, aims, "Avada Kedavra!" Another SUV upended. I look at my kid, who is ECSTATIC, and I say, "What are you doing? Are you killing them?" She shrugs. "Ioan'tknow." And then, "Avada—" I snatch her wand. "Stop!"

I first saw a picture of Epcot Center when I was 12 or 13. I remember that one of the kids in my neighborhood had just gotten back from Walt Disney World and was showing us pictures (back when pictures where on paper, not on your phone). He kept showing up pics of this big ass golf ball-looking thing and I kept saying, "What is that?" And he would only answer, "Epcot." So for 25 years, I thought the entire park was in that ball. And all I wanted to know was, what's in it?

Now I know. The plane crashes into the ball, weakening the supports. I hear an eerie quiet, the sudden inhaling of breath and then CREEEAAAKKK!!!! The ball shudders then, slowly, begins to roll. Away from us. It thunders to the ground, shattering the flickering sidewalk, leaking those triangle pieces as it rolls over immaculately clipped hedge statues of Mickey and Minnie Mouse. They're flat now. The ball—Spaceship Earth—rolls out to the World Showcase lagoon right in the middle of Illuminations. It was like that scene in 48 Hours when Eddie Murphy shows up in the country bar and the music stops. What's in that ball at Epcot? Now, about 68,000 thousand gallons of water.

A hush falls over the park. Our plane sits smoldering in the three-legged wreckage of Spaceship Earth. In the parking lot behind us, two SUVs swivel slowly on their hoods, tendrils of smoke pooling in the air, crooked bodies strewn about. The only fireworks in the lagoon are the rampant sparks from inside the great big ball. Epcot is broken, Indy is broken, Peter Pan is broken.

"Oops," I say aloud. "Sorry. So, uh, we're gonna, um, we're gonna go ahead and call it."

A man staggers up to me, the same tram driver I kicked out earlier in our escapades. He leans in close to me, raggedy orange vest still clinging to his slender frame, and says, sounding just like Scar, "Run away, Simba, and NEVER RETURN."

We did. And here we sit, awaiting our arraignment.

And that, my friends, is how we broke Disneyworld.

Celebration of Wickedness Day 10: DR. CLAW #atozchallenge

I've seen a lot of cartoons in my day. They generally fall into two camps: the cat-and-mouse, coyote-and-roadrunner variety that tend to devolve into one large pseudo-murder fest that's good fun for the whole family; and the Duck Tales-Rescue Rangers-Scooby Doo version that tend offer the extended remix plot. In either case, at the end everyone went home or back to their respective caves or Mystery Machines or whatever. But everybody lived to see another day.

This is where Inspector Gadget is different. Or tried to be.

On Inspector Gadget, the villain tried to kill the hero. Repeatedly.

What's that? You didn't watch Inspector Gadget? Seriously? First, Gadget had the best theme song in cartoon history, until Duck Tales and Rescue Rangers (and you guys know I'm right). Second, Dr. Claw, Gadget's only villain, was some combination of Ernst Blofeld and Boris Badinoff—part international spy with nearly limitless resources and a BAD-ASS CAR, part bumbling idiot who is upset by an robotic Inspector Clouseau. And third, he had the cat.

I loved Dr. Claw because he was thoroughly pissed off day in and day out. He HATED Gadget with a passion. And he sincerely TRIED to kill him every single episode. Now, I can't comment on the efficacy of a criminal mastermind who helms an international crime syndicate but whose schemes are consistently thwarted by a 10-year-old girl and her dog, but his disgust was palpable. He'd watch with chagrin from his chair, only one arm visible, stroking Madcat, cursing at the screen as everything went awry. "I'll get you next time, Gadget. GADGETTTTT!!" And then zoom off underwater, in the air, whatever in his Awesome-Mobile (it was actually called the MADmobile but it was awesome to me).

I know it's stupid but Dr. Claw was the first villain that I really dug. I actually rooted for him. He kept getting these awesome schemes kicked to the curb by a Six Million Dollar Man knockoff. It was maddening to me (and to him—he pounded his console week after week with that big-ass metal hand). That's what worked for me, I guess, I sympathized. I didn't like Gadget: he was too stupid for me. Penny was a know-it-all; the only one I really dug was the dog, Brain, but he spent his days frustrated that he couldn't talk and had save this electronic idiot again and again. I was privately hoping he'd win.

As a writer, Dr. Claw made me understand the seductive quality of a good villain: for all the heinous things they do, all the pain they inflict, they have to be likeable somewhere, somehow. They have to have something—a great voice, heavy breathing, a pesky kid with a lightning bolt scar who just gets under your skin—that makes them attractive to the reader. Something more than a maniacal laugh and lofty goals of world domination.

So…tomorrow is J day, J for JAWS. You'll never go in the water again…

Celebration of Wickedness Day 9: AMITYVILLE HORROR HOUSE #atozchallenge

I have only witnessed a few things in this life have actually caused me to change how I live. Jaws 2 really made me second guess the wisdom of going back in the water again but I live on the coast. I even watched another episode of the Kardashians after Kris Humphries did Kim so wrong. I've even had someone get shot next to me and still will go back to the Riverside Perkins for pancakes. But the Amityville Horror changed my life.

Who doesn't know this story? The Lutz's are a young, blended family who move into a house in Long Island that has some "history." See, 13 months before the Lutz's move in, the family before them was brutally murdered by a family member while they slept. Adults, kids, everybody shot. In spite of the obvious RED ASS FLAGS, the Lutz's move in and experience a series of phenomena that let them know there are some issues with the crib. I don't know about you, but shit like blood coming out the faucets, my kids having imaginary friends who are really dead kids who used to live in the house, a constant sickness, an infestation of flies in the winter—these things would make me question the quality of my real estate investment.

For three months, these people endured all kinds of supernatural events. Their kids were buggin, the dog was trippin, somebody called the house a "Gateway to Hell." And these people dealt with it. They laughed off blood coming out the plumbing—would you ignore BLOOD coming out the faucet? They ignored that something woke up George Lutz everyday at 3:15am. And when they tried to perform a blessing on the house, the House said "Will you stop?" The HOUSE said it. And they still stayed.

Until one day they finally decided enough was enough and then the House said, "Too bad, dummy, now you have to stay." So they finally break down walls and bust out windows and get every human being out the house and as they are pulling out of the driveway, a child says, "Wait! What about Scruffy or Rex or Tuffy or whatever the hell the dog's name is?" So they stop and GO BACK FOR THE DOG.

Now if you have read this much of the post, it is obvious it affected me, right? This flick terrified me. Honestly. And that terror was only intensified by the fact that it's true! That shit is true! You can get in a car and drive by the House (that is a trip that I will never, ever take). You can watch interviews with the real family, the real priest, neighbors, whatever. Once I found that out, I resolved to not only never see the house, I don't care if I ever see Long Island. Fuck that. I'm good.

See, I don't just remember the movie, I remember where I was sitting when I saw that life-sized ass doll open her eyes and start rocking on her own. I remember the brown velour shirt with the blue stripe I had on my back (shut up—I was fly in 1979) when the House told the priest to "Get Out!" And I remember the yellow flannel Battlestar Galactica pajamas I had on when the Lutz's finally gained the common sense to LEAVE THE FUCKING HOUSE!

But more than that, I remember how I felt. I was and remain terrified of that house. Not scared. Not frightened. Terrified. Because it's based on a true story, because it's real, I can't separate what I saw on screen from that real live edifice. And I don't want to. It is the only thing I have ever brought from the screen or a book (with the exception of the of the superflu from The Stand—man, this cat coughed next to me while I was reading it…)

As inspiration for this post, my wife offered to put the movie on for me. After I spit up my drink, I politely demurred: "That's a big NFW, good buddy." Just thinking about it might have me sleeping with the lights on this week.

So, I'm gonna try and shake it off. Tomorrow is Dr. Claw from Inspector Gadget. GADGET!!!

Celebration of Wickedness Day 8: PENNYWISE THE CLOWN #30daysofmadness

While the rest of the Christian world is celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ (Happy Easter, everybody!), we're still celebrating the darker side of life. Today's villain du jour is Pennywise, the child-killing clown from It.

I don't know a single soul that has read the book—it's longer than the Bible. But I know a whole bunch of people who saw the miniseries. If you weren't one of them, it's the story of a giant inter-dimensional spider-thing that terrorizes a small town in Massachusetts or Rhode Island of any one of the other 78 states in New England. They spider-thing takes the form of a clown, Pennywise, to lure kids into the sewers to dine on them.

I have a couple confessions to make: first, I didn't see It until I was an adult in my 30s so the terror was lost on me—the dated hairstyles and poor special effects made me think it was just an extra long episode Cheers; second, I actually didn't think It was that good, I just remember what my friends kept saying:

"Dude, the clown…the clown really freaked me out."

The problem with this is it was college students talking. I'd graduated from high school the summer before and was working on my first attempt at a college degree at Morehouse College in Atlanta, GA. For whatever reason, I didn't see it. I don't know, I didn't have a TV, the ratio of women to men was 14 to 1 and there were better things to watch, or I was sleep. I missed it.

But the thing is, all those other people didn't.

These were grown men sleeping with the lights on, lamenting about this damn clown and, even though I hadn't seen it, I was genuinely interested in this character. Or rather, in his impact. In light of what we've learned so far, what makes Pennywise so effective, so frightening is that he is something so malevolent in such innocuous trappings. Pennywise is a clown, with fanged teeth, but a clown nonetheless. And until It graced our television screens, the creepiest things about clowns was that they hung out with nondescript purple guys named Grimace, known Hamburglars, and traveled in those itty-bitty cars.

We used to look forward to clowns. How many of us grew up watching Bozo the Clown before school? We've all had Happy Meals. And I know hundreds of my peers watched the clowns at the Shrine Circus. They were good, clean fun. And that's the thing, that's the rub. Clowns are supposed to be harmless (John Wayne Gacy aside) and Pennywise uses that inherent trust to kill children. Remember when I said Cruella DeVille was just mean? You gotta admit, posing as a clown to catch a snack is pretty f'd up.

I added Pennywise to the list as a fantastic villain because of his MO: he takes something that generally engenders happy feelings and uses it as bait for something sinister. And, in the process, changes the way we look at clowns.

I could talk about that this is a common trait among Stephen King's villain, about how he finds something to fear in those things we hold dear: our faithful companions become ravenous hellhounds in Cujo; our pretty little girls become telekinetic she-devils in Carrie or walking flamethrowers in Firestarter; a car literally becomes a deathtrap in Christine and Maximum Overdrive. Pennywise is simply another example of a villain incredible in the hands of a master.

The A to Z Blog Challenge starts up again tomorrow with letter H. We'll be talking about something truly terrifying: the House from the Amityville Horror.

Celebration of Wickedness Day 7: GODZILLA #atozchallenge

What do you get when you cross a slumbering dinosaur with exorbitant amounts of atomic radiation? You get to go shopping for a new city, buddy, 'cause you just unleashed a 400-foot-tall, fire-breathing can of Whoop-Ass! That's right, peeps, Godzilla, King of Monsters is coming to town in today's post.

Godzilla is the pre-eminent giant movie monster, stomping through model cities and kicking over toy tanks in 28 movies. He's fought every military on the planet, some of them off-planet, has battled countless behemoths around the globe—including King Kong (Godzilla won that shit, by the way)—and even tussled with a mechanical version of himself. Four times. He's been hero and villain, defender of earth and unstoppable aggressor. And if you thought I was going to be talking about that imposter piece of garbage movie with Matthew Broderick, you are poorly mistaken. In fact, if that's what you're looking for, you should click away. Now. That movie was an insult.

See, I'm a Godzilla fan. Like a die-hard fan. I have two items on my bucket list related to Godzilla—to see all the movies and to watch at least one of them in Japan. I was Godzilla for Halloween one year (seriously). I have a Godzilla Christmas tree ornament—it roars and his bumps light up. I almost cam—well, let's just say I was VERY excited when I heard Legendary was doing a remake.

And why do I love the Big Green Monster so much? I respect what he is. A force of nature, like a volcano or a hurricane. But the thing is, we made him. I mean we. Godzilla first roared on the world stage a mere 9 years after the end of World War II, a product of two items: the idea that when the Japanese attacked the US at Pearl Harbor, they "awoke a sleeping giant"; and how we actually ended the war, with the atomic attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. What you end up with is a giant monster with the destructive power of an atomic bomb.

Some of the edge has been taken off Godzilla over the last 58 years but, as a writer, I've always been intrigued by the living metaphor that he is. Godzilla represents both the danger of nuclear weapons AND the greater threat of such power in the hands of human beings. In the original movie, which was heavily edited in the United States, the aftermath of Godzilla's first attack on Tokyo looks like the smoldering ruins of Hiroshima and Nagasaki: people are bandaged and burned, the city is leveled, radiation sickness abounds. The Japanese appear shell-shocked in trying to comprehend and contain anything with such awesome force. More than that, over the years Godzilla has been used as both pawn and weapon, in the preservation and the dominance of our world. Just as our nations use nuclear weapons. Pretty deep for a monster that has had his own breakfast cereal and two, count 'em, two Saturday morning cartoons, huh?

Why do I consider Godzilla one of the greatest villains? Because in spite of the depth of the point he has to prove, Godzilla is fun. He is a character—I've seen him laugh in the face of fighter jets and their puny missiles, give us footwork like Muhammad Ali, and bat boulders around with his tail like Babe Ruth. He's a protective father. And he is absolutely unwilling to lose. And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.

Tomorrow is a free day for the A to Z Blog Challenge—no posts on Sundays. But, there is no rest for the wicked. Pennywise, the clown from Stephen King's It will be stopping by.

Catch ya later!

Celebration of Wickedness Day 6: FREDDY KRUEGER #atozchallenge

Welcome back friends and foes for another dose of villainy goodness.

Remember this?

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you

Three, four, Better shut the door

Five, six, Grab your crucifix

Seven, eight, Try to stay up late

Nine, ten, Never sleep again"

That's right, today's veritable villain is the raggedy striped sweater-wearing, charred Fedora-owning, crispy critter himself, Freddy Krueger.

And after all this time, even the creepy song by the jump roping girls still gets me.

The first time I saw A Nightmare on Elm Street I actually only saw the end. I walked in and turned on HBO and watched Johnny Depp, wearing those big ass headphones, get sucked into his bed and then splattered all over the ceiling. I couldn't stop watching: I was literally too frightened to walk away. I had my kids watch it recently and they were fine until that part. Then they slept in the same bed with the lights on for a week.

I've said it before, I'm no fan of horror movies. At all. Especially the slasher flicks. They didn't make sense to me—seriously, when was I ever going to be in the situations these dumb-ass, horny ass, jack ass teenagers found themselves in? I thought about adding Jason Vorhees and Michael Myers to my villainy line up—they're notable villains in their own right—but I couldn't identify with them. I figured I could always outrun Mike: he didn't run for shit, was always strolling after his victims. And he never killed the black dude. And with Jason, well, you have to be pretty dern stoopit to keep going back to the SAME DAMN CAMP WHERE 48,763 PEOPLE DIED BY THE SAME GUY. "Hey, John, remember Camp Crystal Lake where all those kids were murdered? Spring break, dude. It's on!" "Great idea, Bill! Let's bring Becky and Claudia too!" Yeah, I just couldn't get with that.

But with Freddy, what was I going to do? I was going to fall asleep eventually and then what? That's what bugged me about Freddy: you really couldn't escape. He could touch anyone. Anyone of us. Me. What bothered me about this guy as a kid, as an adult, is that there really isn't any way to avoid him: you can choose to not go to the beach or answer that SOS call or expose yourself to gamma rays or whatever, but you have to sleep. You HAVE to. It's a biological imperative. I have to give Wes Craven credit: he crafted the ultimate Boogeyman. I mean seriously, there was nothing about this dude that was positive: Freddy Krueger was a child molester during his living years and a nightmare after he was killed. When the kids on Elm Street needed their parents to make the monsters go away, they made him stronger. Made him more powerful. Made him immortal.

Freddy Krueger makes the cut as one of the greatest villains for three reasons: he's universal, he's creative, and he has a fantastic sense of humor. We all can identify with the horror that is Freddy Krueger—he literally is a living nightmare. We all have to sleep so he is universally frightening. But Freddy is like the Michelangelo of death, making each victim's demise into art. He knows what each kid is scared of and he exploits it. My personal favorite is from A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master where Freddy asks this girl if she wants to suck face and then proceeds to pull all the life out of her until she's flat and wrinkly. In real life, she dies from an asthma attack. Check it out below:

Which brings me to my third point: Freddy is freaking hilarious. He absolutely loves the torment he's inflicting and revels in it. There are no heroes that can measure up to Freddy Krueger, not in his movies, but it doesn't matter: you can't look away. Freddy's everywhere, in each one of us, in some form or another, hiding in the darkest of our fears, laughing in the midst of our nightmares and that, boys and girls, is why he is one of the greatest villains ever.

I am sooooo excited about tomorrow's post: stomping all over this blog, Oh No, It's GODZILLA!

Celebration of Wickedness Day 5: VENOM #atozchallenge

So for the fifth (FIF) day of the Celebration of Wickedness, I present to you for your crooked examination, the greatest Spiderman villain ever: VENOM! (also known as Eddie Brock—that's E for Eddie for you A to Z Challengers).

If you saw Spiderman 3, then you wasted your money. And your time. And you don't know Venom—he didn't even have a name in the movie. And while Sony laughs as it carts its $890M take to the bank for what I consider a piece of crap movie, we're going to look at the original Venom, the one from the comic.

Venom is two separate characters brought together through their mutual hatred of Peter Parker, better known as Spiderman or the Kid in the Red and Blue Pajamas. One of those characters is a journalist named Eddie Brock who thought he was unmasking a serial killer/domestic terrorist called the Sin-Eater. When Brock went to claim his Pulitzer, he discovered he was dead-ass wrong and Spidey unmasked the real killer in front of the whole world. Eddie's face was cracked and on the floor. The other half of the Venom persona is a symbiote—a parasitic entity that Spiderman picked up on another world during the Secret Wars. The symbiote was able to give Spidey a brand new suit, let him get rid of the web shooters and mimic his clothes and powers. The bad part is, being a parasite, it tried to kill Spiderman and, once he rejected it, it went off to lick its wounds.

Until it found Eddie Brock. Human being who hates Spiderman + symbiote who hates Spiderman AND mimics his powers AND knows who he is = VENOM.

(As I am writing this, I realize my nerd quotient is on HIGH! I better watch an episode of Mad Men so I can get some cool points back.)

I've been a fan of my Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman since I saw him jump on the Electric Company and point to a schwa. And when I heard "Is he strong? Listen bud/He's got radioactive blood/Can he swing from a thread/Take a look overhead" I was hooked. Why? Because he's a true hero. This is an ordinary kid, a lil nerdy—well, a lot nerdy—who got bit by a radioactive spider and suddenly had powers. I've watched as he's grown over time, watched him make mistakes, get his ass kicked, build a family he cares about, love a girl, lose her and win her back. He's an average guy made heroic because of the whole responsibility thing. This is not a "watch the villain kill the hero 'cause he annoys me" post: Spidey's my guy.

But Venom, man, Venom is freaking FANTASTIC! This villain completely takes apart the hero. He doesn't set off Spiderman's spider-sense so he gets entirely too close. He knows who Peter Parker is so he terrorizes Mary Jane and shows up in Aunt May's kitchen. He's stronger than Spiderman (because he works out Clubber Lang-style). And he wholeheartedly enjoys breaking Peter down.

We've all heard, "Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." Everyone thinks it's from the Godfather; it's actually from the Art of War by Sun Tzu. This is what Venom does, literally: he systematically breaks Spiderman down, repeatedly, by staying underneath his radar, just around the corner, just within reach, keeping him off kilter. All the things that made Spiderman a superhero, Venom took from him. Made them irrelevant.

And he made Peter Parker a better hero in the process.

Oh, he kicked Spidey's ass. No doubt about it. But, at the end, Spiderman was wiser, more resilient, and had a much better idea what was truly important. That's the thing about an excellent villain. For all their dastardly deeds, for all the pain they inflict, all the grief they cause, the power of a great villain is forging a formidable foe. A worthy opponent.

And that's my word! And my letter E. Tomorrow is Day 6, Letter F and that means the master of the nightmare, Freddy Kreuger! HAHAHAHA!!

Celebration of Wickedness Day 4: DRACULA #atozchallenge

Today I have the auspicious honor of hanging out with Noah Murphy today. I have mad respect for Noah and even wrote a post about his steadfastness in being true to himself and his writing. For me, this is a big deal!

The latest Celebration of Wickedness post is all about Dracula and it is AWESOME! I'm tooting my own horn, you might want to cover your ears.

Check it out here. And many, many thanks to Noah for giving me a spot on his blog.

Catch ya later! Tomorrow is all about the best Spiderman villain ever – VENOM!

You can find Noah at his blog (K23detectives.com) or on Twitter (@K23Detectives)