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Kindertrauma Funhouse

December 6th, 2019 by unkle lancifer · 11 Comments

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Traumafession:: Dustin in Minnesota on Southern Gothic Country Music

December 3rd, 2019 by unkle lancifer · 12 Comments

Hey there Trauma fans! I have a traumafession from my youth involving country music. I grew up in the ’70s and ’80s, and my dad played in numerous local bands, both rock and country music. Because of this, my parents had a massive collection of vinyl. Some of it freaked me out, particularly three songs that I guess you could classify as southern gothic.The first was The Legend of Wooley Swamp, performed by the Charlie Daniels band, in which some local white trash (as described in the song) beat a swamp-dwelling old miser to death to collect his fortune, only for him to have his post-mortem revenge as they drowned in quicksand while making their escape. (Interestingly enough, I pictured the swamp looking the one where The Legion of Doom lived inside their Darth Vader’s head-shaped spacecraft)

The second was Kenny Rogers‘s song “The Hoodooin’ of Miss Fannie DeBerry,” in which the narrator recalls a woman from his youth who would walk down a road barefoot speaking in tongues and come home crying late at night. It is revealed she had gained immortality through a deal with the Devil, and that she might use it against the listener.

The third freaked me out to a lesser degree – “Somebody’s Knockin'” by Terri Gibbs, in which a woman sings that the Devil has come to her door to seduce her. It wasn’t the lyrics that freaked grade-school me out so much as her haunting voice and the thought of the Devil on one’s doorstep.
While these songs freaked me out, I was fascinated by them nonetheless, as they were a musical bridge between religious tracts I would sometimes come across and the nightmare-inducing horror comics I would buy at the drugstore. And yes, these songs sometimes had the same effect if I listened to them shortly before bedtime, conjuring images of swamps, revenge, voodoo, and the Prince of Darkness in my ten-year-old mind.

Dustin in Minnesota

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Kindertrauma Funhouse

November 29th, 2019 by unkle lancifer · 6 Comments

There are 10 differences between the image above (A) and the image below (B). Can you find them all?

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Name That Trauma:: Xminus on an Avalanche and a Talking Rock

November 27th, 2019 by unkle lancifer · 1 Comment

I need your help as winter approaches. I have a movie stuck in my head and I can not find the name of it. All I have to go on is it was on TV, not sure when or what channel, and it might be a made for tv movie, I am not sure. All I can remember is that there was an avalanche, and someone is dying , and up to their neck in snow and they start hallucinating and talking to a rock of all things. I remember the guy naming the rock rocky and the rock had a mouth that said I have always been here and always will be. Then the mouth on the rock vanishes and the guy gets a little frantic and the screen fades to black shortly after. I need to know I was not just making this up, and any help will be appreciated.

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In Memoriam:: Michael J. Pollard 5/30/39 – 11/20/19

November 23rd, 2019 by unkle lancifer · 10 Comments

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Kindertrauma Funhouse

November 22nd, 2019 by unkle lancifer · 15 Comments

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Witchcraft (1964)

November 20th, 2019 by unkle lancifer · No Comments

I always have time for a movie concerning witches and if it’s casting its spell in gorgeous black and white that’s even better in my book. Directed by Don Sharp (who helmed the equally atmospheric KISS OF THE VAMPIRE a year earlier), WITCHCRAFT is a surprisingly dark and moody tale with a superbly gloomy ending. I’m a little shocked that it has evaded me for so many years because it seems like it should be mentioned alongside some of my favorite titles like BURN, WITCH, BURN (1962), HORROR HOTEL (1960) and THE WOMAN WHO CAME BACK (1945). Truth is, I found it streaming free on TubiTV and liked it so much that I went online to buy a copy only to recognize it as something I already owned and hadn’t viewed yet (it’s in one of those “Midnight Movie” double feature sets from MGM with DEVIL’S OF DARKNESS (1965)). I know that’s not a very interesting story but I want to publically yell at myself for purchasing movies and not watching them. Plus, I’d like to alert the world that my brain has seen better days.

WITCHCRAFT opens with gravestones being crushed by a bulldozer. Because this film takes place decades before POLTERGEIST (1982), it’s not yet public knowledge that putting a land development on top of a graveyard is a rotten idea. The legendary Lon Chaney, Jr. as Morgan Whitlock is seeing red about the desecration (as well he should) because the very same family disturbing the graves (the Laniers) buried his relative Vanessa Whitlock (Diane Clare) alive under (accurate) accusations of witchcraft there. It’s sort of a Hatfields vs. McCoys situation except one family are greedy jerks who steal land and the other family are cool witches who can make you think you’re driving your car on Main Street when you’re really driving off of a cliff. Making things even stickier is the canoodling of two young lovers (David Weston as Todd Lanier and Diane Clare as Amy Whitlock) from each clan who hope to bypass all this ancient history and start anew. Peace and tranquility are hardly in the cards though because Vanessa Whitlock has risen from the grave and she looks fierce, awesomely creepy and totally pissed.

This toasty flick is tailor-made for watching from under a blanket with a reliable cat at your side. There’s a big old dark house full of menacing shadows and dizzying wallpaper, foggy walks to a torch-lit crypt, a bed-ridden old lady cackling out warnings, and a funeral for nearly every character who doesn’t abide. Plus, you get chanting Satanic cults, voodoo dolls and the kind of lovable score that doesn’t mind beating revelations into your head with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Some of it may be a bit tame and hokey by today’s standards (at one point we’re meant to be alarmed by a toad) but underneath its reserved veneer, it couldn’t be more dark and pessimistic (one character, who seems primed for redemption actually ends up with a wicked demise). The resurrected witch Vanessa Whitlock is pretty charming and alarming to behold and in a world starved for female ghoul representation, I think she deserves much more notoriety. Like all great monsters, she’s as sympathetic as she is frightening and I’m a little sad she didn’t leave a deep enough impression to warrant a sequel. #justiceforvanessawhitlock

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Traumafession:: bdwilcox on Flash Gordon

November 19th, 2019 by unkle lancifer · 6 Comments

It’s been decades since I first saw Flash Gordon in the movie theater as a kid and to this day I am loathe to reach my arm into someplace I haven’t thoroughly inspected.  I still go through this circus every day when I need to check my mailbox. Each time I reach my arm into that dark recess I thoroughly expect to feel a sting and pull my arm out dripping with green goo only to ask Timothy Dalton to run me through with a sword and spare me the madness.

But I think there is a bigger, more symbolic meaning here.  Remember as a kid when the mail was the coolest thing ever? I would race to the mailbox to get my catalogs from Sears, Toys R Us, Service Merchandise, Cabelas, Gander Mountain, etc. and pour over them for hours looking at all the cool things they offered and I couldn’t afford.  One day I’ll be able to order whatever I want, I thought, and my wife will be one of those girls in the Cabelas catalogs who sits around in her flannel pajamas and sips hot tea with honey from a giant Cabelas mug in front of the fire.

But as life wore on and many of the delights from childhood faded and soured, mail became its antithesis.  Now instead of joy, it delivered a merciless sting: an endless parade of bills, collection agents, tax notices, registration and license renewals, and the ugly faces of pandering politicians at election time.  Timothy Dalton said: “Death is certain, but only after tortured madness. (“How long?”) Hours. days, depending on your strength.”  If that isn’t an allegory for how life wears us down, I don’t know what is.

P.S. Please feel free to use the attached picture I made of my actual mailbox (No Prince Barin’s were harmed in the making of this picture.)

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Name That Trauma:: B. on Creepy Alien Plants

November 18th, 2019 by unkle lancifer · 1 Comment

About 15 years ago there was a program on PBS I believe, maybe during their beg-a-thon, it seemed to be a documentary about a play(?) because there were clips of the thing and clips of people talking. Anyway, the particular scene in question was of a small child, a boy I believe, on an alien island possibly? Or planet? Not sure, but he awakens from his sleep to see some plants with pods on the top of them and they were sort of sway-dancing in a very creepy manner. There was a choir in the background (sound-wise) and then it jumped to a scene of the young boy frying eggs on a rock, throwing the fry pan to flip them in the air with the plants behind him. I haven’t been able to find anything about this (all the searches for alien plants come up with is Little Shop Of Horrors which is definitely not it), and there is no PBS schedule from this time on the net. It scared the bajeesus out of me when I was youngish and I’m dying to find at least something about this.

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Kindertrauma Funhouse

November 15th, 2019 by unkle lancifer · 10 Comments

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