Way-Out Wednesday: All Killer, No Glitter!

Welcome to Way-Out Wednesday!




Because we're way nerdy up in this piece, I'm all for promoting reading when I can. A good murder mystery or crime novel (aka: "bad girls", "dope fiends", "jailbait" and other such delinquents of the 1950's) is always good. But really, vampires, werewolves and zombies make not only the best horror movies, but are classic good reads. Best of all, the cover art is phenomenal! "Phenomenal" as in: really, spectacularly cheesy in the best and most gloriously campy way. So I thought I'd get a little "Reading Is Fundamental" on your asses and show off a good read. Perhaps delve you into the swingin' world of 1960's vampires, when vampires were real and bad ass, before they cashed in on the scene and became vegans made out of glitter:




Hmm. It would seem Vlad waxed his chest for this special occasion. Apparently he wants to show you his West Side Vampires Represent neck tattoo. While I fully endorse the use of matching blue velvet cape sets, I'm a little confused. Where's the terror? Where's the blood and guts? Where's the sacrificial virgins?! And why is Kenny Rogers there in the background so angry?! Damn you, John Burke! Damn you straight to hell. Or to Forks, Washington.


Vintage 1967 Hammer Horror Paperback available on Etsy from seller Sophie Hardy's Vintage.

Back to the Grind!

I'm baaa-ack! Back from vacay, I am. (And talking like Yoda, apparently.) Sorry to cut and run- I had good intentions to write a "goodbye" post, but then I was all "meh", and you know what they say: "the road to hell is paved with good intentions" (or whatever), so there ya have it. (Apparently my over usage of quotation marks is back with great vengeance.) I'll be back posting our regular themes and random whatnot tomorrow. (Lucky you. *groan*)

Where did I go and what did I do on vacation? Well I can tell you what I didn't do, as chronicled by the following fanTAStic beach photos from 1951 (ish)...


I didn't...



...Wear a crazy hat...



...Or crazy-ass sunglasses (though why the hell didn't I?!)



I didn't...



...Get jiggy on the beach and break out into random dancing, singing songs about staying up past 10 and waxing my new surfboard, while a band full of crazy cats with names like "Scooter" and "the Geech" joins me on the beach... (Nor did I drop it like it's hot, for those of you who were wondering)...


I didn't...



...Hang out with any guys who wear sandals, under penalty of castration-by-spork (although donning the entire Brooks Brothers winter line on the beach is perfectly acceptable)...



I didn't...



...Wear a fur coat with a swimsuit on the beach, because that's just crazy. Everyone knows a mink stole is apropos. DUH.


And I didn't...



...Wear Hammer Pants....At least, not until cocktail hour.