Back to another grab bag of not just candy but just a conglomeration of colorful costumed carnage …
The undead, here and there and everywhere, go by many heavy metal song titles and their one band especially, with unending tours: Live After Death; A Live Dead One; Death Live; Live To Die; Death On The Road … But these roads eventually lead to Death Trip Wisconsin.
— Therein, we have in Uncategorized the need to have our mailboxes no longer maligned with election ads. Or absolutely full if you have a small P.O. Box. How much interest is all this postage and paper production accumulating? Less then you might think if the TOP/GOP owns huge printing plants. See tongue-in-cheek stats inside. —
That is getting a bit ahead of ourselves. To hit the real holiday spirit, as practiced these days, gotta go online and check out the vocal analysis of four songs done by The Charismatic Voice under the heading, The Creepier The Better. The first two are about the ultimate vampire boyfriend as sung theatrically by Type O Negative. They have won over my own personal fave and not of the grave Elizabeth Z — and her self-proclaimed spoiled by metal life, to the gothic romance genre.
This not unlike The Who back from that era, prior to the internet, as I am Preaching From My Chair. But not invoking this particular one, being sofa-size and set out on the curb as part of an autumn purge, without the perch of a ghoul on it to guard it, I’d need a truck to move it even with ebay. The lawns leading up to it and the downtown were curt with their lost leaves, (used for Pinterest?), in part because there were not forests, but just a few trees.
So we go paperless …
Thereby becoming the bridge, of the veil, that are other online ads, to drum up a visit to three of most haunted places in “America,” although they look like a big-time Euro cathedral and/or an old prison, and then a not quite as old classic car, so this all meets up with the Matrix.
And more …
Then there’s the pitch — to bring the setting back to local even if using an Old England band — on the marquee of a main drag business that boasts “Hocus Pocus don’t lose your focus.” But uhm … a couple of weeks prior to Halloween, that sign was retooled.
Then brought back again.
I have sang that old Focus song many times in karaoke. Especially since there is now, just in time for All Hallows, a movie by that same name hitting the theatres. The stars, some pretty big names, have had interesting things to say in interviews, about the mixture of comedy/drama and religious accuracy as it concerns real-life witches.
This at the Pantera-less and also Texas-less Cemetery Gates that are at the end of a New Richmond stub road. As signed on the main drag leading into thus, thereby the warning: “No turnaround.” Like hey, when you are planted in the ground, uhm, there definitely is no turning back and leaving, as you are entombed in a tombstoned area. Might as well just say Dead End.
Weeks beforehand, there was creepy music emenating from that area, between stones. Taking it to the max.
Like the weather …
On that first early October snowfall we had, early enough for Halloween and before, that disemboweled inches-from-the-sidewalk head was what’s left of a snowman. And 20 miles to the south, Dick’s Bar again dissects with what’s hanging on the ceiling and not just skulls … are they connected to the leg bone?
One of the earlier residential displays: When a pre-set light would go on at night, if someone walked (lurked?) past, what was shown below was a big ghost so white it did not need the light. But then again, a week before The Big Day it also was taken down.
Also in flux. A pickup truck had plenty of white sheets strung across its windshield, but then again, seven days beforehand they were removed. Methinks Gru and minions had something to do with this. And speaking of him, there is a prominent lawyer at The State’s Other End that bears a strong resemblance and is named Gru-ber (my hyphen).
Then this representation …
The Wild Badger has several bloody good signs, dressed up to look stained by such, even on both doorways and thus seen backwards — do do do do — if viewed from the interior.
Thus at a downtown Hudson haunt, this display on-boards is shaped like a totem pole, if I can use that term, of seven decorated plastic skulls on each side, up and down a pair of two-by-fours alongside the cash register.
There also is that area, where there formerly was a deejay booth, that’s now decked out for the holiday, in many forms of string and theory. Also, 20 miles to the north, is their old deejay booth illuminated in much, but lower scaled, the same way,
In what could only be considered humorous and not completely morbid at Halloween, a big, bad predator (wolf?) ate what they could but kept — only this — a bit of leg on the sidewalk. That leftover rabbit’s foot was certainly not lucky “thirteen” for the bunny.
I’ve seen a placard, outside the grocery store, that listed all the different stuff everyone needs to get shots for. (Including tainted rabbits?) I was stunned by the sheer number, many of them with long names that read like scientific names. Ending in, often, “coccal” and “gitis.” Among those more than 13 different viruses that are said to be a need for inoculation for all and can gettcha, even if not at Halloween, I swear my unlucky-in-always-having-illness-ways friend has inadvertently come across new ones.
But not sick for the party …
Thus just prior to the weekend, there was a thumping bass from, me think’s, a house party. That was at its origin, from the end of a dead end street, me also thinks, but come undone at bar time.
And behold, the many spider webs can turn into fish netting, a (home)coming for finned and thus after Halloween. The webs that would be spun across the area abound more and more, on doors and windows, but only in haunty designs, as cold weather may have killed all the real arachnids.
So along the lawn were those 13-or-so Big Ace bags (as you will see, software not hardware) of now-sidewalk leaves that were bought to form a reverse semi-circle, down the road from the aformentioned sofa, if you are tired of all the ghoulies and want to sit (it out).
Or ride …
There were all those scores of motorcycles circling around, hoping to make a score, in the rally of the day, heading south after a series of turns with more to come through what passes in Roberts as a frontage road, and then back north again to abide with your abode on actual highways.
This is not Happy Trails, but one along the way has an I-think-seven fluffy ghosts strung onto now bare branches in front of a porch just a stone’s throw away.