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Facebook Apocalypse 2015

September 16th, 2015 · 16 Comments

If any of you fine folks follow the Kindertrauma fan page on Facebook or have friended my Unkle Lancifer profile, you may have noticed that they both recently up and disappeared. What happened was, Facebook had an issue with Unkle Lancifer not being my “real” name and as the Kindertrauma page was set up by that account, it was assassinated too. Both, by the way, were created before such a rule existed. If you rely on Facebook to alert you to new Kindertrauma posts, I’m sorry, that won’t be happening anymore. So far, from what I can see our readership has not taken a major dive since this occurred and it’s pretty obvious Facebook was only showing the updates to a fraction of our followers anyway in some lame attempt to get us to pay for them to “boost” their visibility. Frankly, on more than a few occasions, I wondered if posting flyers on telephone poles would be more effective.

I have tried everything to fix the situation and it’s basically like having brunch with the monolith from 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY. I’ve sent them I.D., as requested, and explained that “Unkle Lancifer” is a nick name/alias/pen name all to no avail. All I have received in return are automated emails designed to look like they are from a human when clearly they are not (and I’m the phony?) They refuse to even acknowledge my grievance until I present them with ID that says “Unkle Lancifer” and of course, nothing like that exists. Their only excuse for that random Draconian practice is, “We take your online security seriously’’ which is funny coming from the people who badger me for days about items that I happened to glance at on Ebay or Amazon earlier in the week. Robot-cookie-dudes, I looked up that DEATH SPA DVD merely to see if it existed, not because I wanted it (well, maybe I do want it but that’s not the point- nor is it FB’s business).

This steamroller of a policy has already gotten Facebook on many a drag queen’s shit list and it’s not hard to see why (more HERE). There are a myriad of reasons why a person may want to use a name other than the one they were born with and many of them far outweigh, in legitimacy, whatever this spurious policy is allegedly trying to accomplish.

My incentive, I admit, was not fueled by a necessity, as I just wanted to present a horror host type persona a’la DR. SHOCK or ELVIRA. There was absolutely nothing conniving or deceitful about that action so it’s weird that Facebook provides more wiggle room for hate groups than it does a nostalgic movie site designed to provide entertainment (for free I might add). Even if Facebook does come to provide an actual solution (rather than an empty apology) to the drag community, there’s no way to be certain that it will revive my Facebook account (which is ironic considering I’ve often been mistaken for “Richie” JANE MARCH’s male persona in COLOR OF NIGHT (1994). Ooops…spoiler alert).

Furthermore, I don’t know how many hoops I even want to jump through for this Facebook thing. In a rare instance of my taste not coinciding with that of the average shut-in, I’ve never been much of a fan. Some think of it as a necessary evil but I’ve come to call it by its real name “The Ego Pit of Flaming Insecurities.” On the plus side, it does showcase some of the most adorable animals in the world but on the minus side, nothing has been responsible for lessening my view of humanity more. I mean it’s basically VIDEODROME. Right? How is it not exactly, precisely and literally (give it a rest, word police) VIDEODROME?

Maybe that’s a little harsh. I know some people who get a lot of positive use from it. It’s just never been a comfortable fit for me. I guess I’ve always had some weird instinctive aversion to hive chatter and anything that operates like a mind control parasite invasion from outer space.

I don’t know. Does Kindertrauma even need Facebook? We existed before without it and I feel like those were the salad days. I know theoretically you are supposed to desire the largest following possible but I’m more than fine with the clubhouse vibe going on here. The few times a post of ours has been picked up by a larger horror site on Facebook and I have gotten to see the types of comments a more popular joint attracts all I can think is, “Thank God I don’t have to digest that type of nonsense regularly.”

Anyway, I’m leaving it up to you readers. If you enjoy the convenience of being alerted to our updates via Facebook, I’ll just open a new account under my “real” name and we can have it there for that purpose alone. Sure, it’ll sting to start over at zero friends but I can’t pretend I’ve never experienced that wonderful sensation before. Let me know. I can go either way. I quit smoking 7 months ago (!) after 25 plus years and if I can quit that, I can drop Facebook quicker than a Christmas tree in January.

Plus the idea of never having to rate the worth of our output again by how many folks deign to “like” it in the Thunderdome kind of thrills me. Not that discovering that Facebook had left my cake out in the rain didn’t hurt, it did. We lost a ton. There was a lot of original content (that I’m praying we backed up) and all of the great comments we got from our readers over the years are now gone (Not to play favorites, but I took a screenshot of Nancy Allen’s comment, so that’s safe).

What kills me the most though is that in the early days we posted so many pictures of the stray kittens we adopted (as duplicitous fiends do) and although we’re sure to have saved them elsewhere, I’ll miss having them in the timeline order they occurred. I even went through all the five stages of grief: DENIAL (it’s a mistake); ANGER (cue MADELINE KAHN flaming head CLUE (1985) gif!); BARGAINING (You can throw out the account that I use to connect with my family if I can have KT’s back!); DEPRESSION (I own every album by THE CURE and I’m not afraid to use them); and finally ACCEPTANCE (We’ll live and hey, don’t they let you post pictures on Twitter these days?).

I’ll keep you guys posted and in the meantime here is our TWITTER that you can follow for updates. I realize that’s probably just another head sprouting from the same dragon but at least when it breathes fire on you, it does it in 140 puffs or less and doesn’t try to charge you for the privilege.

Most importantly we’re HERE, as in here at Kindertrauma.com. This is our home and these are our pink walls and around these parts my name is Unkle Lancifer and my husband goes by Aunt John. If that’s a problem you know where the door is (it’s that pointy “back” button at the top left corner). Everybody else; “nuestra casa es su casa.” If you want to talk scary movies or creepy stuff on TV or anything that freaked you out as a kid and made you the horror fan you are today– we’ve got you covered. I guarantee you’ll see stuff here you won’t see anywhere else. We’ll keep coming back as long as you guys keep coming back and maybe, probably, even longer. Honestly I’ve always pegged Facebook being to blogs as the freeway was to the Bates Motel, so don’t be surprised if this place only gets more interesting.

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Tags: #kindertweet · @auntie_john · @Unkle_Lancifer · If Loving Nancy Allen is Wrong... I Don't Want to Be Right! · The Teaches of Peaches

Traumafession:: Unk on Count Iblis & War of the Gods

August 24th, 2014 · 5 Comments

I’ve probably mentioned before that I enjoy movies and shows that take place in a snowy setting. I’m only half kidding when I say that I believe they allow my eyeballs to air condition the inside of my head. Recently (while waiting for that slow poke CURTAINS DVD to arrive!) I decided that I’d get a quick snow fix by taking in the BATTLESTER GALACTICA (original series) episode “The Gun on Ice Planet Zero” because the only thing better than an ice planet is an ice planet with a robot dog running around on it. I know it’s really just a chimp in a costume but that hardly makes it any less adorable, unless of course, you think about how it was probably no fun for the chimp, who I hope was at least handsomely paid with bananas. Anyway, while watching this snowy episode I began to remember that there was another GALACTICA episode that kinda freaked me out as a kid and so I skipped ahead and watched that episode right afterward. It’s called “War of the Gods” and like “Ice Planet,” it’s a hearty two-parter, though alas it’s sadly snow free and low on chimps.

In this episode a bunch of pilots go missing so our intrepid heroes Starbuck, Apollo and Sheba investigate a planet that looks like California filmed in infrared. There they discover a massive crashed ship and an imposing fellow named Count Iblis who speaks in a grandiose manner and has a shifty glint in his eye. They take him back to the Galactica and that’s where he really starts acting smarmy, telling everybody what they want to hear, making huge promises to all who will listen and even putting the moves on Sheba who is easily half his age.

Perhaps due to having recently experienced an epic holocaust that nearly wiped out the entire human race that was caused by one duplicitous dude’s flimflam, Apollo’s not exactly itching to buy the space equivalent of swampland in Florida. He goes back to the planet they found Iblis on to investigate the wreckage further and is followed by Starbuck and Sheba and a pissed off-Iblis. What Apollo finds in the ship’s mangled debris is never shown but it’s obviously damning evidence against smooth taking Iblis who is particularly loath to have Sheba learn his true colors.

As Apollo begins to out Iblis with other names that he is known to go by, including “Prince of Darkness,” Iblis decides maybe he’ll just kill Sheba to shut him up and curse Apollo’s conscience forever. As he shoots some kind of magic death ray out of his hand towards Sheba, Apollo being Apollo jumps in front of it to save her and is killed himself (What!?!). Seeing his buddy dead throws Starbuck into a heart-wrenching rage that still makes me verklempt and he begins wildly blasting at Iblis and the gunfire reveals Iblis’ real face and it’s a pig face. Yep, a demonic pig face. The effect hasn’t held up very well but neither have I, so I guess we’re even.

Back as a kid in the seventies, I had much to worry about. Would I get that Lego set I wanted for Christmas? (Nope). Would I be good at sports? (Nope). Would I excel at school? (Nope). Was my awkwardness a phase that I’d grow out of? (Nope). Would I become possessed by the Devil? (Still pending). It sounds pretty dumb now but back then Satan was ubiquitous and inescapable and looking back it didn’t help matters that those I looked up to and believed in made it pretty clear he was a valid concern. I remembered feeling somewhat betrayed, BATTLESTAR GALACTICA was where I went to get away from such worries. Satanic phantoms were for horror movies and Sunday school; what were they doing here on my favorite show?

Kid-me needn’t to have gotten so wigged out though, as this episode really knows how to clean up a mess; by the time the end credits rolled I was able to jump into bed with no worries. Starbuck and Sheba put Apollo’s dead (Still, what!?!) body in a shuttle and began their sad journey back to Galactica and on the way there, they encounter what looks like a giant sparkling chandelier that welcomes them aboard and bleaches all their clothes a pristine white. The place is crawling with calmingly mellow angel/aliens who are super wise and considerate and very open about not being big fans of Iblis.

They show Starbuck and Sheba Apollo’s dead body and Sheba starts to loose it because she figured what transpired had to be a nightmare. The kindly angel people tell her that she’s the one who was meant to be pushing up daisies on account of her being bamboozled and ask her if she would trade her life for his (Oh no, now I’m getting all verklempt again). Sheba and Starbuck are both like, “Hells yea! We’d switch places with Apollo in a heartbeat because he’s so awesome and we love him.” And so the angels bring Apollo back to life and they don’t even make the other two drop dead as payment because it’s like WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY and they just wanted to test them to see if they were assholes or not. So everything works out great, the aliens erase the entire incident from everybody’s head so that nobody has to deal with the ramifications and then to be extra friendly, they shove the coordinates of Earth in their noggins instead. So basically, bite it, Count Iblis.

Look at me trying to sound flip when in actuality I was riveted the entire time and sincerely moved. The tale of good vs. evil, of the temptation to sell out what you value for shortcuts and empty promises and learning that only through selflessness can you regain all that you’ve lost must be as old as the hills but maybe there’s a reason for that. People can say whatever they want about this show, that it’s corny or too kid friendly or too reliant on special effects and is overall simplistic when compared to the more complex re-imaging but simply seeing the expression of awe and gratitude on Sheba’s face when Apollo is resurrected is enough for me.

We sometimes (i.e., always and especially lately) live in a terrible, frightening world. There are plenty of secret pig faces (e.g., politicians, religious leaders) selling pie in the sky dreams if only you hand over your humanity. But as any chandelier worth its crystal can tell you, it’s really our bonds with each other that matter. So again I must say bite it, Count Iblis, you wretched pig face. But I should add that actual pigs are nice and by many accounts as smart as dogs. I’m going vegan or at least I’m not buying a bacon bowl anytime soon.

Note: There’s another trauma lurking inside this trauma, a memory of an even younger me having to go a couple doors down to a strange family’s house to memorize Bible verse and being paid in useless colored ribbons for my efforts. The head of the household was a motorcycle enthusiast (and a cop?) and a poster hung on the wall of their garage depicting a guy on a cycle saying something like, “So what if I’m a male chauvinist pig?” and yes, you guessed it, he had a pig’s face. It was a very disturbing image and frankly these people’s entire house smelt funny and why am I not surprised my parents were fine with leaving me in the care of total (and strange smelling) strangers as long as it meant my being out of their way for a while? I swear anybody who survived being a kid in the seventies deserves a reward and not a useless colored ribbon either. Maybe a Lego set.

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Tags: @Unkle_Lancifer · The Seventies mushed my head · Traumafessions

Kinder-Tweet:: Tentacles

November 12th, 2010 · 5 Comments

Do you have a twitter account? Do you have a Netflix streaming account? Well, then do I have something for you if you don’t happen to have something better to do. On Tuesday, November 16th at exactly 10pm Eastern time (7 Pacific) we ask that you start watching TENTACLES on Netflix! Hopefully a bunch of us horror fans will be watching it at the exact same time and we can tweet our thoughts live! I’m telling you this could be fun. All ya gotta do is send your tweetings with the hashtag #kindertweet and we’ll all be in the same spot at the same time!

If you don’t want to do it that’s alright (sob), me and Aunt John will just sadly tweet back and forth to each other. I’ll be O.K. I suppose as long as I get to hear the incredible TENTACLES soundtrack. C’mon, 1977’s TENTACLES stars big names like HENRY FONDA, JOHN HUSTON and most importantly SHELLY WINTERS. Plus, don’t forget you will also meet an octopus!

So remember TUESDAY at TEN (EST), TENTACLES on Netflix streaming & send post your tweets with #kindertweet! It’s the most fun you’ll ever have being scared (by an octopus.)

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Tags: #kindertweet · @auntie_john · @Unkle_Lancifer · Tuesdays with Unk & Aunt